Mike

 

The year was sixteen twenty-nine, and it was early autumn; September had nearly come to a close. The town in question was not large, nor was it small, being seven miles to the northwest of Southend-on-Sea and an entity in its own right. Within this town was a peculiarity not often found these days, which was that nearly all of its inhabitants were kin—that is, hunterkin. The term is not now widely used, but you may guess correctly that it was our way then of referring to cousins. In those days our greatest congregations of kin remained close to ports and the major cities of trade, for there was no method of communication at distance, save for post delivered by carriage or on horseback. We found it far more convenient to settle in such places as would be frequented by all types, and therefore facilitate the recognition of new kin so that they could be given lodging and employment as promptly as possible following their arrival in a new land.

You see, in those days we had not yet established ourselves as deeply as we have in this century, and we more closely resembled a loose network of fond family than anything that could ever be given the name Council. It simply was not as necessary as it is now to have so many friends in the various businesses and bureaucracies, in order to create and distribute papers and identification. In those days, the hiring of a common counterfeiter was more than sufficient, and official tracking of independent citizens was spotty at best. Since then, of course, improvements have been made on both sides.

It was on one particular day in early autumn—the twenty-ninth of September, to be exact—that I came into this world. I am told that it was an easy birth, as all hunter births are, and that it lasted no more than three hours. My mother, Adelaide, was up on her feet again almost immediately following a hearty meal and plenty of water. I was the second son, after my brother Quentin, and the fourth child. My sisters, Beatrice and Elfrieda, were old enough to lend our mother aid in my rearing.

We were all but secluded from the outside world, interacting with outsiders only to trade goods and news. The controversies of King Charles barely touched us, for more reasons than one, and even the humans among our population never sought to break our isolation.

In time I grew to be a man. Not being in any haste to marry, I instead took a position with the Dutch East India Company as a sailor on the VOC Amsterdam… which promptly sunk a year later. Survival in the face of dire situations is, happily, a common trait among us and I once again found myself upon a new ship. The providence of this arrangement was soon apparent, for, as ships had a tendency to sink and I had a tendency to survive (being not troubled by sharks nor dehydration), I never once had to find explanation for my lack of aging. During those times that my ship rested in port, I explored the land and made the acquaintance of many of my kin along the way.

It soon became apparent to me that the world was changing. Entities such as my own dear Dutch East India Company were bringing the world together in a way that had never previously been dreamed, and it behoved us to change our ways along with it. I began collecting names and family histories from all I encountered, to be added to a central database, rather than the myriad of volumes possessed by the many but small long-time settlements of our kin. Within forty or fifty years, with great thanks to my distant travels, I had succeeded in collecting and organising the histories of our family from England to Peking. While my efforts were often confined to the coastal cities, word spread and I would often come into port to be greeted by members of my family bringing with them the collected histories of an entire region. Everyone, it seemed, wished to be marked and remembered, especially to close relatives who had left home in circumstances similar to my own and had not yet sent word.

By the turn of the nineteenth century, my efforts had yielded a library full of such volumes. Any of my kin could visit this library and trace back his lineage as far back as the civilisations of ancient Mesopotamia, if his particular family had chosen to keep such thorough records, for that is when the concept of tracking one’s family history came into existence. In those days this library was kept in a large estate in southern Italy, which had long been in the possession of our family—although of course the title had passed hands quite often—for it was here that it would be most accessible to as many of our kin as possible, being as it was near the coast in the centre of a large network of both trade routes and sea lanes.

It has since been moved, of course, being far too vast now to house in the old estate and far too precious to maintain it in a place so vulnerable to war and strife. I am forever grateful to whoever it might be that first conceived of the Internet, for it has made my job and the job of my fellow organisers infinitely more efficient. The main library itself is now kept in a secure bunker buried somewhere beneath the tundra of the northern reaches of Russia, although there are of course electronic copies on numerous computers which are accessible at any time to any of our kin.

At the time, however, I had to content myself with the slow and laborious collection of the unwieldy and often delicate handwritten volumes. Eventually and, I suppose, inevitably, I grew weary of collecting all such histories myself, and risking their safety on the many ships I sailed, and instead began distributing the address of that Italian estate which I have mentioned previously. Rather than entrusting their precious histories with an itinerant sailor, my kin could simply send these volumes along with any cousin who happened to be travelling in the proper direction. For the most part, each family first placed their histories in the possession of their local organiser, if they had not done so already, who was then entrusted with the task of finding a cousin able to deliver them to Italy.

This development left me free to do as I liked, being no longer restricted by my self-appointed task, and I spent many years happily sailing about the entire world. I made the voyage to Dejima, in the eastern island chain of Japan, several times before Commodore Perry forced that country’s oceanic gates open to the world. Happily, I had already mastered the Dutch language as a matter of convenience due to my long tenure (of which my masters were unaware) with the Dutch East India Trading Company. It was not until the Commodore’s actions, of course, that I was able to safely set foot on the other islands, but I was drawn to the little artificial island nonetheless by the quite constant presence of many of my kin, who were all of them eager to maintain as much contact with our family in Japan as possible. The most convenient messengers, of course, were the prostitutes who were among the few Japanese allowed on the Dutch trade post, and the most often overlooked. Many of these were kin themselves, and I often “employed” one for days at a time, in order to hear the latest news of the country and our family. They, in turn, gladly conveyed messages back to the islands along with any items we wished to trade.

I did not stay long, however. As enticing as the exotic ports of the Orient may be, a part of me still yearned for the familiarity of my long-neglected home and family. In addition, I had a keen desire to return to Europe in order to learn what had become of my long efforts to unify our kin. You may imagine, then, that I was thoroughly pleased with the emerging system. Not only were messages and histories being passed from country to country with greater frequency, but people as well. Our settlements no longer had to wait for years on end in the hopes that an itinerant kinsman might pass through on his way elsewhere; hardly a month went by that one did not visit even the smallest of villages, especially—and this is the part in which I pride myself the most—due to the painstaking cataloguing and mapping of every last settlement.

By the time I returned to my home at Southend-on-Sea, there was all but nothing left for me to do. I stayed for a little while, spending time with those relatives who still remained in our town after so many years. My mother and father, being very fond of that part of the country, had remained even in their same house for all those decades, and I was elated to learn that I had gained three more brothers and a sister. Most of my siblings, of course, had moved away to other towns and cities, some of them even to different countries.

I was visiting my eldest brother, Quentin, in the city of London, in the summer of the year nineteen hundred and one. I had just been offered the position of organiser by the region of Essex after the previous organiser decided to lend his experience to our kin in the new country of America. It was a difficult decision for me, for while I greatly enjoy the challenges involved in such a venture, I was still uncertain that I would enjoy being so tied to one particular area. In order to get a feeling for the task, I was aiding the organiser of London.

In such a large city, with so many people all living in such close proximity, there are certain situations which often arise. The foremost, and the one requiring the most attention, was the possibility—no, the likelihood—that our activities and the activities of our adversaries might be noticed by the common people. It is perfectly simple to ensure anonymity when our hunting is conducted at night, in areas where all citizens are safely asleep at night. It is another matter entirely when half the population, it seems, is still conducting business at all hours. To top it all off, some fellow named Stoker had just written a novel that came uncomfortably close to revealing entirely too much to the public at large.

My role in this was to watch the streets. Not to search for nests or covens, you understand, but to watch for signs that somebody might have seen more than they should. The population has a tendency to panic when faced with incontrovertible evidence of those things of which our adversaries are capable, and we all wished to avoid such an occurrence. Additionally, there have long been tales of our beginnings, in the early days during which the existence of our kind was well-known among all people.

Despite everything, the tales say, the people began to mistrust our greater strength and longer lifetimes. They tell of incidents in which a kinsman was unable to heal an injured man quick enough to save his life, and resentment was bred. We made a decision, thousands of years ago, to conceal ourselves. We ourselves spread stories of our monstrosity, exaggerating endlessly until all the world came to think of our kin as giants and hideous devils. These tales served their purpose; who would ever think for a moment that we, looking as we do like any other person, could be anything but human? Eventually these lies faded into legend, and they forgot about us. Ever since, we have been meticulous about maintaining our secrecy.

My concerns, as I walked the streets of London, were not ill-founded.

Not long after I began my patrols, I happened across a pair of men, each of whom was in possession of weaponry that gave me no doubt as to their intention. Gullible fools who had no doubt read Stoker’s novel and given it far too much credence: this was my first thought. To their credit, they shone more brightly than any humans I had previously encountered, but they were by no means kin, and so I determined to watch them and see what they might do. If they had simply been duped into believing the stories, they would surely lose heart soon enough, having no means to locate true demons as we have. If they truly had encountered demons, and lived to hunt again, I needed to determine exactly what they knew and what their intentions might be.

I followed them home that night after their fruitless venture. Being so well-prepared, they would undoubtedly make another attempt, and I intended to be present when they did. After two more such nights they were able to locate their prey. A young woman had been accosted in a dark alleyway, and the two men heard her screams from several blocks away. By the grace of heaven they reached her before the demon could take her life (for I could not possibly have interfered at such a time, when I might have been observed) and one of the men was indeed able to dispatch the creature. The second man’s role quickly became obvious; I observed him from the roof, and watched as he administrated to the poor girl’s injuries with sure skill. A doctor, no doubt, although how he had become entangled in this current arrangement was beyond my imagination.

I left them after this incident with two conclusions: One, that they had beyond all doubt observed and, truly, become well acquainted with the practice of demon-hunting, and Two, that they were more than simply a pair of mortals that must be handled as discreetly as possible. Humans that could so easily dispatch a demon—more than one, surely, if their practiced actions were any indication—must be observed closely on the rare chance that they might be of use to us.

I followed the pair for a fortnight longer, reporting all of my observations to the city’s organiser and awaiting further instruction. My inclination was to approach the men with great caution and determine their trustworthiness; if they should prove constant, they could be installed in such official professions as would be beneficial in our never-ending pursuit of anonymity. As the centuries pass, and the governments of men become more efficient in their censuses of the population, it becomes more difficult to conceal our nature from prying eyes. A low-level government official, for example, could be used to obtain fresh identification for those who, due to their apparent age, could no longer use their previous papers or else be called a fraud.

To this end, however, I was overruled. The organiser—his name was Harold Parker—determined that the situation required his own personal observation and so accompanied me on my nightly pursuit of the two men for several days until he could see them hunt and kill a demon with his own eyes. Harold was thoroughly impressed by their fortitude and skill, and I suspect more than a little curious as to the motivation behind their apparent determination. As I had been the one to observe them for so long, Harold asked that I be the one to approach them, to learn their motivation and suggest a meeting with a small group of our kin.

I leapt from my observational post and blocked their way out of the dark alley immediately after they had dispatched that night’s prey. They were both startled, but kept their composure surprisingly well, considering that I am sure I made no noise up until the moment that I spoke.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I said, tipping my hat politely. It was best to put them at ease, considering the delicate nature of this meeting. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Michael Connor.”

The shorter fellow, an Irishman, glanced quickly at his companion, possibly in the hopes that he might have some idea as to my intentions… or possibly as a warning. It is terribly impossible to determine the thoughts of mortals. Finally he—the Irishman—broke the silence.

“I’m Gabe Kavanagh,” he said, “And this is Dr. Seth Carlisle. A good evening to you as well.” He attempted to walk past, but I restrained him with an outstretched hand.

“If you please, gentlemen,” I insisted.

The doctor, Carlisle, frowned and spoke. “Excuse me, Mr. Connor, but do you have business with us?”

“In fact I do. You two gentlemen have been very busy, it would seem. Your pursuits have not gone unnoticed.” I raised a hand to stave off the retort that seemed to be forming on Kavanagh’s tongue. “Be at ease, gentlemen—I mean you no harm. On the contrary, you are very fortunate to have come to our attention. Before I say more, however, I must ask: How is it that you have come to so fervently pursue the creatures of the night?”

I expected them to shrug, to murmur something about curiosity or a foolish bet become real. I did not expect the Irishman to react so fervently.

“They took my wife,” he spat. “I have no intention of resting until I can be sure that those responsible have paid for their crimes.”

I was thoroughly taken aback. This was not some casual occupation, nor a way to somehow prove one’s worth. This man had very good reason for his nightly hunts, and would not soon be dissuaded. I turned my attention to the other.

“And you, sir? A doctor? I should think that you would have more than sufficient reason for getting a good night’s sleep, considering your work.”

“At one time I was kept quite busy with my patients,” he agreed. “I have found, however, that those in need of my services are not always… capable… of seeking me out.”

He was, of course, referring to those unfortunate victims who were still fortunate enough to not be killed outright by the demons these two men hunted. I nodded my understanding, and felt Harold join me.

“I am very glad to hear this, gentlemen,” he said to the two increasingly startled men. He touched his hat. “Harold Parker, at your service. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I have a proposition that I think would interest you greatly.”

It seemed very premature to introduce this possibility so soon after our encounter, but I had to heed the wisdom of London’s organiser. If anyone were experienced enough to know exactly what he was doing in this situation, it was him. Harold produced a slip of paper on which he had written out the address of his home—which doubled as our headquarters in that city—and a date and time the following week. He instructed the men to avoid getting themselves killed and expressed his hope that he would be seeing both of them again the next week.

Indeed they did come, whether from curiosity or otherwise I do not know. Harold had used the intervening time to make inquiries throughout the city and the surrounding county, and extend the same invitation to all those with interest. As often happened, there were several kinsmen and women in this area who had met and wished to marry mortal humans without undue complications. Two of these were selected by consensus and joined those kinsmen wishing to participate in the discussion and possible callings.

The situation worried me somewhat. A great many kinsmen had been called together for a meeting that hinged entirely on the whims of two mortals who had no idea whatsoever of the gravity of the circumstances. Even should they choose to present themselves at the appointed time, there was absolutely no guarantee that they would react favourably to the revelations that were now inevitably in store for them both. I was simply not comfortable taking such risks. If anything, they should have at least been told before Harold contacted the two kinsmen who would, with luck, be taking part in the transfer. If anything should go amiss, they would surely be disappointed.

Despite my reservations, however, the two men were true to their word. Mr. Kavanagh and Dr. Carlisle arrived together at exactly four o’clock on the chosen date without incident of any kind, although I was disappointed to see that their appearance had not improved since last I saw them.

I believe that Dr. Carlisle, in particular, was somewhat intimidated by the number of my kinsman who attended this meeting, though I have no idea what he may have instead expected. Within minutes, however, both men had been put completely at ease, by virtue of our hospitality and their own amiable natures. After the initial introductions had been made, we took lunch in the dining room and discussed their histories. More details were introduced, especially of the Dr. Carlisle and the circumstances under which he had found himself joining Mr. Kavanagh on his nightly hunts. Imagine my surprise to learn that the good doctor had once been nobility!

Upon seeing my astonished expression he immediately laughed.

“Believe me, Mr. Connor, I know how absurd it sounds,” he assured me. “And my parents were even more shocked when I informed them of my intentions.”

“What intentions were these, exactly?” a kinsman of mine politely inquired. “To hunt, as you have been doing?”

“Oh, heavens, no,” Dr. Carlisle said. “Nothing of the sort. Actually, it was not until a few years later that I met him. You already know that I am a doctor.” Heads nodded around the table. “Which is not, of course, an ignoble pursuit, especially for a family such as ours—my parents may be of noble blood, but the family has come under hard times in the past few generations and it seemed appropriate to augment our income with a respectable profession.

“Unfortunately, we had some differences in opinion concerning the point of my practicing medicine. My parents encouraged me to attend to wealthy clients—although none of our acquaintances, of course, as that could be considered a sign of our adverse fortunes. The trouble was that very few of these patients suffered more than the idle complaints of prosperous leisure. I began to see patients of lower class, and it was hardly more difficult than to take my pick of the poor souls wandering the streets at night. I did not charge more than a pittance, and I was discreet… or so I thought, because my parents informed me one day that I must desist immediately or risk shaming the entire family.

“I refused. As they already had my elder brother to carry on the family name, they disowned me entirely and sent me out to live in the streets. I was not destitute; I had collected a reasonable sum from my work, and still retained a few of my former wealthy clients. In fact I embraced my new-found freedom, for it allowed me to serve as many patients as I could find without fear of the repercussions if I were caught.”

“How, then, did you meet Mr. Kavanagh?” The question came from the same kinsman who had spoken before.

“I had already started my hunting by then,” Mr. Kavanagh answered. “Not so easy, when it’s just you that’s doing it. I got myself into a bit of a mess one night and Seth here found me. He patched me up as good as new, free of charge.”

“I was astonished at the nature of his injuries,” Dr. Carlisle said. “I’m sure you can imagine. I finally convinced him to tell me the truth of the matter and he took me along as soon as he was well.”

I was, as yet, unconvinced. “This one night, then,” I said, “This was enough to convince you?”

“Not quite,” the doctor conceded. “At first I came to keep an eye on him. The first night convinced me only of the danger of his pursuits. Since he wasn’t to be dissuaded, I could do nothing but follow in case my services were once again required. It was not until the following week that we encountered a… demon, as you call them… that had already found a victim. I was able to save the girl’s life while he dispatched the creature. Once I realised the danger these things posed to all people, not just those who pursued them, I really had no choice but to stay with him and help in any way I could.”

My kinsmen were impressed with the man’s tale; I could feel their approval without so much as glancing around the room. When I did, I noticed that Harold was smiling at the man. I admitted grudgingly to myself that this man—both, really—were turning out to be perfect candidates for what we were about to offer. Despite my hesitance to trust two men who were not kin in any way or form, it seemed impossible not to be fond of this good-natured man and his friend.

It was decided. It took us a little while longer to fully explain our nature and the role they would take should they agree. It was also necessary to clarify our capabilities in acquiring a wide range of things for those we called kin, which included new identification, lodging if required, and even placement in appropriate occupations. Neither of them having long-term obligations or family ties, they agreed immediately to the proposal.

Once the transfers had been completed, and our new kinsmen called to join us (and the former kinsman bidden a fond farewell), I set about the business of settling my two new cousins into suitable positions. Being still young and unknown, they were free to remain in London if they wished, but both expressed interest in travelling and so I made the arrangements for them to voyage to the city of Paris, from where the local organiser had sent word of insufficient mercenaries to combat the growing population of the breed known as vampyr, or vampire in the modern colloquialism.

I did not hear from either Seth or Gabriel for several more decades. By their accounts they spent the majority of their time wandering amongst the towns and villages of that country until nearly halfway through the twentieth century. After their departure I turned my attention to Essex. I accepted the offer of the position of organiser and took to it effortlessly. Indeed, it became a natural extension of my previous work collecting and organising the histories of our kinsman across the world. While my responsibilities in the new position were far more extensive, they were also far more limited by geography, and during that time I received a reasonable stipend rather than hold a common job.

Unfortunately, I could not stay as long as I would have liked. While organisers are commonly permitted to remain in one place for longer than the usual ten years, due to the necessity of having such a thorough knowledge and understanding of the territory involved, it is not at all safe to stay long enough for the mortals to notice one’s lack of visible aging. With deep regrets I sailed across the ocean to the fledgling nation of America. The population on the new continent was growing explosively, and as such they were in dire need of an experienced organiser—any organiser at all, really, although my experience was a great asset in my new home.

I was given the expanse of forests between Lake Erie and the Appalachian Mountains, to start. It may seem like an exceedingly large territory, compared to my previous responsibilities, but territories are allotted by population as much as geography. With the exception of the city of Pittsburgh, the land was merely dotted with small towns and farms cut out of the trees. I was less than pleased at the outset, of course, feeling somewhat insulted at the apparent slight to my capabilities. I soon discovered, however, that for as sparse as the population of humans might be, the demons flourished in great numbers. The forest was a haven for the half-beast weredemons, who after all did not necessarily need the flesh of humans to survive, for as much as they certainly prefer it. Simioli, too, roamed the forests in greater numbers than I had ever encountered. Fortunately, though, the latter seemed to have reverted to subsisting almost entirely on vegetation, so that while they were still abominations they did not often pose an immediate threat.

Fifteen years later I moved to the coastal region of Pennsylvania. This time my territory included Philadelphia, and I was tested to the limit of my capabilities. In such a large city it seemed all but impossible to keep track of all the comings and goings, although by this time the use of telephones was prevalent enough to expedite the flow of essential information by untold margins. At times I hardly slept for the phone ringing off its hook at all hours of the night, but by the time my tenure in Pennsylvania had expired the difference was tangible. Never before had a region become as tightly organised as Philadelphia and its suburbs, although of course many organisers have since taken heed of my example. A kinsman could find information on any cousin in the region with the ease of a single telephone call, and even secure the services of a willing imposter—complete with all necessary documentation and costuming—to pose as anything from grandmother to gardener. I even kept a list of businesses that commonly required new employees and I made a point of maintaining friendly relationships with the owners.

My next position was the island of Manhattan. Although it posed a significantly greater challenge even than Philadelphia, I had gained more than enough practice in my time there to have hardly any trouble with this doubly-named city. Word had already spread of my successes in Pennsylvania and it was hardly any effort at all to encourage the participation of all of my local kinsmen to supply me with the latest information of all types.

I was very focused on the requirements of my kin. I had also never made a habit of paying attention to the comings and goings of mortals. For as long as I could remember, they had gone their way while we had gone ours, and no thought was given otherwise. It fills me with great regret to admit that I did not notice when they began to perish in increasingly large quantities. I had noticed only that the demon populations seemed to be decreasing. As soon as it came to my attention, I had the matter investigated immediately by my best scouts.

As it turned out, the demon population had become so vast that they competed endlessly for their own territory. Whereas my kin are united, the many species and varieties of those creatures are forever at odds with one another. Normally this does not cause more than what—I can only assume—are civil disputes on a small scale; I have no care for what they do amongst themselves. On this occasion, however, the territorial disputes had escalated uncontrollably. My scouts reported that they each seemed to be attempting to claim territory from the others by killing prey on their rival’s grounds. Entire families of humans were destroyed for the sake of one clan’s claim to dominance over another. It was more than families, too; in certain neighbourhoods, half of a city block would disappear without warning. To the mortals, it appeared as if a plague had struck the city.

My duties were clear. I immediately notified the organisers of the surrounding territories of our dilemma and asked that they send all available mercenaries to the island in an effort to quash the hostilities. My first priority was to ensure that our secrets remained as such. As crass as this may seem to a human, it is not worth saving the life of a handful of our cousins only to risk the safety of all. You must understand: we have no fear of death. As connected as we are to the very fabric of all things there can remain no doubt in our minds that this connection does not depend upon the viability of our flesh.

With that in mind, I sent groups of mercenaries—kinsmen—on clandestine missions to seek out and destroy as many nests as they could without being detected by either demon or mortal. I could only send small groups, and I could only send them at night when they would be able to observe the demons and follow them back to their nests. This undertaking was not as simple, nor as easy, as it may seem. The first group to happen upon a nest was unable to clear it completely; several of the demons escaped, and surely informed others of our nature.

Still, though, we had yet to reveal ourselves to the humans and so I insisted, for the sake of us all, that only a few go at a time. Some were successful. Others were not. My prior fears were confirmed when a number of my kin were accosted on the streets; they had been recognized by those demons who had previously escaped. Fortunately, though, my kinsmen were able to defeat their attackers, and by the end of this encounter only one cousin was slain: a Benenati from Italy, who had been spending some time in the Americas. I informed his family via their local organiser and returned to my task.

The hostilities were ended four years after they had first begun. Many of my kin had fallen, but not without destroying those abominations against nature by the thousands, and tens of thousands. You see, the territorial wars were not confined merely to the island of Manhattan, or even to its suburbs; they stretched both north and south along the Atlantic coast, escalating in cities where the populations—and therefore potential chattel—were at their greatest. To my everlasting surprise, it was Seth and Gabriel, the two men whom I had located in London, who played the largest roles in the end. Based on reports from them and those with whom they worked most closely, it would appear that they—and Gabriel in particular—had taken the initiative to identify not just the locations of the nests but the leaders of each clan and tribe. It must have required great discipline on his part in order to observe the creatures long enough to make these identifications, without succumbing to the inevitable and killing them outright.

Our enemy was at last defeated, although defeated may indeed be too bold a term. Those abominations which have been our enemy from the very beginning walk the earth still, but their numbers were, at that time, depleted nearly to nonexistence. For the first time since even the eldest of our kin could remember, it was safe for any mortal to walk through empty streets at night, excepting of course those things that mortals insist on inflicting upon one another. As regrettable as the latter may be, however, it is not our concern.

Satisfied that all were once again safe, I set myself to the task of defining some precautions that would better ensure our safety and anonymity. For example: since clearly it would not do to allow any demons to escape our kin, and thus be able to recognize those kin and no longer be taken by surprise, it would be necessary to restrict planned hunts (meaning those who would be destroying a scouted nest or coven) to no fewer than one kinsman for ever four demons. There were other measures to be taken as well; some of these were more popular than others, but I assured all who questioned my wisdom that every last one was most certainly indispensable in order to prevent any further tragedies.

Years passed once more. In time, Gabriel remarried and had a daughter, to compliment his son. Seth’s daughter, too, grew to adulthood and married, and then had two children of her own. I spent my years in something quite akin to leisure. After what I had been through to save my kin and the mortals, I rather deserved to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labour. There was nothing on the island to trouble me, save for the occasional necessity of securing new identification for myself and my kin. Every so often I switched homes, to avoid suspicion as to my age, and was pleased to find just how simple it was to do so in such a vast and largely anonymous city.

Unfortunately, it appeared after a little while that the demons were once again finding their way to the briefly empty region. I found it necessary to resume the collection of data concerning numbers and locations of demons and their nests, although all this of course was still child’s play compared to the tribulations of decades past. As such, I did not worry overmuch; my kin were all healthy and well, and the humans—who had briefly been allowed to know of our existence, as it is rather difficult to maintain anonymity when one is attempting to save a person’s life—once again remained ignorant of our presence.

Seth’s grandson returned to American… or, rather, he came to visit the land that had once been his grandfather’s and mother’s home, for he had never before then set foot on these shores. He was a good man, newly called, and certainly as enthusiastic about the whole situation as the young always are. I believe much of this was due to the more numerous demons of his home country, as they had not undergone such an extinction as they had in New York City and the adjoining region. I arranged for him to stay in one of our apartments, above a convenience shop, for the time being. He shared that with several other young kin and worked for a small company owned and staffed by cousins and family friends. For the most part, I left him to his own devices, for he seemed like a perfectly capable young man.

It was not until several months later that I finally received word of certain concurrent incidents occurring around the region of Southern California, on the opposite coast of the country. The Organiser of the area submitted several reports of murders to Council Records, insisting that they may very well be related and not at all coincidental, being as they were the apparent slayings of entire families of our kin. The man appeared to have the situation well in hand, however, so I allowed him to do as he would and recommended that others follow suit.

I did not hear from the man after that, so I simply assumed that the matter had been resolved to his satisfaction and no further interference was required. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the man had in fact been killed along with the majority of our kinsmen in Los Angeles; not only that, it appeared as though the incidents were spreading towards the East. It was not terribly long afterwards that it became necessary to re-rally the troops in my own region, as it were.

Bless my cousins, for they all fought quite earnestly when they were informed of the situation. One would think that such a long interval with no violence whatsoever would have grown on them, and they would have been more than a little reluctant to take up their metaphorical arms once more. Goodness knows I had my own troubles readjusting to the new circumstances; perhaps it was that I retained many of my duties as organiser for the area, and had grown accustomed to a particular level of activity.

Regardless, the matter was sorted out very shortly after reaching my attention. That dear young man, Alejandro, managed to locate the fellow responsible as he was wandering the streets that I had successfully cleared. Imagine my shock when I learned that the entire debacle was the work of one of our own kinsmen! I hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with the man; fortunately, Alejandro was kind enough to take the matter into his own hands for the moment, even if his actions were a slight bit out of his authority.

No matter; the cousin was set right, the demons were subdued, and any further outbreaks of such attacks were well and thoroughly averted. The matter resolved, I once again returned to my assigned duties in the city of New York.