12 What could go wrong?

The following week was a blur.

I practiced etiquette, learned more of the vampire society's history, prepared for the (pretend) Blood Offering (after a few days, we began doing it with our clothes on), finished up with my own personal works.

Between those were physical training sessions in the mansion's private gym. I was informed that there would be several outdoors activities that familiars were supposed to participate. Besides, staying in shape would help when things went tits up and we needed to run.

On the last day before D-Day, the servants helped me pack my stuff everything in several suitcases.

During dinner, Stella approached me.

"Now I would need several strands of your hair," she said, holding out a tweezer and a tiny plastic vial.

"Uh, okay," I hesitated for a second then nodded. She plucked some of my hair out and put it inside the vial, "What do you need them for?"

"They're needed for my gift to work," she replied with a smile. Off my confused look, she added, "I'll inform you when the time comes."

Besides slower aging and generally higher strength, speed and constitution, each vampire might also develop one or more "gifts." The gifts vary greatly between each vampire, and are often a closely guarded secret. They would only unveil their gifts when the alternative is death, or when they were certain they could kill all witnesses.

I nodded. She looked at me and said.

"Thank you, Owen, for doing this. We really appreciate this."

"It's alright. I'll do my best. For Chloe."

My worry must have shown on my face, as she smiled and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry too much. It's just a family reunion. Old people talk, young people mess around. A few hot-headed ones might try to stir up trouble, so do your best to stay out of their way."

Yeah, it was just a family reunion. What could go wrong?

*******************

Five days later

…

It was midmight. We stood on a small hill overlooking Patriarch Petyr's massive mansion.

The huge complex was on fire. The flame was roaring…

Occasionally there were small explosions as whatever flammable material they were storing caught was ignited.

In the orange blaze, we saw dozens of black limos driving away from the mansion like rats swimming away from a ship.

Helicopters were hovering over the mansion, searchlights scanning the area.

"Well, that escalated quickly!" Commented Mr. Drake, who was casually brushing himself off. Despite having been burned, stabbed, shot at, chased through the forest, he still look a million bucks.

"I, for one, am relieved. At least the reunion was short this time. The old women's ramblings were driving me crazy," said Mrs. Drake as she plucked a dry leave out of Grace' hair.

In fact, Mrs. Drake, Chloe, her siblings Gracie and Abram all looked remarkably unblemished by the ordeal. I was the only one who was sweaty, disheveled and out of breath.

"A sentiment I wholeheartedly share, my love!" Mr. Drake chuckled.

Gracie and Abram yawned and scratched their bellies.

"Dad, are we going home now?" The girl asked.

"Yes, dear. Now let me find ourselves a ride and get out of here before the authority arrives."

The family began descending the hill. I looked back at the scene of destruction and marveled at how fast things could go downhill so fast.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let me go back four days earlier.

Innocuous as it was, trouble had already found us before we reached the gate of Patriarch Petyr's mansion…