Ritchie lay in his bed, staring up in thought at the bunk above him, thinking. Apparently he was a direct descendant of Viviana, and was part veela himself, making him the most powerful of his generation. Maria had explained to him that the monsters who ran this hell-hole they disguised as a rehab center were controlled by one central man. A race born out of too much inbreeding and some ghastly science experiments. They ate people, and not like the noble vampiric bloodsucking of his ancestors. They would feed on the people’s misery, and then when the people could take it no more, they’d select a few to be devoured. It sickened Ritchie to think of it, but part of the nauseous feeling in his gut, he knew, was caused by knowing he would have to be the one to eliminate them all. And the only way to rid the world of the entire race was by killing the first made. Who, coincidentally just happened to run the rehab center that Ritchie just happened to be staying at Maria told him fate alone had caused him to be there