My Little Ventrue Ch. 11

The tall Ventrue glanced between the group of them before offering a nod. "Alder Viktor Honors was my sire... and despite that, I agree, we are all better for his passing. I understand your feelings, Prince."

Garry gave another chuckle, and Jacob right along with him. Antoinette could tell those two had more in common than they realized. But then, the two exchanged a quick glance. A tiny thing, just as subtle as any of them. What sort of dealings had those two shared beyond the ones she knew? Her sheriff could find out later.

Julias's glance though, was on her, and it was not a quick one. His gaze lingered on her, met her eyes, and when she looked back at him, the young Kindred did not break. The other four had started talking about the pressing matters at hand, such as the fallout of Tony being dead and his followers now leaderless, but Julias did not join them. He continued to look at her, and as the seconds grew, his eyes were unwavering.

Evidently, Daniel had delivered her message about Jack.

She gave him a nod of her own. Jack was not a topic for the primogen, and the less they knew about her relationship with the boy, the better. But Julias was the boy's sire, and he deserved to know she recognized that.

The two of them, she and the Ventrue, were most definitely going to have to talk.

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~~Jack~~

There was some time before he had to get back to Elysium, so he could spend the day sleeping with Antoinette.

He couldn't stop grinning. Sleeping with Antoinette. Sleeping. Antoinette. God damn he was sleeping with Antoinette. Not just the Prince, but Antoinette. Curvy, tall, busty, smooth and classy and sexy and gorgeous and beautiful Antoinette. Scary, dangerous, smart, witty, terrifyingly powerful and even manipulative Antoinette. It was all so mesmerizing.

He almost twirled while waiting for the elevator. The ding of its arrival was enough to shock him out of his high though. He was here to see Julias, and as much as he was high on bliss, he did not look forward to explaining to his sire what had happened. It'd taken him some time to work up the nerve to come here, hours even. Antoinette had meetings for much of the night, and instead of just waiting for her in her bed, he got up and started wandering around the city dreading this conversation with his sire.

When he stepped onto the elevator and watched the doors close, the weight of realizations crashed into him. The last time he was on this elevator, it was to talk to Julias about his sister, but that conversation never happened. He wanted to talk about how horrible that fucking felt, and how that and Mrs. Pavala and everything about his actions were crushing him. Then there was Viktor, who he'd killed. His grandsire. And then there was Antoinette, who he was spending more and more time with, while spending less and less with the man who he owed everything to.

When the doors opened up again, he froze. What was he supposed to say? How was he going to say it? Oh, sorry Julias, I killed your sire, and shit has been kind of rough for me, but I'm sleeping with the Prince now so everything is good?

Fuck it. He knocked. Since being embraced, he'd taken to just walking into Julias's, but now he had to knock; the door was a literal and figurative barrier. What would Antoinette say? How droll.

When it opened, he suddenly found himself looking at the floor. He could see Julias's shoes. Such nice shoes.

"Jack! Kid, I am damn glad to see you... why the knock?"

"Julias, I... man, I...."

"Jack? What's the problem?" His sire put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into the room.

Jack managed a glance around. Same place but it felt so damn different. Julias apparently caught onto his unease, and ushered him over to the couch to sit down.

"You ok Jack? When we got separated, everything went downhill and I had to take care of Rebecca."

Rebecca. The memory of that bitch stabbing him was like scar tissue on his brain. "Did you get her?"

"Indeed I did." Julias gave him a light punch in the arm. Where'd he pick up that quirk? "She's dead. Soon as she was ash, everything suddenly caught fire though. I tried to get to you, but Beatrice—"

"The Nosferatu was there?"

"Yeah. She was the one who actually killed Rebecca. But don't tell anyone, no need to get her involved."

Jack gave a small nod. He'd definitely have to thank shark-mouth.

"You were in that warehouse with Viktor, and Tony I assume. What happened? That fire just exploded and took out half the district."

Antoinette said Julias would not be angry that he'd killed Viktor, but it wasn't the same as being in front of the man and actually having to say it.

"I... set the fire."

"You did what? Fucking Christ Jack, a day after I showed you what fire does! Someone like Viktor might—"

"That was why."

"That was why? You...."

Jack looked up from the floor just long enough to see the realization dawn on Julias's face.

"I said the wrong thing. When the two of them were arguing, Viktor said something about becoming Prince, and I said I didn't want him to hurt Antoinette. And Viktor just... he just lost it. He cut me nearly in half, and... then and Tony and him started fighting, and... and I had to do something, and...."

Silence. When Jack managed another peak, Julias was sitting in the exact same position as him, elbows on his knees and head hanging on slouched shoulders.

"You killed Viktor then."

"... yeah."

"Tony too?"

"Pretty sure, yeah...."

More silence. His sire must have been thinking. He'd raised a hand to hold his chin, but his face was pained.

"Then... I am sorry Jack."

"You? Sorry? I killed your sire Julias."

"Only because I was putting it off."

Jack raised his head. "Really?"

Julias copied the motion. "Viktor was... he needed to die. He was...." His voice caught in his throat, and he coughed it out as he leaned back. "Shit, everyone was looking for Viktor to die. More than one Invictus wanted him dead, and they were looking to me to do it. He was old, his last torpor had twisted him, and his bloodlust was growing beyond what human blood would satisfy."

"Antoinette said that too. Kindred can drink other Kindred blood?"

Julias grabbed him on the shoulder, and both squeezed and twisted him hard enough to hurt and face him. "Never do it. Ever. That's why I was so worried about Antoinette and you, cause she had so many opportunities to slip you her blood, and then you'd...." The pain on his face was enough that Jack felt it on him. "You become addicted to Kindred blood, and at the same time, you become enamored with whose blood you drank. Drink it a few times, and you become so unbelievably infatuated, you'd put Romeo and Juliet to shame."

"But... but Viktor-"

"That changes when you're so old, so powerful, that kine blood just isn't enough anymore. Then Kindred just become your new food source, and Viktor was fast approaching that day."

Jack ran his fingers over his buzzed head. "Fuck. So someone could just slip me their blood and... fuck, Antoinette could have done that easily. Shit, Antoinette is older than Viktor! She could already be past that day."

Julias's grip relaxed. "Dolareido is lucky to have Antoinette as its Prince. Dragons are fucking mysterious, and one mystery they have is they manage torpor very well; her last torpor quelled her blood lust very well. And much as I hate having a Dragon as Prince, and a Daeva at that, the Prince is damn smart, and... stable." He managed a sad chuckle, and braced his face with his hand. "If Viktor was Prince, he'd have turned it into a dictatorship. And they never last."

"Fuck, he sounds like a monster."

"... Give it a couple hundred years, Jack." His sire got up then, went around the counter, and started to pour them both some glasses of blood. "Put yourself in my position, and me in Viktor's. Could you do it?"

"No... no I couldn't. God damn it Julias, I'm sorry I-"

"It's all for the best, Jack. I'm just... I couldn't bring myself to think my old sire had fallen so far, and I left you in his protection. You came out on top though, and that's why I sired you. Tenacious kid." He took a sip, and the sorrow mostly faded from his old gaze. "I'm damn proud you've come so far in such a small amount of time, even if it paints a bullseye on your back. But you got friends in high places now, and not just the Prince."

"Not just the prince?"

"The council has asked me to replace Viktor on the triumvirate."

"Damn dude! Wow, holy shit what a promotion. Fucking... like... I don't even know. What's that change for us?" He hopped up off the couch and jumped onto a stool by the counter. The conversation had quickly turned from sobering to joyful, and that was a fucking awesome change.

"Now," the tall Ventrue said as he slid Jack a drink, "we make the changes."

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~Beatrice~

The catacombs seemed more empty than usual.

Of course, the catacombs of the old cemetery were always empty. Not even the stupid punk kids showed up to vandalize it anymore with graffiti, not after she was through with them. Still, it really did seem more empty than usual. The other Kindred didn't hang out there, they knew it was her hangout, and the only Kindred old enough to give her trouble didn't give a shit about some nasty old catacombs.

The only reason it felt empty was because she wasn't used to it anymore. She stood there, leaning against a shelf of rock, covered in skulls, and she marveled at them. Dolareido practically belonged in France; the joys of having an ancient French Daeva as the city's Prince. Normally she enjoyed the hilariously edgy, brooding nature of a catacomb deep in the dark, spooky cemetery of the city, but it was just so damn empty. She'd gotten used to hanging out with Julias. That was the problem.

Problem? She grinned to no one. It wasn't a problem. Sure, she was a Nosferatu and that meant she'd never be able to hang with the kine, not openly, but if hanging out with Julias taught her at least one thing, it was to not judge a Kindred too quickly. Maybe she should start hanging with the other Carthians more? Hell, maybe she should hang at the Elysium more? All the neonates like her hung out there regularly. No ancillae or elders to scare them; they all had more important business.

She clicked her teeth together, and dragged her claws carelessly along the stone walls in the dark. "Would it be so bad to make some friends?"

"A friend you can trust is worth any hell."

She spun around with such panic, her claws cut through the stone and sent bones flying. Someone was in the tomb with her. Some dude she couldn't smell or see.

"The fuck! Who the fuck is there?" The darkness held no secrets from a Kindred. She crouched down, claws drawn, and crept forward through the black. No one waited for her, no presence, no smell, but then she could hear a chuckle. Whoever this fucker was was laughing at her.

"The fuck do you think you're doing? Nosferatu, Mehket? Hiding in the shadow? Come on out so I can rip your fucking face off." Big words, Triss. If she couldn't find them, then they weren't a pushover. Whoever was in her lair was a master of the shadow disciplines; she couldn't even smell him.

"I understand you tore Rebecca apart. I find that impressive."

She spun around again. The bastard had gotten around behind her, but still she couldn't see anyone. "Fuck you! No one else was there, so how would you know?"

"Garry told me."

"Garry... how the fuck do you know Garry?" Last time she'd tell her boss a damn thing.

"You heard us talking."

Talking. She'd heard them talking? "... on the roof, after Tony gave Mike the shit to crack."

"Well aren't you smart." Another chuckle.

"So Garry wasn't just talking to himself." Secrets on top of secrets. Fucking Kindred. Even Garry was playing that stupid game. "So who the fuck are you then?"

And yet another chuckle. "Guess?"

Guess, right. Fuck him. Still, some knowledge was better than none. It was a man's voice, and the only dude Mehket she knew powerful enough pull this in-your-face shadow shit was Daniel. And the sheriff didn't strike her as the playful type, unlike this fucker who was taunting her.

That meant a Nosferatu, a powerful one, and if it wasn't Maria then it was...

"... Jacob."

"Bingo."

Shit shit shit shit shit shit. She started to back up away from the voice, but then his Joker laugh started up behind her. This time, there was something there, someone wrapped in a dirty old cloak. Someone with a bandage wrapped around his eyes. The old Witch was eyeless, one of the more fucked up Nosferatu deformities, and how he managed to get around she had no idea.

But he was there, arms and legs hidden inside his cloak, eyes covered, and walking toward her with a smirk. His hood was pulled back, and his grey and black hair looked so very odd on a Kindred. Vampires rarely sired someone older than in the prime of their youth. He even had a couple wrinkles.

"Get the fuck out of my hideout." Hollow words, her inner-beast was practically frozen in fear. Hell, she'd be pissing herself if she was kine. Jacob was as old as the fucking Prince. Older.

"Make me." He took a step forward toward her.

So she took a swing at him. No thought to it, no considering the ramifications, no worries or that too-many-mind bullshit. No one got to just fuck with her, elder or not.

Jacob fell apart like black mist. Even her Kindred eyes could not follow it in the black, and it wormed around in the dust and bones of the abandoned catacombs like something out of a god damn Dracula movie. That was not a trick innate to Nosferatu blood.

"Oh ho ho ho, Garry was right about you."

"Did you just fucking laugh at me like some comic book villain? Hold still so I can—"

And then Jacob had his hands around her wrists. He was behind her, his grip was insane, and it felt like her arms were going to get ripped out of her shoulders. It didn't get any better when a foot was planted between her shoulder blades, and her body was driven into the stone earth. The crunch of a ruined nose was a warning sign before the pain hit her too.

"You are a fierce creature. I like that." He pulled on her arms more, more things went pop, and she screamed.

"Fuck you! Fuck you and let go so I can kill you you fucking god damn fucking stupid—"

"I came here to test your spirit, Beatrice. You may have noticed that Dolareido is a nice place, with little Kindred conflict, especially now. And you know? I'm starting to get bored."

Oh my god the fucker was going to talk her death. She'd rather he just rip her arms off.

"So, I came here to make an offer."

"Offer... and if I say no?"

"You won't say no. Why? Because I can tell just by looking at you neonate, that you're sick of the mind games of these elder Kindred and their bullshit. You're sick of the century-old games, and how these old tigers are playing you all like puppets for their own benefit. Even Garry, barely an elder, is already playing those games, and you fucking know it. He risked Mike's life for it. And you? You are sick of being on the sidelines. So excuse my ranting," he pulled harder on her arms again and coaxed more screams from her, "but I know an opportunity when I see one."

He let go, thank fucking god. She rolled over, and forced her hands up to grab her shoulders. Kindred blood quickly got to work, forcing undead tissue tight and making sure her joints were aligned. But she wouldn't let herself stay exposed, undefended, not with this nutjob standing over her. She started to get up, expecting to get pinned again, but Jacob just watched her with that stupid, weird, goofy smile.

"Opportunity?"

"To put a little chaos into their plans, Beatrice. To put the tigers back on the front lines, so they're the ones that take the heat for their stupid, god damn plans, like I did with Viktor and Tony."

Oh fucking shit.

"Garry, Michael, Maria, Antoinette," he said, "and the others. Instead of just letting these fuckers play puppeteer, how about we sew a little chaos in their bullshit?" The fucking ancient Nosferatu witch was disturbingly persuasive.

"Wait. Others?"

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~~Damien~~

All the kine were walking around with their handhelds and their smartphones and their bluetooth devices. Not only that, most of them were wearing revealing clothing designed to function in the cool air. Winter was approaching, and Dolareido wasn't very far North, but it wasn't exactly warm either. Despite that, the kine were whoring themselves out on the streets. High-class hookers and dealers in ties. A den of sin and decay.

"Look at this, Damien. Look at these kine. Have I been gone so long? Fifty years of sleep and the world changed above me." Damien's sire, a quiet man with brown skin and short, curly black hair sat on a bus bench. "It is good you awoke me when you did. The technology alone is... I cannot understand it."

Damien was sitting next to him, with a half-shaved head, and waves of black hair combed over that reached down to his shoulder. His sire was dressed in some simple black robe, while Damien was in jeans and a snazzy jacket. What an odd couple, but that was the times. Damien had the luxury to acclimate and adjust over the years. His sire did not.

"Times have changed," Damien said. "They still change. Even those born in this twilight of science and blasphemy can't keep up. And after what the Prince did, the churches here have become passive, empty."

Lucas reached out and gave him a strong pat on the shoulder. "Antoinette did what she thought was best for the city. Painful as it is to say, there is peace here."

"The peace of gluttony, and sloth."

"Ha! Well said." Again his sire gave him a pat on the back. "It is true. These kine need the fear of God in them. But first, we must put the fear of the Lancea et Sanctum into the Kindred."

"With Viktor Honors dead, the Invictus may not be our ally this time, Archbishop."

"But if Tony is dead, as you say he is, then there is a flock out there, Damien. They need a shepherd. Do you know where that devil slept?"

"I do."

Lucas gave a curt nod, stood up, and closed his bible with a loud, resounding thud, as if the walls of the church surrounded them once more. "Then come, and let us be the harbingers of a grand reckoning."