Chapter 1 - The Creation of Esme

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Jeffrey Dean Morgan as El Dargon

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El Dargon's POV

I hold my three day old daughter protectively and I face my fourteen comrades. We are the Ruling Council and preside over all supernaturals on earth. Now we have to decide what to do with my daughter. As a member of the council, I know what must be done but as her father I hope my idea will sway my comrades. We'll see.

"Dargon, what on earth were you thinking?" Payne asks.

"We can all conclude that I wasn't thinking," I reply.

"Not with your head anyway," smirks Alexi.

"Seriously Alexi that's the best you can say in this situation?"

I look around at my colleagues and face them with as much bravado as I can muster. I gently rock the baby girl in my arms. Her mother died after giving birth to her three days ago and I don't know what to do with her. I had the foresight to stop at the local hospital where they cleaned, fed, and clothed her for the last two days. At least she smells better now than she did then.

As a member of the Ruling Class of all supernatural beings, one of our powers is mind control. A very dangerous power if misused. Another reason I rarely use it. Unfortunately, I needed to use that power in spades to get my daughter situated. A little mind control secured me lots of diapers, formula, clothes, and a two-day stay at the local hospital with no questions. She's okay for now.

And so here I am with my comrades, trying to find a solution to my 'tiny' and beautiful problem.

Just then as if she's aware she's the object of our debate, my daughter, let out a loud wail. She packs quite a pair of lungs I tell you. She's only a few days old, and she's already a demanding little imp. I rock her some more, trying to calm her down. When her crying increases, I do what any father will unlimited powers will do; put her in an invisible swing while we figure out what to do with her.

"Okay, this is a new thing for us, so we need to deal with it."

"It is not an 'it', Drago. 'It' is a baby, a girl." I snarl at him. Where is my anger coming from, when my plan is to give her up?

"This is exactly the reason they've since barred us from mating with humans. And why? Remember what happened to Sorenson." Drago continues.

Whenever we mention Sorenson's name, we always chant this prayer: "May his wolf forever run with his Moon goddess," as we do now. And we all bow silently in reverence to a fallen comrade.

I look at all my remaining colleagues: EL Payne, EL Kadir and I rule the witches; Original Drago, Original Lucien, Original Vlad rule the vampires; Elder Thomas, Elder Farrar, Elder Wolffang rule the werewolves; Elder Alexi, Elder Conan, Elder Sheng rule the werecats; Wein Shade, Wein Aphid, Wein Aeden rule the fates or 'others' as they are commonly known.

"And the mother? How did you dispose of her?" Asks Aeden.

"At the very least do me the courtesy of coming out of the shadows when you speak to me," I demand angrily looking in their direction.

The Weins are 'Shadows' and love to shimmer in and out, and I hate when they hold conversations while invisible. Really frustrating.

"Apologies my friend." He replies as they all shimmer into their seats.

"The mother?" he repeats.

"I had the Mystic Circle coven take care of her body and belongings. Like she never existed."

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