The King is Dead…

This thing, this virus that infects our blood, that becomes our blood, affects each of us differently. Some are too weak to be turned. Our blood overwhelms them and they ultimately die a mortal death never to be re-born in this manner…More likely though, their resistance to this affliction is a sign of strength and their one death something purer than anything most of us could hope for.

This dark seducing power is difficult to resist and harder still to manage. I struggle to say that I am any better than those who fully embrace what they have become. Sure I try to live by a different code, but I am no different a monster. After long periods of resistance I invariably give into the thirst and feed on those I deem deserving of such an undignified end.

I know I am no different a monster because I continue to infect the lives of those I envy. I try to convince myself that this concern for their well being comes from genuine feelings of love, but this emotion is as distant as my own mortality. Certainly I have memories, but they belong to a different time, a different man.

I know I am a monster because when I look at Winston I no longer see the wondrous imperfections that made him interesting and beautiful. Between his lust for revenge and the effects of my blood there was no longer space for that man, so he became another, bearing little resemblance to his former self. Still, if he no longer cared about the things that concerned him as a mortal, he still appeared motivated by them.

He had not only defeated Marcus, he replaced him. It was an outcome no one expected. He was suddenly the head of a large group of highly efficient, loyal soucouyants, which prompted many questions. Can we co-exist with mortals, live by some pre-determined rules where we prey on only the most sinister elements of mankind…those most deserving? Murders, rapists, pedophiles, abusers, do we dare to formalize our existence? Use our Godlike abilities for a different end? This is what Winston saw as the future for this coven. Winston who now found a way, it seemed, to live with his abilities beyond cold, steady, revenge. And I who desperately needed to believe in a higher purpose for my existence listened. This was not about our place of privilege on the food chain; this was about removing those who preyed on the weak. Ironically, who would be better qualified than us? We could of used our newfound loyalty to put an end to the coven, and even ourselves, but then what? Weren’t there more of us out there waiting to ascend to this position with even more opaque agendas?

 Beyond my own questions I was uncertain that I could trust my creation, but I felt optimistic about our agenda, if I felt anything at all. Winston’s leadership represented change that did engender some sense of emotion in me, a feeling that we could attempt to turn this dark gift on its head and use it towards different ends. Marcus was no more and this I conceded, must be a good thing. The King is dead, long live the King…