I know a secret.
It’s not my secret, it’s a secret of the Night.

Every night, as the Sun goes down behind the mountains in the distant East, we creatures crawl from the dark of our mansions and convene in the realms of Blood.
But forget every vampire novel you have ever read, real vampyres don’t sparkle, and even a stake won’t kill us.
At night, we don’t even look human.

We have a target now. The ultimate target.
She has written about our kind in the crudest of manners, and made it seem as if one of our kind – God forbid – could love one of yours.

We are a level below God’s angels. We are Loki’s servants, punishing you for your sins before you can redeem them, or taking you to God’s light.

But tonight, we have surrounded her house. This is our secret. People will think she has dissappeared to some hot country, but this is our vendetta.
For humanising the unhuman, Meyer must pay.