Third Person.
A gasp rippled across the room. One of the officers leaned forward. "Sir, how do we explain this attack? We can't tell the public about vampires. They will panic."
Brackham's lip curled into something almost like a cold, triumphant smile.
"We won't mention vampires. We don't need to. We will inform the public that we have uncovered a dangerous weapons stockpile hidden in the forest—foreign smuggling rings, mercenaries, or whatever name you prefer. Say it was a national threat, and we eliminated it before it reached their streets."
The men exchanged uneasy looks, but no one dared challenge him.
"Draft the orders," Brackham barked. "By dawn, I want the first sweep prepared. The woods will burn, and with them, every last leech skulking in the dark."
Everyone exchanged silent glances, but Brackham cared about none of that.
"How many explosives do we have staged for the eastern woods sweep?" He suddenly barked.
