My Little Ventrue Pt. 03 Ch. 04

"People... they're uh... looking at us."

"Let them look. This will take but a moment."

She didn't necessarily wish to indulge in exhibitionism like many Kindred did, but a little taste every once in a while was fine, and it was a first for Jack.

She blew him a little kiss, and lowered her head down to his shaft. His went rigid, no doubt surprised, and she smirked as she put her lips to his cock while enabling her blush. His body full of fresh blood, his blush had already begun, and she was free to begin milking her love. A little moistness to help expose the ripe, swollen head of his shaft, and then her lips found it all. Her tongue caressed along the base edge of the bulbous tip, and lapped up the precum already forming. Her story had aroused her love greatly.

He was squirming. Poor boy. She smiled around his shaft, and worked faster, stroking the base of him harder while suckling, pulling, kissing the tip. More precum spread along her tongue, and she worked it along the engorged flesh filling her mouth. It must have been quite the sight for anyone who decided to watch, the taller woman giving a blowjob behind the booth table to the small man. And his facial expressions must have been delicious.

He started to pant, his cock started to flex in her mouth, and a moment later, his cum started to flood her. She drank it down, and slid her lips back and forth along the edge of his glans between each spurt, driving him close to painful stimulation but never reaching it. Perfect for encouraging his groans, his twitching, and milking every last drop of cum from his length.

She sat up, adjusted her hair, wiped her lips with a finger, and kissed her love on the cheek.

"Far be it from me to tempt you with tales of sex with the kine, and then leave you aroused, surrounded by kine." She pat her finger on his cheek. "While other Kindred will indulge sex with kine in ridiculous excess, I hope I can keep you satisfied."

"I... oh god, you do! But, I mean, even if you didn't... I wouldn't do something like that. Never without you."

"You would not, I know." And it was true. He would not, her little Ventrue, honest to a fault. She loved him for it. "Now, fix your jeans, and let us be off."

Alas, she had trouble to squelch. So, she leaned in, kissed the boy's lips, and motioned them toward the exist. A smile and a nod later, the two stood up, and began to walk out of Bloodlust.

"She going to be ok?" he said while gesturing to the unconscious woman in the booth.

"She will awake in several hours, and with the amount of people nearby, she will be fine. Come." A hand on her lover's back, the two stepped out into the street. "I am sorry Jack, but I must go."

"Go?"

"Indeed. Daniel has requested my aid, and my duties cannot be squandered." Much of her time that had once been spent plotting, scheming, was now spent with Jack. While her joy in her unlife had increased dramatically, so too had its risks with her neglecting her role. Lucas's kamikaze attack on her tower had been a perfect example.

Kindred did not kamikaze. That was simply not a thing they did. Kindred fought, manipulated, controlled, built, and conspired to gain every advantage they could in insuring their second life, their food sources, their power. Not in five hundred years of her embrace had she ever seen such an absurdity from a vampire! She was a fool for thinking it an impossibility though. And now that she had her precious Jack to protect as well, she would have to make changes. A vault in her tower that could protect herself was no longer sufficient. She had to be proactive once more.

And that meant dealing with Azamel, now. One of many things she would have to do sooner rather than later.

"I have been eating up a lot of your time, haven't I?" he said.

"Oui, but that is my burden to bear, little Ventrue, not yours. I would love to talk more, but I must go. Shall I see you in a few days?"

"Unless the Invictus tie me up and pin me with a job, a few days it is."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Antoinette and her sheriff walked down into the subway tunnels of her city. It had been some time since she had walked these tunnels herself. Not since during the purge had she run their lengths, hunting and killing the bishops, searching high and low for Lucas so she could rip his insides out through his mouth. But the labyrinth of tunnels had grown into its own city for its size; and the city had cockroaches.

Not the Nosferatu, they were not the insects that plagued the undercity. Poor unfortunate souls. When they saw her and her sheriff, they disappeared into shadows and other tunnels, some giving a gasp of shock at the unexpected visit. There were perhaps thirty, maybe forty Nosferatu who chose to live their second lives in the tunnels of her city, the ones with extreme deformities, and she gladly let them. Other Nosferatu, ones with smaller deformities, or ones strong enough to hide themselves in plain sight, walked the streets of Dolareido, but down in the tunnels, the rest of their brethren lived.

But, as Maria showed, you could work past your deformities, and become something more, with time.

Her mind wandered, and she could not help it. How rare it was to be on an outing with her sheriff anymore; quite rare, since her fingers had grown long and rooted into the corporations of her city. Xnomina did not know which corporations she controlled, which banks, which facilities, which companies, and they did not know which kine she had enthralled into her service. Many services did her bidding, some willingly, some not, some unknowingly. During the purge, she had brought hundreds of kine to her side, police officers in particular, armed and ready to fight the Lancea et Sanctum at her whim.

And they did fight. And it had been bloody. Many kine had died, as many as Kindred, and in the end, such souls were mere sheep lost in the crossfire.

Would Jack think her cruel, if she indulged him such secrets? Would he look at her the same way if she explained that there were dozens of kine in the city enthralled in her spell, serving her, risking their lives? Well, few lives risked since the purge. But that did not mean her kine were so lucky as to escape notice from spying Invictus or Carthian eyes on occasion. Some had lost limbs or kneecaps in such dealings. All for her.

She did not normally feel guilt. An antiquated emotion for an elder. And yet with Jack, with his terribly honest soul, she did feel it when her thoughts drifted toward her role as Prince. How—

"Annie?"

"Ah. Apologies, my friend. You were saying?"

Daniel raised a brow, barely, before he pointed his small flashlight down toward the older tunnels.

"Athalia said Azamel would be hanging out at the stage beneath Morning Street." A flick of the wrist lit the tunnel. "This way."

She turned and followed beside him. The stage was one of the earlier, deeper areas Viktor had built, a place where he could speak over a crowd when he wanted, before the Kindred had found ways to stay above ground in Dolareido.

A smile forced its way onto her lips. There was a time when she, Viktor, Tony, her lovely Daniel, and Jacob had sat around in a tunnel they had dug underneath the village, and talked of their vision. A city where Kindred could live in peace, and where the very city itself allowed for vampires to feed and rest without fear of the sun or dangerous hunts. Where kine would gather en masse and crane their necks for them. A new era for a new world in America, where Kindred could live long lives filled with vice and delights and where violence was unnecessary.

Such fools they'd been. Successful, but with each success, their paranoia of each other grew. Battles were fought, skirmishes at first, but sometimes full on war between two covenants. Lucas's arrival had not helped.

Sighing, she shook her head, combed back her hair, and dusted off the sleeves of her suit. She had changed her clothes; she could not visit Azamel wearing a dress meant for a night out on the town, after all.

The stage was actually a large room of concrete with little in the way of... anything, except for connecting tunnels, and a few light sources that were ancient. But the Invictus and Antoinette did like to keep the tunnels maintained to some degree, so such lights were replaced when they broke. A fact Azamel and other cockroaches liked to exploit.

And sure enough, there she sat on the raised platform. It stood a foot off the concrete floor, a slab of yet more concrete, a literal stage for the room. And while before there had been nothing, Azamel had decided to decorate much of the room like a cottage in the 1800's. The woman had confidence, Antoinette had to admit that. And nerve.

She was a small woman, very old, with wrinkled white skin hanging off her face and arms. Skinny and frail. It was hard to see her eyes, partially closed with age, and her long silver hair was thin.

So much older than the last time they had spoke.

"Time," Azamel said, voice quiet and filled with rasp and groan, "is not as kind to us as it is to the vampire."

"No, it is not." Antoinette stepped up onto the stage and stood before the small woman. She sat in a recliner, one with red and blue flowers, and covered in a horrible, horrible shade of green. The sort of chair you might expect to find in your grandmother's house, with an ashtray on the arm, and cigarette burns along the cushion. Underneath her was a rug, a circular thing with color patterns of maroon, brown, and olive.

"But, I should be happy with what I have done with my time. For over two hundred years I have lived; I should be content. Shouldn't I?"

Antoinette glanced toward Daniel, who returned it with a small shrug while adjusting his glasses.

"We did not part on the best of terms, Azamel," Antoinette said. "Why have you returned?"

The old woman looked up to her left and right.

"You know Athalia, yes?" Azamal gestured to the woman on her right.

Athalia nodded to them, arms folded across her chest, eyes heavy and the hint of a frown on her lips. A slender woman, somewhat tall, with a soft face that did not match her steel gaze. Black skin and long black hair that reached her hips, with some baby blue jeans and a nice white sweater.

"We've met." Daniel nodded her way, and offered a tiny smile that lasted only moments.

There was a small spark there, Antoinette knew. Athalia had showed up a couple decades ago, when the change had struck her. The Begotten often had no one when it happened, and through sheer dumb luck, Daniel had stumbled upon her. Friends for only a short time before friction ruined the friendship.

"This is Mark." Azamel gestured to the man on her left.

Another with dark skin, though his hair was curly and cut short, tapered, with a clean-shaven face and a harder glare than Athalia could muster. But where Athalia looked to be in good shape, Mark was overweight, but with a decent amount of muscle to go with it. He too was in jeans and a white shirt, forgettable.

He didn't feel forgettable. Antoinette found her eyes lingering on the Begotten, and despite herself, she frowned. She did not like him. Being near him made her skin crawl, and she could not tell why.

The three beasts before her all made her skin crawl and her inner beast growl and posture. But Mark made her take a small step back, for fear he might touch her.

"Athalia is welcome in the city," she said, "and if Mark has lived here and managed to not cause issues despite his condition, then he is as well. But you Azamel, you are not welcome. You cause trouble every time you stay within my walls. My walls." Antoinette took a step toward the old woman, and glared down at her, even as she felt a little bit of ice run down her spine. "Why are you here?"

"I seek my inheritance."

"... your inheritance?" She looked over her shoulder to Daniel, but he offered nothing more than his usual deadpan gaze.

"It is not something you would understand, but know that I plan to seek it here, within your walls." Azamel smiled, and leaned back into her grandmother's chair.

"You try my patience, Azamel. Do you not think I will force you out?"

"Why would you? You did not banish me from your city, only expressed a strong dislike to my presence. Are you escalating your claim?"

Antoinette grit her teeth. She did not want to fight Azamel. A fight with a Begotten would not end well for anyone involved, and the old woman was not incorrect, Antoinette had not banished her.

Maybe she should have, instead of risking the trouble her kind could bring.

"You have requested my presence, Azamel, as you squat in the underbelly of my city, knowing full well I do not want you here. You try my patience."

The old woman put up her hands, and offered what she probably thought was a heartfelt smile, and not the sinister sneer it was.

"I'm here for my own purposes, true, but I asked to speak to you for two reasons. First, I'm not here to start a war with you, Antoinette," Azamel said. The Prince twitched at the lack of title use. "But the city is large, and prime for my goals. Second, something has been stirred, and I offer you that knowledge as a peace offering."

"Stirred?" She looked at Daniel, but he could only shrug.

"Yes, something has come to the city, recently, and has been killing your precious 'kine' in the tunnels. No bother to you, I'm sure, but I fear it will attract unwanted attention. And neither I nor you want such attention."

Antoinette sighed, and stroked her chin. "You know who has been behind the recent disappearances then, Azamel?"

"I do. But there's more happening here, vampire, than the disappearances you are aware of. So, I propose a deal."

Azamel was sounding more like Viktor every minute.

"A deal?"

"Nothing horrible, I assure you. I simply wish for an exchange of information. I will tell you who has been behind the disappearances, if you can tell me where the spiders have been coming from."

Antoinette quirked a brow and looked the old woman up and down. Hard to read her, old as she was, and the Prince's beast could make little understanding of whatever Azamel was peacocking. If she was peacocking at all. Such a deal sounded harmless, but it was not; a fact of history.

Azamel's expression was solid, and she waited with a finger tapping on the arm of her chair. Antoinette was the one in the dark in this conversation, not her. And she was not used to being in the lower dealing position.

"I can tell from your silence that you don't know about the spiders." Azamel shrugged, and motioned her head toward Mark. "Mark is the one who has spotted them, and he is the one who assures me a threat is growing."

Again the man stayed silent, but a dull glance from him set her on edge all the same.

"And he is sure there is weight to this fear?" she said.

"He is."

"... does he not speak?"

Azamel chuckled, coughed, and wiped a bit of drool from her mouth. "Only when he has to. Better for everyone that way."

Delightful.

"You are correct Azamel, I do not know of these spiders." It took her hundreds of years of practice to hide the contempt in her eyes. Admitting ignorance was painful at any age, and potentially dangerous in her position. "But I will investigate, if you are concerned."

More laughs from the old woman. "You sound like you're doing it for my sake. This is a warning for you, Antoinette, not me. If the spiders are not dealt with quickly, a rain of fire will land upon your city. I don't want that, you don't want that, but it's you that will have to scoop up the ashes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Natasha~~

A few days later, and the nightmares only got worse. Now she was dreaming of muddy hands reaching out from under her bed, grabbing her ankles, and pulling her down under the bed into god knows where. Now her nightmares hinted at eyes in the shadows, faces behind the mirror, movement in the darkness, of souls forever enacting their final emotions. Usually murderous anger.

So she had Jessy over. Because Jessy was big and strong and could scare off the monsters under her bed.

Fifty years embraced, Natasha. You're over seventy years old in total. What the hell is the matter with you?

Ghost in the walls was what was mattering her! The shrunken head sat outside her room, she was sure! Sometimes when she awoke with the passing of dusk, she opened her door just to make sure she was indeed alone, and no shrunken head or hand of glory was there waiting for her.

Worse was the wedding dress. Such a classic tale, and that the whole scene was permanently scarred into the dress? All those stories about ghosts and poltergeists she'd heard throughout her life started to sound a little more real. She knew other monsters existed in the world; Kindred weren't the only humanoids with special teeth. But ghosts? Ghosts!?

Ok, different topic, different topic.

Natasha sat at the counter, browsing on her laptop as per usual. Or at least trying to. Jessy was on the couch, watching TV, some MMA fight.

"So how're things with the crazies?" Jessy said.

"They're... g-good. Just scary."

"Scary?"

Not a different topic!

"Um, so, how about you? How are things with the Invictus?"

"Not gonna lie, pretty fucked up. You gone and Viktor gone means we've lost a lot of senior staff. There're like twelve Kindred we could promote, they're as old as us, just not used to how shit rolls at the top level."

"Yeah, I guess. Mister Vanna maybe? He—"

"Hey, Natasha, come on. Tell me." Jessy turned around on the couch, got on her knees on the cushions, elbows on the back, and looked at her. "We're best friends, think you can tell me."

Tell her why she left the Invictus. She hadn't yet, and she really should, but she didn't want to create a problem. Or she was just afraid of how Jessy might react, maybe disagree with her choice, maybe back up Maria? What about Daniel, how would Jessy react to that?

If you want her to stay your friend through all this Natasha, you're going to have to throw her a bone.

"... Mada—Maria, she... let Lucas use me... as a hostage... when he attacked the Prince."

"Huh? What? How's that make any sense?"

"... the sheriff is my sire."

Bomb dropped.

Jessy raised a brow, looked at her, looked down, looked at her, looked down, looked over at the kitchen counter, then back to her.

"Fucking... wow." Jessy sat back down on her butt, and threw up her hands before hooking them on the couch back. She leaned back, let her head dangle over the back of the couch, and looked at Natasha upside down. "Fucking wow."

"... yeah. Sorry I never t-t-told you."

"Maria? ...what a bitch."

Natasha laughed. Damn it, the serious of the situation was gone. Jessy never could take things seriously for long, but that was a good thing with Natasha brooding all the time.

Brooding all the damn time now, and being scared, and alone. Not really alone; she could always rely on Daniel. But it wasn't the same as having a friend, and she didn't want to ruin that when she moved. Hell, she'd given up the Invictus and made a major life change, time to stop brooding and do other new things. Now was the perfect time, wasn't it?

"Hey, Jessy." She reached deep down into her gut and looked for some courage. Something about the whole mess had left some in there, she just had to look for it. "I'm... hungry."

"Cool, I'll hold the fort."

Arg. Jessy was going to make this difficult without even realizing it.

"I mean... can you..."

"Can I what?" Jessy's head was still hanging off the couch back, upside down, looking at her.

"You... know..." Natasha just squirmed like a fish on a hook. How could she say it?

"What?"

"Last time you... offered."

"Oh. Oh! Ooooh shit." Jessy rolled over and hopped off the couch to join her at the counter with such speed, like a dog with a treat. "You want me to get the boys over? For serious?"