Life in the grove

I awoke to the traffic of the night the honking of horns, the squealing of tires. The blood courses through my vains once again.I look at myself into the bathroom mirror staring in to the lifeless husk that I am. My face is one of infamy hated among kindred and for good measure. The beast that dwells with in hungers for another challenge. Its hard to silence the craving of hunting another nothing comes close to devouring the soul of another. The bed stired in the next room of his current meal from last night laid there sleeping. I hate it here the grove is no place for me but the hunters keep the anarchy that I need to stay alive less the hunters move then I will be killed by the bishop and his hounds. Heathens he called me a man who followed his own path is called into question because I have no faith in the man that was staked to a cross. I have faith in other things and that makes me a heathan. I finally get dressed and my breakfast is sturing. I walk into the bedroom where she laid "darling are you ready for breakfast in bed?" I fed from her and she screamed in ecstasy but that ecstasy seemed to fade her body began to fall to sleep as did her desire to fight. It was more profitable to keep poeple alive and feed for days than to kill. Also it keeped the hunters at bay so no one came looking they would wake and do the walk of shame to there home but I would always keep tabs just in case i could eat again which wasn't often for my study's in the coils has blessed me for complete flow.the woman thay laid in my bed was sleeping soundly again I moved to the kitchen to make her her breakfast, You cant just eat and leave the smell woke her up as the food was left on the table with a note "my dearest Clare, I had to go to work I Cooked you breakfast as a apology eat your fill and don't worry I already ate. Your dark lover C" the note was his typical exit for her I had other ways of exiting but this was hurs I left the ways of the sewers like a rat in a mase luckly her apartment wasnt far from my haven i was hidden behind a false wall i constructed. As i entered the location the sent of cinnamon from the candles the only way to block out the putred stench of the world outside. Home here I can rest my worry for only gouled workers knew of this place and those workers have sence been devoured. I look at my hovel and remember the times in the villa and the words of the kindred that burned it how they looked down on me calling me a heathan. im not a wichdoctor or a Satanist just a man with a different faith, the church shall pay for its blind judgement I will bring them to there knees one way or another.