“You can put a leash on a wolf,” he said. “But you can’t ask it not to be hungry.”
Hayes: Your family has operated for centuries outside any legal framework. How do we know hunter activities haven’t violated human rights?
Von Rothenburg: [His composure cracks, voice rising with righteous indignation] We protect human rights! Everything we do serves that singular purpose. For eight hundred years, my family has stood between humanity and creatures that view you as livestock. We’ve died for this cause. We’ve sacrificed everything—our safety, our anonymity, our children’s innocence—to preserve human freedom.
[Leaning forward intensely] When a vampire “claims” someone, that person loses their free will. They become a puppet. A pet. We restore their humanity. We give them back their choice. Don’t you dare question our commitment to human rights when we’re the only thing that’s kept humanity from being farmed like cattle.
When I asked him about his nephew, Leo von Rothenburg, Stefan hesitated. For a moment, the dogma cracked.
“We miss him,” he admitted. “He was born into legacy and responsibility. He was bright.” Then he shifted. “But even the strongest minds can be compromised under the right circumstances. That is why they target people like Leo.”
“He’s not a prisoner,” I pressed.
“No,” Stefan said. “Not legally. But vampires don’t need cages. They use compulsion. That’s the real prison.”
The conversation turned darker as von Rothenburg began to reference cases, both historical and recent, where humans were allegedly “kept” by vampires, some as partners, others as “pets.”
“This is what they do,” he said. “They seduce. They feed. They keep.”
When I asked how hunters identify supernatural entities, von Rothenburg produced a small silver device from his jacket.
“Blessed silver, consecrated by Vatican specialists,” he said, activating what looked like a modified metal detector. “It reacts to supernatural presence within a fifty-foot radius. We’ve been field-testing them in major cities for the past month.”
When pressed for verification of the device’s effectiveness, von Rothenburg declined to provide technical specifications or independent testing results. No scientific studies have confirmed the functionality of such supernatural detection methods.
Hayes: The Night Court claims they want peaceful coexistence.
Von Rothenburg: [laughs grimly] Of course they do. They’ve been coexisting with us as prey for millennia. Now they want to formalize the arrangement.
“And what do you propose we do now?” I asked.
“Reclaim the sane world,” he said. “We’ve lived in balance for millennia because they stayed hidden. Now they’re walking into the light, and we’re expected to smile? To integrate? No. We need containment. Oversight. Boundaries.”
When I pointed out that the supernatural revelation in Detroit appeared to be the result of hunter actions, not a voluntary disclosure by the supernatural community, von Rothenburg’s expression hardened.
“Sometimes you have to force the truth into the open,” he said. “They would have stayed hidden forever, growing stronger, positioning themselves. We simply accelerated the inevitable.”
At no point did von Rothenburg advocate for violence. But his words carried the weight of doctrine, and his closing line was as much a warning as a promise.
As our interview concluded, von Rothenburg mentioned that hunter families across North America and Europe have been “activated” since the Detroit revelation.
“This isn’t just us,” he said, standing to leave. “This is a movement. And it’s been waiting centuries for this moment.”
When I asked how many hunters are currently active, he smiled for the first time.
“Enough,” he added as he reached the door. “More than enough.”
