Chapter 2

Chapter 2 has us meet two new characters; a male Bloodthief, and the popular writer Blanca.

Crest despised Feara. He knew she hated what she was, and that she hated everyone around her, including him.

She had no idea the power Wolf had given her. Instead of helping them rise to greatness, she was pitying the poor humans she devoured.

Fool, he thought. She was lucky she did what she was told, or he’d do something about her. Wolf would let him, too. He knew he was Wolf’s favorite of his small army of Bloodthieves.

Unlike Feara, he embraced the fact he was a monster. It gave him power. It made him almost invincible, and to the humans who didn’t know his weakness, he was invincible. He didn’t care that he killed people. He couldn’t wait until his next feeding.

The humans had no idea what was coming, and it made him well up with a dark happiness, knowing that he would be apart of the genocide. He could hardly wait to hear the screams of fear as the terrified humans began to catch on. He wanted to feel their despair when they realized they couldn’t escape.

Just thinking about it made him antsy in his seat.

Couldn’t this plane go any faster?

But it didn’t matter. He had strict instructions to feed as secretly as possible until Legion’s ‘delivery’ arrived. Then he could commence the terror among the small town.

He grinned, allowing for his teeth to change shape and sharpen into gleaming fangs.

He was already hungry.

The quiet co-pilot looked back at him, keeping a nervous watch on Crest.

Wolf wouldn’t mind if he had a mid-flight snack, right?

***

Blanca loved her job, and loved where she lived. Life really couldn’t be any better for her.

Well, she wished she were a slightly more prominent author, but she was working on that.

Her favorite part of her job was that she didn’t really have to go anywhere. She could sit in this beautiful park and write for as long as she wanted, and not feel the need to have to be somewhere.

Since her boyfriend had broken up with her (over the fact that she spent so much time writing her books and not spending time with him), she really had no attachments to anything other than her books.

Sure, she had friends, but it was mostly to ease the mind of her mother, who believed her daughter was too solitary and concerned for her well-being.

Her mother just didn’t understand. She wasn’t antisocial, she just preferred the company of her books, and her characters. They would never break up with her, or be mean to her, or leave her for any reason.

She did realize, of course, she couldn’t live with the sole accompaniment of her creations, and so she did go out with friends, just every now and then, to have a drink, to watch a movie. They’d even taken a week to go skiing (which happened to be Blanca’s other favorite hobby besides writing).

Now that winter was coming up fast, she’d spend more time skiing and less time writing, both to ease her mother’s mind and to take a break from her near constant work (because even when you love something, breaks are necessary).

Living in Clearview, Minnesota was the absolute perfect place for her. In the summer, it was delightfully sunny and often a very mild temperature, making it the best time to venture out to the park for some writing. In the winter, the snowy mountains were a mere half-an-hour drive away for some skiing and snowball fights. As well, she found it comforting in the winter to sit in front of the television with a cup of hot cocoa and write.

As for her social status in Clearview, it was great. She was well-known among the small population, and so had her own tiny fan-base right where she lived, along with thousands of fans outside clamoring for her next release. It made her absolutely full of glee that she had so many people who loved her, even ones she hadn’t, and probably would never, meet.

It was somewhat ironic-sounding to her mother that she had this view of her fans, considering she seemed so anti-social, but Blanca had to constantly argue and prove to her that this was not the case. Blanca saw it as proof of her companionable impulses that she loved her fan-base and did not shy away from the attention.

Yet still her mother pestered her.

As she finished the last sentence of her book’s final chapter, she noticed a strange noise, getting louder every second.

She looked up through the tree’s of the park to see a small plane of some sort traveling across the sky.

That’s strange, she thought. There were no airports around Clearview (the closest one a good 4 hours in the opposite direction the plane was heading), and she’d never really seen any plane pass over Clearview before, save for a very small of number of flights from Canada to the faraway airport.

Still, it didn’t seem suspicious. It appeared to be a private jet. Probably some rich person making their way to Canada.

She continued writing.

Author's Note

Not been edited, if you see something, go ahead and point it out :)