Cedar Grove Town Hall smelled like stale donuts, floor wax, and civic doom.

On the emergency agenda:

Item 1: Vampire rights
Item 2: Cafeteria blood cooler funding
Item 3: A formal motion to rename the roundabout The Circle of Eternal Night, sponsored by Sev via the Harmony Café
Item 4: Public safety complaint involving a mop wielding mortal threatening everything that breathes dramatically

Jo was not in the mood. She sat in the back row next to Clorvex, who was knitting a hat labeled Team Chaos and passing out sugar packets.

Mira wore a Brew Peace button and held a thermos of serenity blend.

Matteo brought espresso shots in tiny potion bottles labeled +2 Charisma.

Sev, as acting spokesperson for Cedar Grove’s undead, stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you, council members. As vampires, we wish only to be treated with dignity, cautionary signage, and perhaps reserved parking during sun hours.”

A voice from the audience shouted, “You turned my yoga instructor into a fog!”

“That was a consensual glamor,” Sev replied.

Another shouted, “My dog’s afraid of your teeth!”

“Many are.”

The new mayor, a weary goblin named Glen, sighed and banged his gavel. “Let’s maintain order, people. We’re not like that town called Drake.”

“Thank god,” Jo muttered under breath.

The goblin mayor continued, “This is a bipartisan town. Half espresso, half enchanted tea, and now apparently immortal of the undead kind.”

Tensions were already on the rise, when a bat dive-bombed the microphone and someone hurled a gluten-free biscotti at it.

Someone asked Jo five times, “Whose side was she on?” before Jo threatened to beat them with her coffee cup.

Standing, Clorvex cleared his throat, and said, “If I may…”

Everyone groaned.

“I propose a solution. An event. A celebration even.”

Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Clorvex beamed. “Let’s bring back the Blood Orange Brew Bash.”

Jo looked skyward. “Why did we even ask?”