We Shifters had the worst luck. No matter how hard we try to stay out of supernatural messes, in the end we somehow get caught right in the middle of them. For example when those stupid vampires decided to wage war on the werewolves, shifters were forced to chose a side.
Thousands of us died in that war and I've been taught since birth to hate vampires. But its really hard to hate something that sounds like a myth. I've never seen one before, and neither have my parents...or so I thought.
In his suicide note he left me an address to go to. In a place where it always rains, is named after an eating utensil, and home to vampires and werewolves. Clearly my father wasn't in the right mind. He's practically sending me to Deaths doorstep.
But as I said earlier, everything my parents say, or write, has a deeper meaning. For some reason my stupid father trusted this vampire, or else he wouldn't be asking me to go there. He claims that these vampires are good and not like others, they drink animal blood.
It took a couple of hours to come around to the idea of going to the U.S and meeting a vampire coven. By Shifter law I should go back home and confirm to the Elders that I'm the last of the Soto family. But I have to respect my dead fathers request an do as he asks. Which means traveling many freakin miles to meet a vampire, for what reason I have no idea.
~Authors Note~
I previously posted this on mibba as bluepaperhearts. I transferred the story onto here and deleted it from there.
