What We Are

Chapter 11: A Challenge

Claude had promised to go back to Fernsby Manor much more regularly than he'd been doing so. Now that his fate's been sealed—way sooner than he expected—it was only right that he be more present and involved in important family matters.

Before Claude became a business major, he'd already had prior knowledge about the ins-and-outs of how his family ran their business. Their chain of supermarkets didn't appear out of thin air, nor was it luck that got them to be this successful. Claude's ancestors started with a small convenience store, and the generations of Fernsby's continued to grow the business no matter who was head of the family at the time.

Back when the first Wise Shopper's Supermarket was built, Claude imagined that the relatives that came before him had to have been more involved with the logistics of their business, as well as the day-to-day managerial tasks. Now, with ninety-seven branches spread throughout the country, the Fernsby family took charge on a macroscale-level. 

To keep such a large company running, hundreds of investors from different institutions, funds, and banks now own stock for the Wise Shopper's Supermarket business chain. That being said, Zachariah Fernsby and Richard Fernsby remain the sole majority shareholders. "We keep the family business within the family," Claude's father had said to him in the past, back when the term old money did not mean anything to Claude. "We are the only ones allowed to have the final say about what happens to our business."

Online meetings between other investors, directors, and the executive leaders happened frequently. Before Claude turned eighteen, he wasn't allowed to be inside his father's office during these meetings. 

Today, he was all but pulled by the collar of his shirt to sit next to his father and observe, his Uncle Richard sitting across from them with a laptop of his own.

Zachariah panned the webcam to his son as he introduced all those present; middle-aged men and women who Claude had met in various events before but never had the reason to remember. The little space at the bottom of everyone's video feeds containing their position and name helped Claude memorize who was who a bit faster, and he committed these individuals into his memory. He'd have to ask his father to help him get familiar with the company members they'd be talking to frequently. 

The meeting for today was to generate ideas about their next nationwide sale, which was happening in three months around the same time the winter season would come.

The first thing Claude truly noticed was that, no matter the competitiveness of his father and uncle when it came to sports, they did not clash when it came to inputs for the business. The brothers had nearly the same starting points, their ideas backed up or corrected by business analysts, then refined by the heads of creative marketing teams and further improved on by other executive leaders.

It seemed as though the meeting dragged on, but also Claude felt that it ended too quickly. His past few years studying as a business major did not fail him—he kept up with majority of what's said in the meeting, writing down the parts he did not completely understand yet. The graphs and presentations took a little more brainpower to comprehend.

His father concluded the meeting, announcing their next schedule. By four o'clock, Zachariah and Richard were standing and stretching their joints after nearly three hours sat on their leather office chairs.

"I was afraid you'd look bored or lost." Richard shrugged off his blazer and sat back down to speak to Claude. "Your father used to despise having to sit in conference rooms back when your grandfather was still running the business."

Zachariah came close to where Claude was still seated, placing a hand on Claude's shoulder. "I was eighteen and found business boring." The head of the Fernsby family looked down at his son, smiling. It pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "Did you find this interesting?"

Claude nodded, having to tile his head upward to meet his father's stare. "We've been exposed to these sorts of things at I.I.U. Obviously this was... real," He said for lack of a better word. "I got to see what I'm going to apply my learnings to."

The door to the office room opened then, revealing Claude's mother in her white blouse and flowing pants. With her was a tray with four drinks in tall glasses. "I had Christina whip us up some lemonade. Sadly, the ones in the garden still haven't ripened, so these lemons are from the market."

Alma handed Claude his own glass along with a kiss on top of his head; her usual greeting. "How did it go?"

"Seems our son has a natural affinity to even the boring parts of business." The delight Claude's father felt at the revelation made no attempt to hide.

"Is that true?" Alma ran her hand through Claude's hair once. If Claude was way younger, she'd have most likely already ruffled his hair and showered him with kisses by now. His mother took to physical displays of affection to show how pleased she was with her family.

Claude stirred the lemonade, the ice cubes clinking with every move of the metal straw. The lemonade was just right; not too sour, not too sweet. "You'd have been proud of me mother," He began, a theatrical lilt building with his next words. "I sat there, and I took. down. notes."

His father and uncle found it funny. His mother pinched the area near his armpit, her sharp nails combined with Claude's lack of animal blood meant the pinch stung more than it usually would. Claude kept silent as his father said to them, "Once I see Claude much more familiar with all this, I'll make him into a director of the company. And before you say anything, my dear," Zachariah sent his wife a knowing look. "I'll be sure to give Claude ample time in order to adjust to his position as Head Vampire before taking on another daunting role."

Claude's uncle hummed, tilting his head in thought. "Does Claude know what he wants his first project as Head Vampire to be?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to Claude. The sudden rapt attention made him place his glass onto the desk, subtly coughing as some of the lemonade went down the wrong pipe. "We've already discussed a few possibilities," Claude's father said, nodding encouragingly. "I trust Claude to plan and decide the whole thing way before he's to start."

Claude tried not to view his father's statement as a subtle ultimatum presented to him. It certainly felt that way.

They all started talking above him, throwing suggestions such as doing charity work or establishing an event with the families of Gratia Clan. Claude was guilty of only half-listening, even though the ideas were meant for him. 

He did not need their suggestions. Truth was, before Claude came to Tempest Grounds this weekend, there was already an issue which had beleaguered his mind recently.

Right now was the exact moment he should bring it up, and yet Claude hesitated. The mood between all of them was surprisingly light considering the talk of his future, and he wasn't keen on changing that. 

It was when his mother joked about just throwing a grand celebration as his first project that Claude decided to finally intervene.

"What if... What if I chose to work on a project that, umm... created a more positive relationship between our Clan and werewolves?" Too many pauses, too much stuttering. Claude wanted to punch himself.

Understandably, his words caught the three vampires off-guard. The silence was expected, so were the confused expressions Claude's family wore. 

He couldn't talk about Mr. Lasern approaching him at I.I.U. to speak about about Irene, the professor's werewolf wife, and her uncertain safety in Gratia Clan. There's a large chance it might put the man's career in jeopardy for being quote/unquote unprofessional. With that in mind, Claude began to spin a truth from a bigger truth, swallowing at the sudden dryness of his throat. "I believe it's time vampires and werewolves start putting aside their century-old feud for good. Who better to set an example than the Head Vampire of Gratia Clan?" Claude hoped his voice sounded as steady as he wanted it to be. Maybe if he looked confident enough, his family wouldn't feel the need to stop him.

His mother was the quickest to recover from her shock. "That would certainly make a statement." She sat next to uncle Richard and angled her body to face Claude, a growing smile on her face. "Personally, I think it's a brilliant idea."

A sense of relief. But Claude couldn't relax just yet.

His uncle and his father were visibly skeptical. "I guess they really do teach you these types of ideas in those universities. Have you taken into account that you'll have to convince the other Old Families to be on board?" asked Uncle Richard.

Claude remembered the particular detail Mr. Lasern told him about working for the Peev's and hearing the way they spoke of werewolves. Having lived with that and then marrying a woman who he knew would be shunned once he took her to his Clan, it must have left Mr. Lasern with enough worries to rattle him in his sleep.

Getting the Peev's and the Erancus's to see his side about the importance of this particular project would certainly be a challenge, but... "If I choose to do this, it will leave a large impact not only on our Clan, but also to werewolves who feel unsafe to even approach vampires from Tempest Grounds. I want this to be the basis of my first project, uncle."

Another terse silence.

"It'll be good PR," His father conceded, not exactly the words Claude was looking for but it's better than a no. "That is if you somehow establish those ideals of yours from the get-go in a way that doesn't appear forced to others."

"What about trying to speak with Dean Axel first?" His mother suddenly interjected. "He's near your age, and if he has similar goals as you then he might want to partake in the project you plan to see through."

Claude has had much practice in keeping his features neutral. Dean being Head Alpha of the most well-known Pack in New Oasis state meant that mentioning his name within their home wasn't as uncommon as some expected.

It was fortunate for Claude that his family wasn't one to hate on werewolves for the sake of hating. Among the Old Families, the Fernsby's were least likely to get involved in a spat with werewolves for petty reasons. He hadn't even heard his mother and father talk badly about werewolves in the past, unless it was warranted.

"As good of an idea that is, I presume Head Alpha Dean won't want anything to do with our Clan," Uncle Richard replied to Claude's mother. "Besides, if Claude pushes through with this initiative he's suddenly taken an interest to, it'll cause old issues to resurface."

Claude couldn't help himself, the tone of his uncle's voice made something inside him tick. "Why is that?" It sounded more like a demand than a question, but his family didn't seem to notice.

"His parents were killed by vampires right here in Tempest Grounds," His father explained with a sigh attached to the end, giving away how much this certain fact had affected them in the past. "As you know, none of those vampires were members of Gratia Clan. This doesn't diminish the glaring fact that rogue vampires chose to drag the Axel's all the way out here. It makes it hard to believe that Gratia Clan had nothing to do with the attack."

Claude was eleven when the event of Oliver and Erin's murder made headlines. Back then, he hadn't known that the injured werewolf he met in the woods was Dean Axel himself. His young mind hadn't connected the dots. The newspapers and TV stations had all reported varying theories, different suspects, and anonymous clues popping up here and there. 

The reality had dawned upon New Oasis state around the third week of the investigations: there were no leads to help solve the case, no obvious motives to complete the puzzle. 

It had been deemed officially a cold case after two months, and the then thirteen year-old Dean Axel mourned without answers.  

They've talked about it at length before, always during the anniversary of Dean's parents' death. The location of the murder should have been enough to put a strain between Claude and Dean's friendship, but Dean was nothing if not rational. Those vampires that killed his parents—the ones that ended up the same state as the Axel couple—did not represent the entirety of vampire-kind. 

Zachariah was speaking again before Claude could correct his uncle. "I'll give him this, Dean Axel has since earned his reputation as Head Alpha. The Erancus's and the Peev's can believe what they want. So far, I've heard nothing but good things about how Dean Axel runs his Pack."

Richard adjusted in his seat, and for a split second Claude braced himself for the man's opposition to the wonderful statements about Dean. Surprisingly, it did not come. "The media certainly has taken a liking to him. I've heard that Head Alpha Dean has been looking into organizations that help young vampires as well." Claude had not heard that piece of information from Dean. It certainly sounded like the Dean he knew.   

"I'm sure his parents—rest their souls—are proud of him," Alma added, finality in her voice.

This was the first time Claude has heard his parents and his uncle openly compliment Dean. Claude did not feel any pressure or jealousy that others in his shoes probably would have. This was Dean they were talking about, and knowing that his family thought highly of his (secret) best friend, the person Claude's come to rely on, made the vampire feel ecstatic and relieved.

It was work not to smile. "I take that this means I can carry on with my first project as Head Vampire centered around the intentions I've stated?"

His mother's face did that thing which meant that the Head Vampire was getting ready to tell Claude something that she would rather not say. "Claudius, as proud as this all makes me, your empathy and passion is merely a spark to wet wood. It is crucial that you don't set your expectations too high. Nobody can change decades worth of prejudice during a single lifetime."

And wasn't that the elephant in the room, constantly stomping its ginormous feet on Claude's chest from time to time, never letting him forget that it was there.

Claude ignored the heaviness weighing in his chest. He needed to have his family's back on this, because once he goes public, their support will make all the difference. "I'm aware, mother. But all changes have to start somewhere."

"I'm giving you the green light to start brainstorming your plan," His father began, holding up a hand to prevent Claude from celebrating too soon. "But I need your word that you will prepare amply for whatever problems you may encounter because of this decision. More importantly, I need you to promise me that you will not lose sight about what matters to Gratia Clan. Your duty is first and foremost to protect our Clan, including our foundations and our identity."

-----

Claude excused himself from his father's office. He needed to go hunting. His parents knew he was already running low, skin paler than normal, and so they didn't try to keep him there any longer. 

He could've taken a golf cart to help clear the distance to the woods much faster, but Claude needed the walk and the fresh air.

There were big mammals in the woods, but not a lot. Claude wasn't in the mood to look for bigger game anyway. He settled on rabbits which he spotted gnawing on leaves from a bush nearby. 

Claude rolled up his sleeves and quickly grabbed a rabbit by its hind leg, making the others hop away. With a rabbit that's smaller in size, he's long since honed the art of not getting blood to drip past his lips. Though he chased and drained two more fully-grown rabbits, he left no such trace besides their lifeless bodies.

Much like all the times he's visited the woods in the past, Claude's feet took him back to the clearing where he met Dean for the first time.

Looking back, that night might've changed Claude's entire life. 

Claude thought about Dean, of Mr. Lasern and his wife, Irene, of his other werewolf friends, Dalton and Kezia.

Some Gratia vampires had lots of misconceptions about werewolves in general, either because of their complete ignorance or because they don't really partake in society outside the comfort of Tempest Grounds and other known vampire-dominated territories. 

Claude wanted to be a voice of change, because no other Gratia Clan Head Vampire had done the things he wanted to do. He also didn't want to fail his mother and father's expectation of him to lead, to continue what they've been trying to protect for the past decades. 

A large leaf detached itself from a tall branch, the light breeze bringing it close to the ground next to Claude's feet. He picked it up, observing its center which had begun to turn yellow.

His family thought that Claude had to pick: he could either be the Head Vampire he's trained to become all his life, or he could completely diverge from the stone path and be the person who ensures that vampires like Mr. Lasern have a safe environment to bring home loved ones. 

Who's to say Claude couldn't do both?