Chapter 78 The Bill
COUNT ALTERONI
The chamber beneath Old Bailey feels like a tomb tonight. Thirteen vampires gathered to vote on genocide, and most of them don't even care.
Lord Harborough calls the session to order. "We convene for final vote on Extermination Bill 47-B. Authorization to deploy hunters against organized resistance in the Rookeries district."
Final vote. We've debated this for weeks. Now it's time to decide.
Mordaunt stands first. Of course he does. He authored the bill, orchestrated support, eliminated opposition. This is his victory lap.
"The facts are simple," he begins. "Seventy-three packless wolves, organized without Parliamentary oversight, represent direct threat to established order. They must be eliminated."
"They're helping each other survive," I interrupt. Can't help myself. "That's not a threat. That's community."
"Community that undermines pack structure." Mordaunt doesn't look at me. Dismisses me without acknowledgment. "Community that demonstrates packless wolves don't need our guidance. That's dangerous precedent."
"Dangerous to whom?" I stand. "Not to humans. Not to other supernaturals. Only dangerous to us. To our control. To our authority."
"Yes." Mordaunt smiles. "Exactly. Our authority maintains order. Undermining it creates chaos."
"Or it creates freedom."
Murmurs around the table. Some approving, most disapproving. I'm losing but I have to try.
"I have evidence," I say, pulling out the documents. Isla's medical records, obtained through contacts. "The Rookeries community isn't just surviving. They're saving lives."
I spread the papers across the table. "Isla Reid, registered nurse, runs medical operation. In six months she's treated one hundred twelve packless wolves. Prevented forty-seven from going feral through early intervention. Saved eighteen from suicide. Delivered three healthy children."
"How touching." Lady Castellane sounds bored. "One hundred twelve wolves who should have died quietly. Instead they're organized threat."
"They're people." I slam my hand on the table. "Not problems. Not threats. People who deserve chance to survive."
"Sentiment." Mordaunt's voice cuts like ice. "Count Alteroni speaks from emotion, not reason. Yes, these wolves are suffering. Yes, they're helping each other. But that doesn't change fundamental issue. They're organized without permission. They're building power outside our control. That cannot stand."
"Why not?" I demand. "Give me one good reason why seventy-three wolves helping each other threatens Parliamentary authority."
"Because seventy-three becomes one hundred," Mordaunt explains patiently. Like teaching a child. "One hundred becomes five hundred. Five hundred becomes alternative power structure. Eventually packless wolves across London organize. Demand recognition. Demand rights. Demand voice in our government. Where does it end?"
"In equality?" I suggest. "In justice? In system that doesn't abandon people for being inconvenient?"
"In chaos." Mordaunt sits down. "I'm calling the vote."
"Wait." I pull out more documents. "I have financial records. Proof that Rookeries community contributes to local economy. Businesses they support, jobs they create, crime they prevent by providing alternatives to desperation."
Lord Harborough glances at the papers. "Irrelevant. We're not voting on their economic impact. We're voting on their threat to Parliamentary authority."
"Which only exists because we feel threatened," I argue. "If we integrated them instead of exterminating them, there'd be no threat. Create official category for packless wolves. Give them representation. Bring them into system instead of crushing them."
"Rewarding rebellion," Mordaunt says. "That's what you're proposing. They organize without permission, we respond by legitimizing them. What message does that send?"
"That we're capable of adaptation. Of mercy. Of recognizing when our systems are failing people." I'm desperate now. Know I'm losing but can't stop. "These wolves aren't rebelling. They're surviving. Big difference."
"Semantics." Lady Ashford speaks up. She's been quiet until now. "They're organizing against our wishes. That's rebellion regardless of motivation."
"Then every act of survival is rebellion," I snap. "Every person who refuses to die quietly is threat. Is that really the precedent we want?"
Silence.
Then Mordaunt speaks quietly. "Yes. That's exactly the precedent we want. Survival on our terms or not at all. That's how power works, Count Alteroni. I'm surprised you haven't learned that in four hundred years."
He's right. I know he's right. Power demands submission or destruction. Always has, always will.
But I can't accept it.
"I have one more piece of evidence." I pull out the final document. Photo of newly turned wolf, teenage girl, smiling in front of Isla's shelter. "Her name is Danny. Fifteen years old. Turned against her will, abandoned by her pack, left to die. Isla saved her. Taught her to control transformations. Gave her community. Danny's now helping other newly turned wolves."
I pass the photo around the table. "Look at her face. That's what we're voting to exterminate. Not threat. Not rebellion. Just girl who wants to live."
Lady Wessex studies the photo. She's one of my allies, voted against extermination before. "This is compelling, Alteroni. But one sympathetic case doesn't change broader issue."
"Doesn't it?" I take the photo back. "Because I have forty-seven more. Forty-seven wolves Isla saved from going feral. All of them with faces, names, stories. All of them people we're deciding to kill."
"Enough." Harborough's patience expires. "We've heard your arguments. Multiple times. The vote proceeds."
"Final statements?" Mordaunt asks. Procedure requires it.
"I'll speak." I stand again. "You're all old. Ancient, some of you. You've seen empires rise and fall. Watched humans evolve from tribes to nations. Witnessed revolutions, transformations, fundamental changes in how society functions."
I pause, making sure they're listening.
"And through all of it, you've survived by adapting. By changing with times. By recognizing when old systems no longer work." I gesture at the documents. "Pack system is failing. It abandons people. Creates suffering. Generates desperate wolves who organize because they have no choice. Exterminating them doesn't fix problem. Just delays it."
"Your point?" Mordaunt asks.
"My point is this: we can exterminate these seventy-three wolves. Kill them all. But more will come. More will organize. More will refuse to die quietly. You can't kill everyone." I meet each vampire's eyes. "Eventually you have to adapt. Recognize that system needs changing. Tonight's vote isn't about these specific wolves. It's about whether we're capable of change or doomed to enforce failing system through violence."
I sit down.
Mordaunt waits a beat, then stands. "Inspiring speech. Truly. But Count Alteroni makes my argument for me. He says more wolves will organize. More will resist. That's exactly why we must act now. Crush this resistance before it spreads. Send clear message: organize without permission, face extermination. That message prevents future rebellions."
"Through fear," I say.
"Through deterrence." Mordaunt corrects. "Call the vote, Lord Harborough."
Harborough nods. "All in favor of Extermination Bill 47-B?"
Hands rise. I count them with sinking heart.
Mordaunt. Castellane. Ashford. Harborough. Four others I knew would vote yes.
Eight hands.
"Opposed?"
My hand goes up. Lady Wessex. Count Pemberton. One other.
Four against.
"Bill passes eight to four." Harborough's gavel falls. "Parliamentary hunters are authorized to eliminate organized resistance in Rookeries district. Timeline: two weeks. Lord Mordaunt will coordinate operations."
Two weeks.
Seventy-three wolves marked for death.
And I failed to stop it.
"Meeting adjourned." Harborough stands. Everyone files out.
Mordaunt pauses beside my seat. "Well fought, Count. Your passion is admirable even if your judgment is questionable."
"This is murder," I say quietly.
"This is governance." He leans in. "And between us? I know about the fifteen thousand pounds. The weapons. The funding. I have proof."
My blood goes cold.
"I'm choosing not to act on that information," Mordaunt continues. "Because I respect your conviction even when I disagree with your methods. But don't push your luck. You voted your conscience. Fine. But if you actively interfere with extermination operations, I'll have you executed for treason."
He walks away before I can respond.
I sit alone in the empty chamber.
Two weeks until hunters deploy. Seventy-three wolves who don't know they're doomed.
And I can't warn them without risking execution.
My phone feels heavy in my pocket. I pull it out, stare at the screen.
Valentina's number is saved. Anonymous contact, encrypted messaging. I could warn her right now. Tell her the timeline, tell her to run, tell her Parliament's coming.
But Mordaunt knows about the funding. Knows I'm helping them. One more act of treason and I'm dead.
Four hundred years of existence. Four hundred years of careful survival. All of it at risk for wolves I've never met.
I type the message anyway.
I failed. They're coming. Two weeks.
My finger hovers over send.
Mordaunt's threat echoes in my head. Interfere and die.
But seventy-three wolves will die if I don't warn them.
I press send.
The message disappears. Can't take it back now.
I've just signed my own death warrant.
But at least those wolves will have a chance.
That has to count for something.