She didn't answer for a minute or so, not until they turned south on Greenwich Street, and when she did, it was short and clipped. "--born." Her heart beat, her blood coursed, her skin flushed; only those who had been bitten and turned were considered "legally dead". And since turning was now, in most world governments, a felony - and the howls of vampire outrage had nearly shaken the earth from its axis, the indignant babies - the vampire population had, thankfully, crested and was now actually on the decline, much to the rest of the planet's relief.

And honestly, it wasn't that the vampire nation was truly hurt by the fact that those strong enough weren't legally allowed to turn their pets or lovers or any idiot actually wanting that particular lifestyle, it was more the fact that they'd been forbidden from doing so. The typical vampire considered itself the pinnacle of human evolution and believed that as such, paltry human rules couldn't apply to their species. Those old enough to remember the days of skulking about in the darkness, feeding on animals and whatever prey they could scrounge made a point to keep their fanged mouths closed, more than willing to let the younger, "outraged" generation draw all the ire.

Self-centered ingrates, the lot of them.

But a few, like Natasha, had turned their back on coven and bloodties, following the way of logic and embracing the newer way of life, as it only made sense if all of the species were going to cohabitate. There was only one planet, after all, and they all had to learn to share.

Which made whatever it was tearing monsters to bits in the north forests a definite threat, one that needed to be neutralized. Immediately.