My Little Ventrue Pt. 05 Ch. 09

"Natasha was examining the scene, too," he said. "She might have told Arturo and Matthew."

"Maybe. When was this?"

"Must be... six, or seven hours ago." Yeah, daylight was coming, and he didn't want to be outside when that happened, Shadow world or not. "At least, that's when we found it. Ritual was done well before that. Weeks, maybe months before."

She threw up her hands before leaning forward, to let them dangle off her knees. "Well, you've seen them, and, yeah, I guess you know they're out for flesh. You have any idea how fucking weird that is? Spirits sustain on essence, not flesh."

"I uh... I don't think they were looking to eat it. More like... looking to... study it?"

"Slightly more viable, but still fucking strange." She looked left, looked right, and leaned in closer to him. Too close, close enough her breath was on his ear, close enough he could tell she was flirting him, indirectly. "Avery sent Carter and I here to check out where these wraiths were going. Where did they find you?"

"Don't tell her!" A caw and a gush of air later, the enormous crow came down to join them. It stood on the street, preened its feathers a few times, and shook its head. "Uratha are bullies."

"We already know Begotten can get in here," she said. "But, if Fiona doesn't want to share—"

"Aye, I dinnae want to share with the likes of ye." The redhead marched up to Clara, and glared down at her, height advantage given by Clara still sitting down. "Sky is right, ye werewolves are bullies. Mean, loud, bullies."

Jack started rubbing his head again. Being the in-between for the Uratha and Begotten, when dealing with Kindred, was tough enough. Please don't make things worse, Fiona.

Flow flowed over to them, Carter behind her, and the waves lapped gently against the street and Jack's feet as the spirit circled around them. Far as he could tell, the spirit was glaring at Sky, crystal white, glowing eyes piercing through him like an actual angel warrior's might. Intimidating, to say the least, and Jack kept glancing her way as she gently moved about.

"Back to the ritual," he said, before this spiraled out of control. Too much going on, and he needed to make something of this, before they were taken back to the physical world.

He described the ritual, in perhaps a little less detail than he should have; his Kindred prerogative to hold onto details coming through a bit, and wait for Clara's reaction. Some nods as he described the symbols, the skeleton, the blood and arrangement, but her eyes went wide as he described the pictures. She gulped when he described the picture of him.

"Everything sounds like someone was communicating with these weird red wraiths," she said, "but... the pictures... that doesn't."

"It's strange! It's haunting," he said. "Fucking has me looking over my shoulder all the damn time."

"Let's talk more, when we get back."

"I—"

"We're going. Now."

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~~Eric~~

So this was Azamel, old Granny sitting in a shitty old chair, smoking a cigarette. Like a scene from his childhood.

"This is the Eric Fiona spoke of?" She blew a puff of smoke at him from her perch on the weird concrete stage. "Attractive man. No wonder Fiona was interested in you."

"Um, thanks." He scratched the back of his neck, and looked at the rest of them. "Mark, right?"

The man shrugged, nodded, then returned to his book. Well, so much for conversation.

"I suppose you are looking for Fiona," Azamel said.

"He wasn't, actually." Athalia shrugged, and gestured to him once she'd climbed up onto the stage and took a seat. "Fucker just had his first change. And based on the few words I picked up, he's killed some people, eaten them, and now he's terribly worried about his cat."

"... that's the long and short of it, I guess. Athalia thinks I should hide out here, with you guys, for now, at least." Which seemed like an unusual, and random offering of goodwill from someone he'd never talked to. Was Fiona talking him up? Having someone in his corner was a nice change of pace.

"That would be prudent," the old woman said, blowing smoke out through her nose as she talked. "Of course, if we do you this favor, I expect the favor to be returned some day."

"Of course." He was in over his head, so deep, so fucking deep, that he needed to grab onto something before he drowned, anything. This old woman he trusted about as much as his ex wife throwing him a rope. "I... I really would like to see if... if my cat is alright."

Mark smirked at him, but returned to his book. Eric was almost tempted to say something stupid, like 'help a brother out', but he would have choked on the cliché.

"When Fiona returns, she can go search. But I doubt the cat survived your anger, Eric, if this was your first change."

"Any idea when that'll be?"

"No. And I do not lie, about your pet's chances of survival. The old myth goes that a wolf hunts those they love, when they change. Myths are born from truths, mixed with ignorance, in the dark."

Shit. He couldn't leave Kat behind. Not a chance, no way. Only damn thing on the planet he trusted, at this point, was that cat.

"Then, I decline. Sorry, but I'm going back. Thanks for the offer." He nodded to Azamel, and Athalia, before he turned and walked away. He could be sneaky, right? Figure out a way back into the apartment, see if his cat was there... see if he killed her. Fuck, what would he do if he'd killed Kat? Stomach full of human flesh, that was one thing, but knowing he'd kill his pet and only friend was a fate he wasn't sure he could stomach.

"They might kill you," Athalia said, unmoving from her perch. "You don't want to hide here with us? We could use a werewolf who owes us. But if the blood leeches think you've violated the Masquerade to a large degree, they'll end you."

"Yeah, I know." He shivered at the memory of the white-haired woman. Tall as the tower she commanded, her amber red gaze confident and calculating. The queen of Dolareido. Yeah, she'd kill him, and now that he could understand the memory, and understand the feeling looking at that woman put into his gut, he knew he wouldn't have a chance against her in a fight.

But he needed to see, now, what happened, what he did, how bad it was. And god damn it, he needed to see if Kat was alright.

"I'll go with him."

Eric looked over his shoulder, and the two ladies raised a brow as Mark hopped off the concrete stage, leaving his book behind. A thicker man, dark skin like Eric, short curly hair, and some fat to go with what Eric could see was some muscle mass underneath his hoodie. Eric knew his type, from his drinking days, the guy at the bar who hangs by himself, watches people, gets drunk, occasionally gets into fights when they drift his way, and does more than hold his own. Some fat to go with the muscle was a very, very effective way to make a body strong and resilient, when weight classes weren't a factor.

His voice sounded plain, but the man did not seem plain. He seemed gross. He smelled gross. He felt gross, the air around him, the presence he took with him. A glance down at Eric's arms showed there wasn't any creepy crawls on his skin, but this Mark fellow made it feel like there was, and it only got worse the closer he got.

"Why?" Eric said.

Mark offered a small, backward salute to Azamel, and nodded toward the tunnel Eric came from. Deep breaths, deep breaths, nothing to fear from these monsters, they were friends of Fiona's, and you know the circumstance they're in. If you're a freak, and apparently you are, other freaks should be your friends. He might not be the same type of freak, but a freak anyway.

Was freak PC? How the fuck do you ask a question like that?

"I want to see the fallout," Mark said. "We're not on the best terms with the vamps, and this situation is a good test."

"Test for what?"

"See what happens if a Begotten let their hunger out, and the vamps went on the offensive to stop it."

"... you'd eat people?"

"Depends on the Begotten." He shrugged again, and continued down the path, hands in his jean pockets, eyes on the tracks ahead of him. Casual, calm, creepy. "Some of us? Yeah, some of us would do exactly what you might have done. So, let's go find out."

"Alright, sure. Keep an eye open for my cat, too. Black and gray lines, white tummy. Soft face."

"... you're the only werewolf on the planet who owns a cat, I'm pretty sure."

Eric smirked, and shrugged. "She's a dumbass. I love her."

The two continued in silence after that. Attempts at conversation with the man went nowhere, as this Mark fellow was lost in his mind, thinking about God knows what. The most annoying thing was, as they walked for minutes, through the winding maze of the depths of Dolareido's guts, the smell of rotting flesh. It wasn't coming from Eric, and it wasn't coming from the stuff Eric vomited earlier; that had its own unique smell. Whatever the scent was, it was distinctly the smell of rotting, decaying flesh. It made Eric's hair stand up straight, despite Mark's relaxed body language. Eric could feel that the man wasn't using any aggressive body language, but that smell carried its own threats the man couldn't put a finger on.

The smell of two undead joined the subtle smell of necrosis. Eric slowed down a bit, but Mark shrugged and gestured ahead. Keep walking then, it's only two Kindred, what threat could two Kindred pose?

Or Mark was looking for an excuse to fight.

"Eric!"

"... Jessy? I..." God damn he was happy to see her; especially happy that she wasn't greeting him with a hail of gunfire. He smiled at her, and his smile doubled as his eyes fell to the cat in her arms. "Kat! Oh thank fucking god, I thought I might have—"

"So it was you." The man next to her was tall, wearing a suit that must have cost thousands. With his combed back blond hair, broad shoulders, and clean shaven look, he might as well have had 'mafia' tattooed to his forehead.

And Eric didn't like the way the man was looking at him. It was obvious enough the big guy wasn't happy, and was now thinking of Eric as the werewolf who had caused unwanted damage, but there was something else to him, too, something in his eyes made Eric want to avert his gaze before it became dangerous. Almost as if the vampire — and he was a vampire, from the smell — was going to attack Eric with his eyes alone. Jessy hadn't exactly shared many details with him about how vamps worked, but he'd seen enough vampire movies to know some of them could use mind powers. Not that movies were the best source, but better than nothing.

"I... uh... yeah." Eric folded his arms across his chest, and did his best to look apologetic, but not too apologetic, something in between, like 'I'm sorry, but it was inevitable' sort of sorry. Made him feel like a politician. "Apparently... I'm a werewolf."

The big guy snorted, and looked to Jessy. She had something between an awestruck smile, and a know-it-all grin. Meeting the man's gaze, she raised Kat up to her cheek, and rubbed her face into the cat's body. Kat, being Kat, responded with a quiet meow, some loud purrs, and full on return snuggles. Not like Kat would care she was surrounded by werewolves, monsters, and vampires; if anything, Kat was overjoyed to be rubbing against an undead creature. Damn cat.

"Sorry about Pitt," Jessy said, still snuggling Kat. "You really tore the place up though, made a huge mess, and now we got a clean up crew working overtime dealing with it. Can you fill us in on what happened?"

"He—"

Mark held up a hand, turned around, and pulled Eric back with him a few steps. "Careful what you say," he said into Eric's ear. "You want out from under their thumb? Don't give them information so easily."

"The fuck do you care?"

"Azamel doesn't get along with the Kindred of Dolareido. And now that you've pissed off the vamps, damaged their Masquerade, neither do you. We could use a friend like you." Well, at least the man was honest.

"I get... along..." He glanced over his shoulder at the two vampires. Jessy was grinning at him, in a way he hadn't really expected, almost playful, as she gently swished side to side with Kat, cradling her. The other guy was in a permanent state of subtle frown. "If they wanted to kill me, don't you think they would have done so by now? I'm sure the two of them have guns, and vampire shit at their disposal."

"You underestimate how strong you are now, as an Uratha. And besides, Kindred never do things directly. You'll figure that out soon enough." The man nodded, turned back to the two vampires, and waited.

Never do things directly. Eric didn't like the sound of that, and this big guy with Jessy did seem like that sort. But then, the fuck did Eric know about shit like this? Mark was being upfront with him about things, about needing a friend, but Jessy had been upfront with him too.

Sighing, Eric stepped forward to speak with the Kindred once again. Less reacting, more thinking, make intelligent choices about what to say next.

"Pitt showed up, said Long was going to send Xnomina a message, about not being bullied around anymore. My body was supposed to be the message, I guess." Wouldn't have surprised him if Pitt was going to write a literal message in his flesh though. Slimy fucker.

He ate the slimy fucker. The rush of the kill was pleasing and satisfying in his memories, like a warm blanket on a cold day. The feel of human flesh going down his throat and into his belly, was euphoria, ambrosia, divine and addictive. Nausea hit him again, and he struggled to stay standing. Ignore it, ignore the fact you ate Pitt, that you ate his goons, ignore that you swallowed bits of their muscle, their limbs, their brains.

"We figured as much," the big guy said. "But, instead of just killing them, you created a huge mess, woke up every person for half a mile with the racket, left a huge amount of evidence of a paranormal, and have undoubtedly turned a bad situation with Terra Den into a catastrophe."

"Julias, come on, he saved your kid's life. Cut him a little slack."

Julias was his name, then. That was the name of the man Beatrice said she was dating, whose mansion she'd taken Jack to.

"... you're Jack's sire," Eric said.

The vampire snarled, and glared down at Jessy. Both she and Kat shrank a little. No hiding that body language: Julias was a deadly man if he chose to be. Eric's new instincts were in overdrive, in a very blatant screaming-in-his-ear sort of way. Be careful with this man.

"Your help in saving Jack's second life has already been returned by the Prince, Eric. That deal she made with you was continued by us." The man, arms folded across his chest as well, tapped his finger against his bicep. "And you'll find disturbing the Masquerade is not only more important than a single Kindred's life, but you were specifically warned—"

Eric stepped forward, and let his arms hang, available, in case he had to get physical. After everything that had happened tonight, he didn't want to get physical. It was late, very late, and all he wanted to do was go to bed, curl up with Kat, and sleep.

"I didn't know this would happen. I didn't know a slimy loan shark was going to show up at my door and try and kill me, mister big bad vampire. I didn't know I... I'd change..."

"You didn't know?" Jessy said.

He shook his head. "No." Don't give them anymore details than they need, than will serve you. Much as he felt he could trust Jessy, Mark had a point. If he was going to get out from under their thumb, it was in his interest to not let them know everything, so he could get some damn control of his life back. "Hit me like a fucking train, out of nowhere, and I... can barely remember what I was doing."

"... ok." Julias began to pace side to side, head down and chin in his fingers. "Much as I'm sure this Begotten here is trying to recruit the new werewolf, understand that this is a Kindred city, Eric. You do what we tell you to do. You caused some major damage, and the clean up is problematic."

"I can—"

"Unless you are versed in mind breaking or forensics, shut the fuck up. The issue is that news like that inevitably leaks, in some fashion or another. You know damn well we have a hunter problem, as is, and there's no way we'll be able to cover up every detail about this event so they won't know. And being that they're human, some we won't recognize could have already visited the crime scene by now."

Thinking ten steps ahead seemed to be the man's game. Eric could respect that, as long as it didn't mean biting Eric in the ass over something that wasn't his fault.

"... so what do I have to do to make the vamps happy?"

Maybe vamps wasn't the right word, cause Julias eyed him with a little more malice than Eric was hoping for. Learning how to be PC in this strange world of darkness was going to be tricky.

"Go talk to Avery and get yourself put on a leash."

"Avery?" Play dumb, see what he says.

"Leader of an Uratha pack, the Hunters in Darkness, here in Dolareido. Jessy, take this man to his new apartment. He's your problem until Avery talks to him."

The Kindred grinned a sneaky, deadly grin, like a child given access to their first BB gun. "Yes, sir."

"... ok." So much for not being under anyone's thumb.

Jessy walked over to him, winked, threw Mark a snarl, and nodded in the direction of a different fork in the tunnels. "What about you, boss?"

"Gonna head back to the scene, talk with Vivi, and make sure everything's fine." The man made the same sort of snarl Jessy did, again aimed at Mark, who stood there with all the defiance of a lazy statue.

No gunfire, no claws or fangs, no blood, no nothing. All in all, coming out of the altercation with his life was a pretty big step up from the horrible execution he was expecting. He wasn't happy though, another leash on his life. At least Jessy was enjoying this, grin permanent and unending.

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"Holy shit."

As a kid, it was always a delight to watch movies where someone who was poor suddenly became rich. Thrust into a life of money and options, thrust into luxury; the comparison of their old lives to the new life of indulgence was escapism at its finest. Those movies always ended with the poor-become-rich getting to keep their money, to some extent at least, and coming to some sort of moral lesson that allowed them to become a better person. Eric would be content with the former; he didn't need the latter.

The whole place was reeked of slick, modern, rich, and technology. It smelled of chemicals, the sort used to keep a place sparkling clean and sterile. Sterile was a pretty good word to describe the giant apartment in general, now that he thought about it, as he kicked off his boots, and started walking around. The walls were mostly windows, but the drapes — with switches to control them — might as well have been made of black panther fur, far as his eyes could tell.

A giant, open kitchen, with an island, black upon the white tile floor. Not cheap tile either, but something that might as well have been expensive marble. There was a crystal thing hanging over the dining table, with lights inside bathing the table in gentle waves. The table itself was glass, thick glass, with red wood legs from a probably endangered species of tree. The walls were white like the floor, and the cupboards, the shelves, all of it was stainless steel color, screaming of professionalism despite how it was an apartment, not a chef's kitchen.

Jessy winked at him, and set down Kat. "I know cats can... take time to... the fuck?"

Eric laughed as Kat ignored Jessy's otherwise true comment, and walked over to the couch. Black, and from the scent Eric's new nose picked up, it was real leather. It wouldn't have surprised him if Kat started to scratch it, with no scratch tower in her new home, instead she jumped on its back, and looked out through the enormous window behind it. Perch mode.