There was a knocking at the back door. Tom opened it to reveal a rain-sodden Louie with a body hoisted over his shoulder.
"What on Carrotus... who is that?"
"Some kind of undead hunter, judging by the equipment he was carrying."
"But..." Tom was lost for words.
"Look, can I come in? It's pouring out here."
"Come on. You'd better take him up to my room." Tom stood back as Louie entered. He barely avoided hitting his burden's head off the top of the door frame. He carried Alexander Garand upstairs and laid him out on Tom and Susan's bed.
"Why did you bring him here?"
"I couldn't leave him out there. The werewolves that were after him never leave the woods, but other things do."
"Werewolves?"
"Yes, there were a pack of them after him."
That's not what Tom had meant. It was only a few days ago that he'd been forced to accept the existence of vampires. Now he had werewolves to deal with.

Tom stuck his head through the hatchway in the attic floor. "That's the video done. I even got Louie to hold up today's newspaper to prove it was made today."
Susan had just finished putting a bed sheet over an old, worn mattress. With Garand in their room, Majo in the spare room, and Tony on the sofa, they had no choice but to sleep in the attic. Louie slept on the bare floor. They'd offered him the mattress, but he'd insisted their need was greater than his.
"Thomas," said Susan.
"What's wrong, dear?" he replied. She hardly ever called him Thomas.
"What's about to happen." She paused. Tom gave her an inquisitive look. "It's exactly why we left Earian."
"That was different."
"Different?" Her voice raised slightly as she continued, "of course it was different. There were no refugees, after all."
"There must have been some refugees. Remember that business with the Autonomous Lizard's Republic?"
"That doesn't count," replied Susan, again a little louder. "That didn't make any real refugees."
"As I recall, the hotel manager got his arm broken," said Tom, a little apprehensively.
"Can we forget about the hotel for a second?" snapped Susan.
"Sorry. Tell you what, as soon as we get the mansion sorted out, we'll take a holiday. We could go to Thernon to see your brother perform. He's wanted you to visit him ever since he got into the Royal Opera's orchestra."
"That's just it. I can't leave. You think with hundreds of refugees arriving, they're going to let a surgeon take a holiday? And even if they did, you think I'd leave?"

"Thank you, dear," said Hilda, stiffly. Hilda took a sip of the tea she had just been handed.
"My pleasure, grandmother," replied Gary. He closed his briefcase. "I can't thank you enough."
"Nonsense. Anything to see the family name back in charge of Peddleburg. Every penny of that must go to your campaign, mind. I expect to see receipts. Now zip up the mattress, there's a good boy." Parker obeyed, making sure none of the banknotes fell out onto the floor. He would never understand why his grandmother flatly refused to open a bank account. Just as well, though. He'd be back for the rest some other time. Hilda looked over her visitor. A self-centred, devious little brat. But he'd make a good governor. And who knows, maybe he'd stop asking her for money. He had no excuse for it, not with his inheritance. She took another large sip. This was very invigorating tea. Her heart hadn't been this active in years.
"There we go. Now I'm afraid I'll have to leave you, grandmother dear."
"Oh, what a pity," she lied. "Goodbye. Don't forget to call again soon."
"I won't. I'm sure I'll see you again very soon. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," said Hilda as he closed the door behind him. Her heart was positively racing now. Out in the hall, Gary met Hilda's maid.
"Poor girl," he thought, "she'll be out of a job soon. I simply must offer her an interview."
He wished her a good day and left.

"He's waking up!" called Majo. She was sitting by Alexander's bedside. Alexander cursed inwardly. He would have liked to have assessed his surroundings before anyone realised he was awake. Not only that, but his face felt like it had been hit by a train. He opened his eyes. It was immediately obvious that he hadn't been taken back to the Greenthorpe mansion.
"Where am I?"
"The Bradhurst residence, Greenthorpe," replied Majo. Tom and Susan entered the room.
"Who are you?" he asked. As they introduced themselves, Louie arrived.
"What do you want with me?" asked Alexander.
"We want to know why you were hunting Mr. Greenthorpe, here," said Susan. He considered this. He didn't know why they had no problem with the vampire. They were clearly in on the Masquerade, and they must have realised he was with Schism or a similar organisation.
"An incident a few days ago. A squad of marines and a TV crew were slaughtered by the present occupier of Mr. Greenthorpe's home. Which I am assuming is Mr. Greenthorpe."
"I moved out several days ago," said Louie. "The guy who killed those people is someone else. But you needn't worry about him."
"Oh?"
"He had a nasty accident involving a piano. Lost his head, you see."
"Ah. Would this 'accident' have involved you in any way?"
"Might have."
"Luckily for you, you can take the Masquerade Law into your own hands. After all, Schism can't police the entire planet."
"Schism? Never heard of it."
"But it's heard of you, and that's what's important."
"Schism. A very unofficial Carrotus government department that preserves the Masquerade," said Tom, recalling his studies.
"Yes," said Alexander.
"So good at what it does, I didn't even believe it existed until now."
"What is this 'Masquerade'?" asked Majo. Alexander swore under his breath. They weren't all in on the Masquerade after all. Well, they were now.
"It's what keeps the world ignorant to the presence of things like vampires and werewolves," replied Tom.
"And whatever moral quibbles you may have about it, it's vital that people stay ignorant," said Alexander. "You're all going to have to take the Oath of Secrecy. And then I'd like to confirm the elimination of the guy who brought me out here."