Wrong answer. Waves of fresh laughter erupted. I fumed as my plan for my grand come out was buried in a sea of mirth and disbelief. Courtesy be damned. Time to make them believe.

Standing up, I felt my power, cultivated over centuries and made greater by an obscene amount of kills, race through my body. I drew upon it with my will, my indomitable will, and then used it.

“Quiet,” I boomed, my voice echoing out like a sound wave and stunning them into abrupt silence. Wide eyes stared at me, they had no other choice. I’d frozen them in place with the esoteric force I wielded. I levitated up and over the podium because the time, it seemed, had arrived for a more up close and personal chat. I sank gracefully down to the ground directly in front of the first row of humans. I flicked at a piece of lint that dared mar the sleek black leather I wore. Cliché, but I enjoyed the suppleness and look of skin-tight leather. And the blood came off it nicely, too, for the times my dinner fought me.

I beamed widely at the reporters, my fangs-all natural of course-flashing as I let them drop from my gums. “Now, as I was saying, I am a vampire, and not just any vampire. I am the Queen’s general, her most loyal servant and spokesperson.” And next in line for the throne if someone actually manages to get past her safeguards and kill her. Not that I wished her dead. On the contrary, I preferred my current queen keep the headaches and annoyance that came with being ruler. That, and I couldn’t stand the sycophants that surrounded people in power.

I released my will and like puppets with their strings cut loose, several of the crowd slumped. One reporter, his eyes wild with fear-my favorite look after adoration-stumbled from his chair and raced out of the room. The rest of the reporters, though, gathered their resolve and leaned forward raptly, the scent of a story, the story, overriding fear and common sense. Stupid humans.