My Little Ventrue Pt. 05 Ch. 01

"Can't." And, as if the world were summarized in that single word, the spirit started hovering in random directions. Never far from the necklace of course, a few feet to the side, maybe six feet up, but always back to the necklace.

"It... these spirits aren't truly... c-capable of internal reasoning, I think," Natasha said. "They seem bound to their... to what they are."

"... merde." Sighing, Antoinette folded her arms under her bosom. "I know these spirits are defined by what they are, to an all-encompassing degree. But that does not mean they are incapable of lying."

"Can't lie! Must trade. Secret with lie, is not secret, just lie. Trade?"

The Prince was not used to being denied. Natasha had to fight to hide her smirk, at how this simple little spirit was defying her, especially over something like secrets. Secrets were Antoinette's favorite dessert, Natasha was sure, and having it denied her was too cute. And scary. This strange magical machinery of the Prince's made the spirits physical, in a way, and that meant Antoinette could rip the strangely adorable-but-gross floating eyeball in half if she wanted to.

"Alright, I will tell you my secret first." With a groan, Antoinette gestured with her hand, as if the secret itself deserved an open palm. "Garry Tones once slept with a young man, Kindred, who was a member of the Lancea et Sanctum, during the years of Lucas's rise. They were romantic together. Lucas found out, and killed the boy."

Oh, eesh. Natasha squirmed a little and looked down, not wanting to make eye contact with anything as she visualized how horrible that must have been. The secret would not damage Garry's life to be known, except perhaps that it would infuriate him to know others knew about such a horrible trauma. Antoinette could be ruthless in her pursuits of knowledge.

"Secret! Secret! Avery, Uratha, thinks someone named Maria is looking for a way to summon Black Blood. She—"

Antoinette's hand snapped out, grabbed the creature, and sank her nails into it as she brought it up to her face. "Black Blood!? Maria would never attempt to summon that monster! She knows nothing of it!"

Natasha almost jumped away, but managed to stay put, and shiver a little as Antoinette's eyes lit ablaze.

"But... secret! I give, trade!"

"Um, I-I think... this little guy really doesn't know how t-to do anything else. Just, trade secrets. Maybe spy too, t-t-to learn secrets, but... don't think it can lie." Black Blood? Who was Black Blood?

The Prince brought the creature in closer still, until it was only a few inches from her face. Fangs bared, eyes wide, she snarled deep under her breath, and glared into the pitiful thing hard enough to cut steel.

"Why does she think Maria is trying to summon that monstrosity? Consider the information a part of the secret we traded."

"Avery found whispers! Whispers from Black Blood's wraiths in Hisil! Someone named Maria was trying to talk to them. That's all I know!"

Letting go of the black squid, Antoinette sighed, and began to circle the creature. The poor spirit was spooked, jittering, skin vibrating like a puddle, its eye tracking Antoinette. Poor thing. Except, Natasha knew she should know better, to pity it. It was a spirit, it didn't 'feel' things like living creatures did. Its existence was devoted to fueling its purpose, feeding it, and anything else was not a part of its being. Being jittery and quick to panic was probably just a valuable trait to incorporate into its behavior, if it was a purveyor of secrets.

Still, it was oddly adorable in its simplicity, and Natasha pouted as she watched it grow nervous.

"... I will make you another trade, spirit of secrets," the Prince said. "Tell me of Black Blood's latest goals, its current agenda, and I—"

The creature made a pathetic, squealing shriek sound, and went poof.

The two Kindred stared on, looked at each other, then at the empty air where the creature used to be. They waited, for thirty seconds, but nothing happened. No more noise, no more spirit, no nothing. It'd gone home.

"Shall I... t-turn it off?" Natasha said.

"Yes, you may as well." Sighing, Antoinette scooped up the necklace, and walked back over to the table where they kept their laptops and the objects they were studying for the day. The only one they hadn't already tested in the device was the new necklace, and now with test one complete, they both had some notes to take.

Natasha set the resonance level back to zero, and turned off the ephemera-exposing blue light. Back in normal lighting conditions, Natasha came over to sit with the Prince again. She thought to find the Prince typing away and filling in her observations, but instead, Antoinette was leaning back in her chair, her chin between some fingers while her other hand combed her hair over her shoulder, down her chest. Thinking mode. Natasha usually chewed on a pen or something, Antoinette seemed to comb her hair.

"... it... ran away?" Tash said.

"Indeed. It is afraid of Black Blood, no doubt; if such a simple creature is capable of fear. I doubted it would answer my question, as that entity's shadow has haunted Dolareido for centuries now."

"Centuries!?"

"Indeed. My experiments with the Gauntlet, and testing what entities I could draw from the other side, started not long after I arrived here with Jacob. Before we Kindred had managed to manipulate the small village into our foundation for a future utopia, whispers of that name were on the words of the people, the kine. Jacob, deep into his own experiments, his dark magics and blood rituals, also discovered mention of the creature's name. I know his relationship with it, if it could be called a relationship, has grown as well. They know each other."

"J-Jacob... knows... this thing?"

"Oui. To my chagrin, I have not been able to discern the exact nature of that relationship. It... Black Blood was involved, somehow, with the incident with Simon and Avery." She frowned, hard, and grit her teeth until her fangs were bared again. So weird, so very weird, for Antoinette to carry anger on her face when she got frustrated. "But that is not what bothers me."

"... is... is it b-because... this?" Natasha reached out, and picked up the necklace on the table.

"Yes. I imported this piece through my connections with the company Border Explorations, as I have done many times in the past. And yet, this time, not only does the object have no memory imprinted upon it, it resonates with the spirit world in such a way as to attract a spirit of secrets." She reached out for the necklace, and Natasha set into her hand. "It does not surprise me such a spirit would exist in Dolareido, as both Kindred and kine grow secrets here like a garden of weeds. What surprises me, is the delightful timing of this necklace."

"It... it d-does seem awfully perfect, doesn't it? We want to know more about Avery, and w-what she's up to, and... this necklace is perfect for that."

Antoinette stared into the black orbs the necklace wrapped in its strings, and rubbed one with a thumb. Fiery eyes stared into it, and Antoinette's frown faded away as she slowly set the necklace back down.

"Someone has conspired to insure I would receive this necklace. They wished for me to know more about what is happening on the other side of the veil."

"Are we sure it c-can't be coincidence?"

"We coincidentally learn that Maria has been communicating, or attempting to communicate, with this creature beyond our realm?"

"... no, I suppose it... it couldn't b-b-be coincidence." A lot of randomness involved though. Would Antoinette buy the necklace was a big roll of the die, and if the device would summon a creature that resonated with it was another roll of the die. Whoever had set this up knew the necklace was a necklace of secrets though, and had a clue as to what sort of experiments Antoinette did. That lowered the possible people down to a manageable amount, at least.

"I... am also concerned... about Maria." Antoinette set the necklace back onto the table, closer to Natasha. "Assuming that that spirit was incapable of lying, as you believe, then Maria is pursuing a course of action I fear has no happy ending."

"I d-don't understand. What is Black Blood?"

"A spirit, a very old and powerful spirit, my dear Vola. Unlike the innocent creatures we have summoned, this dark entity has haunted Dolareido for so long, it has... it is beyond simple descriptions. It pursues death, murder, but it also pursues life, in a strange way, in a way only Jacob and his crúac rituals could understand."

This, was exactly why Natasha left the Ordo Dracul in the first place. She didn't want to deal with crazy alien creatures from the beyond! She wanted to sit down, deal with data, deal with money, deal with secrets. Those were things she could understand, and catalog, and control. Now she was dealing with sewer monsters, nightmare monsters, spirit monsters, and everything in between.

"So, um, m-my... t-t-task now is to: discover the weakness of the Begotten, or at least Azamel; track down the hunters, p-particularly Jeremiah or Angela; find out more about M-Maria's motives; find out what Clara... w-w-warned us ab—ooh... m-maybe she warned us about Maria? And, um, I'm also t-to continue this research here." She gestured to the room behind her. Conveniently, she left out how much work that was, how much life threatening work that was, and how much she would not be able to handle that all on her own. The Prince noticed it without her saying it, and smirked at her.

"Alas, you make a point, my dear Vola. I will continue my research alone; you need no longer attend these research meetings of ours. Daniel is already investigating Clara's mysterious warning, though I suspect the man will be able to find little. Perhaps, with this new information, he may find something by investigating Maria Turio's activities though. You, my sweet, shall consider dealing with the hunters your primary task, and discovering the weakness of Azamel your secondary task."

"W-What about Maria?"

"Your sire will handle it, Miss Vola. Please leave Maria be. We do not know the extent of her pursuits, or her goals."

"B-But... I..." I feel like I should be involved. I know Maria better than most. I owe her a lot, too, like a punch to the face. "Yes Prince."

Primary task meant put your life on the line for it if need be, like the time she was investigating the tunnels. Secondary task meant looking it up on the laptop when at home, or just keeping an open ear for it when the opportunity presented itself. So she was being told to risk her life to deal with the hunters, but don't risk it for dealing with the Begotten. Reasonable, but scary, considering what the hunters had done already, killing Barry and nearly killing Jack.

Natasha nodded. "I'll see it d-done." And she would too. Hunting down humans, in a city, by being sneaky and smart and cross-referencing data in an increasingly intricate mountain of evidence? She was damn good at that, she just had to be careful to not end up like Barry. "... I rarely see my sire these days, Prince."

"Neither do I, my dear. I miss his company, as quiet as it was. But, he must disappear for days at a time, to find his prey."

"That worries... m-m-me. He... he d-didn't find Jeremiah or Angela."

"That worries me, as well, my dear. These humans hide themselves using the size of my city, and its teeming masses that they can blend in with as easily as they breathe. And worse still, they use strange tools to pursue their goals. Relics, artifacts perhaps, or rituals that tap into forces that defy my knowledge." The Prince lowered her gaze, eyes becoming red steel. If there was one person who hated not knowing something, it was her.

"I will m-make sure, to learn about how they're hiding so well t-t-too."

"See that you do. These pests are proving incessant, and that cannot stand. I will see this Jeremiah and Angela dead, and I will purge this city clean of their like, even if it floods Dolareido's streets in red."

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

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

~~Eric~~

What now?

Eric stared on over the deadly white sheets of the hospital bed. The distensions in the blanket marked the legs of the round man underneath the pale sheet. Some hospitals used green, some use mauve, some sky blue. This hospital liked white. Felt professional, and sterile.

"You see this?" The old man in the bed gestured to the TV on the wall, thrice as large and far newer than the one in the other hospital.

"Can't not see it." Groaning, Eric leaned forward, ass starting to hurt a bit as the cushions of the seat did not agree with him. Whatever, just a bit of pain to accent the futility of why he was here. Wonderful. He put his elbows to his knees, and looked to the TV. The Amazon forest was burning to the ground.

"I swear the world's burning down around us," his father said.

"Metaphor?"

"Of course it's a fucking metaphor."

Eric shrugged. "Thought maybe you really cared about the rainforest."

The old man snorted, and put the TV remote back onto the sheets after muting the TV. "Makes me sick."

"Then stop watching it."

"I'm not going to ignore the world's problems."

Yeah, right. Old man couldn't ignore a problem, no matter how small it was, no matter how much he couldn't affect it.

"Could join the relief effort, help block the fire from spreading," Eric said. "I'm sure you'll be of great help."

His old man glared at him, sneered, and looked back to the TV. "Fuck you."

"Fuck you too."

They both sighed, and let the silence of the muted TV fill the room. The captions were on. His dad could hear fine, but he found the quick talking of the reporters and civilians annoying. Poor fool wouldn't be able to stomach a single conversation with a Gen Z, let alone a Millennial.

"Nurses here treating you alright?" Eric said.

"Well enough. Shorter skirts and bigger breasts seem to be the only upgrade."

"I told you don't harass the nurses."

"I'm not harassing them."

"Dad, saying to a woman that she had a nice rack is harassment."

"Pretty sure that's a compliment."

"It is, it's also sexual harassment."

His old man sighed, and shrugged. "Can I at least say nice ass?"

"... better, but I still wouldn't advise it. These women — and men — are the only things between you and a shit-filled bed."

"If they didn't want the compliment, why wear the short skirt?"

Explaining to his idiot old man the delicacies of flirting versus harassing was not how he wanted to spend his Sunday afternoon.

"They want you to notice, but they don't want you leer. Direct, tactless compliments are the verbal equivalent of leering. And besides, it's not you they're trying to get to notice anyway."

"I can still bag the ladies when I want to."

Eric raised a brow at the old man, and smirked. His dad was normal height, like him, but he didn't shave his head like Eric, instead preferring some short hair; now white short hair. He had a bit of a beard too, trim at least, but otherwise a full beard. He wasn't extremely fat, but he had more flub on him than a heath-conscious guy like Eric would prefer he had, and the soft roundness it gave his dad's face betrayed the darkness of the man's soul.

"You're a regular Bill Cosby, dad."

"I watch the news son, or did you not notice?" Old man gestured to the TV again. "So fuck you too."

And around, and around, and around they went.

Maybe you should try putting your good foot forward first for once, Eric? He thought he did that by getting his dad into a better hospital. Nah, best that managed was a single 'thanks' from the old man, before things went right back to normal. Well, old man take a look at my life, I could use a fucking olive branch, just like you.

Pointless attempts to mend burned bridges was only half the reason he was here though.

"Dad, serious question."

"Shoot."

"You ever felt... like... an animal?"

"Eric, I'll stop harassing the nurses if you—"

"No, not about that. I mean, literally, you ever felt like... I don't know, someone eying you in the street, thinking you're an easy target to mug, and you feel... ready to tear into them?"

His dad raised a brow as he stared at him, before adjusting his hospital gown, and scratching at the tubes coming out of his forearm and nostrils. If Eric's words had triggered some sort of memory, hidden reflex, anything like that, the heart monitor didn't show it.

"We grew up in a rough neighborhood son, you know that. Did some things in my life I ain't proud of, hurt people when I had to protect me, you, or your mother."

"This isn't about that either." Thankfully, the two of them were past that part of the father and son relationship, talking about their shit life and the struggles they had growing up together. Now, it was figuring out how to not hate each other as adults. It wasn't going well.

"The fuck is it then?"

"Ever want to... not just kill someone, but..." Hunt them down, tear them open, eat their flesh. "Forget it. Guess I'm just still angry about shit."

"If I was a dumbass like you, I'd be angry about shit too. How's Sheryl by the way?"

"Haven't spoken to her since last time I told you." Not like his dad liked Sheryl. Old man had called her out for what sort of person she was long before Eric realized it. He'd called Eric out for what sort of person Eric had become before he realized it too. In both circumstances, his old man had had the tact of a fucking gun. Maybe if the fucker hadn't been such a monumental asshole about it, Eric would have listened to him.

Too fucking late now. A delightful life lesson that he could never swallow. Just cause you don't like how the truth tastes doesn't mean it isn't the fucking truth.

As he sat there with his dad, and the two of them watched the muted news, reading the captions, he tried to feel, to sense, look for any of the weird signals his new mind had been sending him. Was his dad dangerous? Was his dad an animal, like him? Was his dad something more than just his dad? No, it all seemed perfectly normal, perfectly dad-ish, perfectly human. For the best, probably. Unless, his dad might live if he became the sort of person Eric was becoming.

Eric looked down at his knee, and groaned as he flexed it. Still hurt. If he was becoming a werewolf, or whatever, why did that still fucking hurt? Wouldn't it heal? Is that something werewolves did? Christ, he needed to talk to Fiona, get some answers about who he was.

"Seeing anyone?" his dad said. "Must see a lot of nice girls at a nightclub." The sarcasm was palpable, and with just a hint of bitter for a delightful cocktail of fuck you.

"Bloodlust is closer to a lounge than club."

"Yeah, how so?"

"Less people, and you don't have to scream at the top of your lungs to speak to the person beside you." And it was a front for vampires to get themselves easy meals, using sexuality, booze, and drugs to turn humans into defenseless prey. Didn't seem like the vamps killed their victims, at least not at Bloodlust, so he had to admit, it was a pretty cozy setup for them, one he didn't mind.

And they were paying his salary, a pretty sweet salary, so he shouldn't complain. Hell, that Jessy girl did him a huge favor, and the only thing she wanted in return was to fuck him. Talk about a reversal of expectations.

Except, now, she knew he knew she was a vampire. Suddenly he was neck deep in a strange world, with vampires and werewolves and monsters, and they had a leash on him. He didn't like being on a leash, but as far as he could tell, the leash wasn't forcing him to do anything he wouldn't already do. New job with great money and great benefits? Yeah, he'd do that. Sexy woman with a hard body — the fitness nut in him creamed its pants at the sight of her — who wanted to fuck him? Yeah, he'd do her. And now, the sexy vampire and a beautiful monster were looking to make his nights more interesting on a regular basis. Yeah, he'd probably appreciate that too.