Chapter Three: Seeing is Ben-Ethan

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Enjoy this chapter :) (it's 9k words lol)

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(Present day: September 4th, 2012)

7:30pm, Tuesday

After the explosion, weeks of searching for Rory and Erica and killing Anastasia, Jesse was done. He couldn't find the emerald for months; it was ultimately useless. His anger worsened, and so did his sickness. That stranger, Easton Rune, was nowhere to be seen... They vanished when Jesse needed the emerald most. It's been months since he lost that rune, and quite frankly, he was fed up with all the loose ends he's been getting. Still, he was stubborn about achieving what he wanted.

"That's not how that works, idiot!" That was Jesse. After the Fang gang reunited and left Blackchapel, he stayed to steal what Anastasia started. He didn't want Russia, no. Jesse wanted Blackchapel to become Black's Chapel like Whitechapel was once his terrain. Control and power. Like I told you.

So, now, he's a founding cult leader of The Black Fang. "The Bulgarian Chalice should be placed in the center of the table near the fruits, NOT at the end of it!" He shook his head as one of his new minions kept messing up the placement of the decorations. Jesse had a red handkerchief in his pocket when he coughed or spat out oozing blood. He still hadn't told Ethan why he was like this, but everyone already knew he was dying. Ethan, you fucking snitch. Ahem.

In fact, he hasn't been in contact with the seer in a while, not after they went their separate ways. Jesse had growled at him when Ethan kept bugging him about his condition. "Why are you spitting out blood? Do vampires get sick? What happened in the cubile animus?" Stuff like that. Sure, Jesse could've told him the truth, but why should he trust him, a human above all else? Because he gave him a second chance and saved him from Anastasia's henchmen? Jesse Black does not need pity or sympathy if all Jesse does is sin. Alright. He had let his guard down near Sarah, but he remained vigilant. He would never admit this: She is his weakness. That vampire is many things, yes, and right now, he's what Earth kids would say, "Close to losing his shit."

"Like this, sir?" A blonde henchman asked sheepishly. His broad shoulders slumped in embarrassment, and he quickly looked away, blushing. "Yes, exactly. Good. You ARE competent, after all." Jesse calmly replied with a smirk. That was a first in a while. Even so, that was backhanded. No matter how many times he hires a lost vampire to do his bidding, they most likely stay loyal to him until they're killed and sent to limbo. He never cared for them when they died; it didn't affect his goal. A vampire may be respected by him only if said vampire has a title. For Sarah, it was the title of 'girlfriend'.

He had returned to where Anastasia's hide-out once was and reshaped it into his new cult following. Jesse realized Sarah would never get back with him, ever. He had finally accepted that. He had no reason to go back anymore. No reason at all.

Jesse admired his banquet hall as his minions moved furniture to his liking and smirked. Red and black silky banners with the logo of a fang hung up near the entrance to the hide-out, matching the rugged red carpet and black tinted windows. That was, after all, the cult's official colors. "Edward, Please refrain from juggling the fruits. We're having guests over. They'll eat those."

"Sorry, sir. It's just.." Edward smiled softly in thought. "I used to be in a circus-"

"And I don't care! Stop juggling and start moving the chairs! Do you see Krissy juggling? HUH? MOVE. YOUR. ASS! This dinner is important!"

Edward expressed a sad frown as his shoulders slumped back into a hunched position; he sadly set the fruits back into the bowl and quietly left the room. Jesse watched him go and rolled his eyes, dismissing his henchman's feelings. He shook his head and stared at the ceiling, his pale hands covering his face as he began to scream out in frustration. Jesse removed his hands from his face and jumped up and down(Like a child), stomping his feet hatefully, which scared the other vampires. He shouted curse words and grunts as he stomped and stomped. "FUCKING SHIT, FUCK! IDIOTS!" He exclaimed at the top of his lungs as his crew watched him have a childish tantrum.

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