The Original's feet touched the factory floor with the softness of falling snow, but the impact sent vibrations through the concrete that made every piece of machinery in the building ring like a bell.
The remaining vampires—two third generations and the handful of lesser bloodsuckers who'd survived the initial assault—immediately fell back, arranging themselves behind their master like a pack acknowledging their alpha.
The hierarchy was unmistakable. Even the third generations, creatures that could tear through steel and command absolute fear from human prey, looked diminished in the presence of something that had walked the earth since the first nights after the Break.
Agent Richardson, barely conscious and clutching a handheld scanner that had been beeping frantically since the explosion, looked down at his device with growing horror.
The readings were off the charts—power levels that shouldn't have been possible, energy signatures that made his equipment whine in protest.
