Edited Woke Culture

Chapter 12- Lust Coven

After slowly making our way from St. Louis to Washington, having only killed a couple dozen vampires, California was reluctant to let me leave. "Promise me you'll continue our work," he urged me the day before we were planning on making it back to Kent.

"I promise," I emptily promised. The truth was I had no clue if I wanted to end supernatural culture on Earth, for I knew that if vampiric numbers got too low, I would become the hunter and no longer the hunter.

"I mean it," he scorned me, perhaps he saw through me and knew I was insincere and not genuine. "We are an abomination. We shouldn't exist."

"Then why were you so eager to become one?" I harshly quizzed, not letting him get the best of me.

"I needed the athleticism to kill other supernatural beings. If I was already athletic enough, I wouldn't have agreed to hunt vampires with you. I would have killed you. Being a vampire was only a means to an end. Once I kill every last vampire, I will stake myself in the heart and go to hell, where we all belong," he boldly claimed.

"You're going to get your cultists killed," I argued, knowing he had a point, for it was my intention as well in the beginning. But lately, I had been thinking I could preserve a few vampires, and we could rule the world as a sort of undying oligarchy.

"They know the risks well," he replied, "I don't hide the truth from them. I have blatantly shared that they are risking their lives— that even knowing about the supernatural can get them killed. I didn't compel a single one of them. They are all here on their own volition. That's better than you can say," he bragged.

"You think I compelled Jacob and Edward? Are you too stupid to realize you can't compel other vampires?" I mocked.

"They don't trust you," he argued, and he did have a point. I knew their loyalty to me was very conditional.

"And you suppose your filthy humans wouldn't stake you in the heart of you dropped your guard?" I snapped, "you are a vampire! They want to kill vampires. You will soon be on their chopping block. The moment you become less than useful to them, they will just as easily kill you as they've killed dozens of others. You really think they haven't thought about it already? Are you so daft?"

"When my time comes, I will embrace death," California boldly said.

I decided to turn up the music to drown out California's voice. He was still talking, but I couldn't hear him over Adele's new album. I didn't care what he said. I was right and he was wrong.

After we arrived in Kent, California, who had been driving the whole time, let me out of the car. Jacob and Edward were on motorcycles directly behind us. And the rest of California's cult members were already on their way to Seattle, where we'd heard there was recently several "bear attacks" just outside the city limits.

California would drop me off at my new home. It was the first time I'd seen it. Previously, I had only had an image in my mind based off the blueprints.

It was a masterpiece. As specified, there were 26 floors, counting the basement. My new home even put the Buckingham Palace to shame. It may have even been as nice as the Sultan of Brunei's illustrious home, although it wasn't plated in gold as his apparently was.

Pulling up, we met with the contractor who was responsible for overseeing the construction of my massive Victorian home. He was eager to give me the keys, mostly because he had been waiting there a full hour for us, because we were a bit behind schedule, because California needed to feed, having not fed in several weeks.

California thought he was better than me because he fed less often, but really, I fed to keep my strength. We never knew when we could hit a dry spell. And having determined I could only go two weeks without feeding before I got stiffness, I thought it was best to feed at least once a day. But the self-righteous former gang member thought it a crime to feed, even if we didn't kill the victim and erased their memories of the attack. He stood on a much higher moral plain than I did.