My Little Ventrue Pt. 05 Ch. 12

"That... is some seriously disturbing shit," Eric said. Jack could almost see the man's brain collapse with the new knowledge that occult rituals existed, and likely worked. And from there, his brain would spiral Fibonacci style, adding more and more possibilities to the ever expanding pattern. The world of darkness was filled with so many new possibilities, each darker and crueler than the last.

"You're telling me." Laughing again, Jessy leaned in close and motioned for Eric to lean in as well. "But what's truly disturbing is this was something done by hunters. Freaky shit like this? Vampires do this sort of stuff, the witch ones. Begotten are... well, you know them." With an eye roll and a flick of her wrist toward the two monsters, she continued. "And I'm sure you Uratha do some weird stuff. Dance in the moonlight naked, and devour the raw flesh of your prey, or some weird insanity, right? But humans doing that, is weird. And..."

And horrifying. Vampires, werewolves, monsters, they lived and breathed such absurdities, because it was in their nature. Even vampires, relatively normal and nearly human, compared to the other two, got their hands dirty with some pretty disturbing shit. Humans had no business getting into that stuff, and if they could, what the fuck was wrong with them? Like cannibals in the woods, disturbing on a level monsters like Jack and his companions in the booth could never hope to reach.

Be afraid of vampires, of werewolves, of monsters, sure. But being afraid of humans was like being afraid of your neighbor. It was sickening, and he didn't wish that fate on anyone. No wonder that episode 'Home' from X-Files was so fucking scary.

"So, what's the plan?" Fiona said, leaning in. "I... I dinnae ken if... I dinnae ken if ye should go there, nae alone. B-But if ye go as a crew, they might catch ye, and it'll be dangerous for other reasons."

Damien nodded. "If only it was as easy as simply walking through the city and removing them. Unfortunately, they know our weakness, and they seem to have tools to deal with us."

"Your elders could—"

Jack raised a hand, cutting Athalia off. "If shit hits the fan, or we get solid evidence, they'll step in. But elders don't risk their lives on a whim. Much as I hate that we have back up we can't use, I can't ask for Garry or Maria or Michael, or the Prince or Jacob, or even Julias, to throw in their weight until we have something better to go on." And besides, elders weren't gods, they weren't invincible. He saw that first hand, too many times. Much as he hated that he knew they'd refuse to help until they had better evidence, he hated that he agreed with them all the more.

The covenants needed their rulers, or they'd collapse in a vacuum, or to each other. What a bitter truth.

"I'll talk to Isabella," he said. "Or Hella, rather. I know Hella likes to dig into Devil's Corner occasionally. So does Vicky and Parker. I'll talk to them." They ran some sex holes in Devil's Corner, so maybe they knew something.

The rest of the meeting went about as well as planned. With a new target, Devil's Corner, as the focus of their search, they had something to work toward. Athalia and Fiona would provide some support, and Jack was to come to the Azamel if he found Jeremiah. He could report back what he found to Julias, and see what they decided. It'd be what Jack figured, though.

Like Antoinette told him, learn to predict his superiors. Just, he knew they'd also try and take advantage of the situation in ways he couldn't predict; the Danse Macabre was a bitch.

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~~Eric~~

"You look different," his dad said.

Eric shrugged, and turned to look at the TV. Baseball again.

"You don't."

His dad shrugged. Probably where he got the habit from, when combined with the look-away. Delightful way to say 'don't fucking care'. "How's your new job treating you?"

"Good, and bad, I guess." Eric leaned back in the visitor's chair, and took a moment to look around at the hospital room. Not much had changed since the last time he was here. Nothing had changed since the last time he was here. His dad had made no effort to get up off his fat ass, and Eric's money was giving him an avenue to continue eating crap.

He should tell the nurses to only give him shitty hospital food; which, he supposed, they were probably supposed to be. Maybe he was bribing them, to get more crap shit sneaked in. Eric should follow up, and see if he could make his dad's life more miserable. At least it'd save his stupid life and get him off the shitty food.

"What's bad?"

"The company that's hired me wants to do a song and dance."

"Like back in the day? You gettin' on camera again?"

Eric shuddered. "No. I may be in a bit of a spotlight with these money types, though." Money types described the vampires well enough. What type were the werewolves and monsters? Pains in the ass, for sure, but the vampires were easier for him to understand. Dealing with news crews, lawyers and accountants, the media, and celebrities, fit right into dealing with the undead fuckers.

He sighed, and looked up at the tile ceiling. Jessy put a small hole into that approach. She was the sort of woman he could trust, more than others. Came at him straight, put things into a realistic perspective, and gave him some options too. Play the field, she said. You have the power to defend yourself and pursue your own agenda now, she said.

His dad changed the channel. The news, volume low, captions on. Old habit again, or he was looking to continue the conversation.

"Make any friends?" the old man said. Guess he wanted to continue the conversation. Talkative today.

"In a way."

"Woman?"

"A couple."

"Don't fuck it up like you did with Sheryl."

Sheryl. Just the mention of her name made his knee tense, which made his whole body tense in preparation for the pain... that never came. Healed. Silver lining to all this hell.

"My knee is feeling great lately, thanks for asking," he said. He was starting to wonder if maybe he should fake a limp, before someone started asking questions about the knee.

"She's not to blame for the knee, boy. And I meant, you and Sheryl were a horrible pair. Do better this time."

"I'll get right on that."

"Seen a few cute doctors around here. Go ask one out."

"Think I'll pass, dad."

The old man rolled his eyes, groaned, and erupted into coughs. He winced once the grotesque noises passed, and scratched at the IV needle in his arm.

"When'll I be getting out of here?"

"When your health starts to bounce back. Think you can stop eating cheeseburgers and potato chips for a few fucking days?"

"Son, let me do what I want, would you? I've lived this long—"

"You'd be dead if I didn't interfere."

"Says you. Remember O'Malley? Man lived to be eighty-nine years old, smoking every day of his life. Came out of his momma's cooch with a cigarette between his lips."

The idiot said it without irony. No point in trying to explain survivor bias to his stupid father. No point in trying to explain how pathetic it was, to trust the things you see with your eyes, as a representation of general truths. So, Eric sighed, shrugged, and looked back to the TV. Some other place in the world was burning to the ground. Wonderful.

If Eric pushed him, said something like 'fine, let's go, I'll take you home', his dad would probably die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he'd deteriorate into a fat tub of lard until his heart gave up or his blood-sugar levels destroyed him from the inside out. And his dad didn't want that. Stubborn and stupid as he was, he didn't want that. But he was stubborn enough that, if Eric pushed him on it, the dumbass would agree to go home, and be done with the hospital.

Every time Eric was in the hospital, he juggled that fucking option in his mind. Keep his dad alive, because he knew his dad wanted to live, despite his stupidity and resistance. Or, let his dad die due to his own incompetence and laziness. Let him die, so he'd be out of your life. Just an anchor holding you down.

Anchor that kept you from going adrift in a storm.

"Question for you, pops."

"Yeah? Thought you got the world figured out by now, don't need no advice from anyone."

"Yeah, well, lot of weird shit happening to me lately, making me question my omniscience."

"Fine, ask away."

"What would you do, if you were being asked to pick sides in a cold war? Got a few groups of people... pushing for money, business acquisition type stuff. Some of them are your typical money snakes. Some others are honest, but I don't trust them to not get rough, maybe even break some knees. And the others are—"

Steps at the door cut him off. "Oh, this has got to be good. What are we in your hilariously inaccurate breakdown?"

Eric froze, and looked to the door. Athalia.

"This fine lady looking for your help, Eric?" His old man sat up in bed, and winked at her.

She laughed.

Eric raised a brow at her. He didn't know her well, but from that meeting last night, it seemed like everyone expected her to be a cold bitch. Nothing wrong with some ice, and Eric could do with some ice in his life about now anyway. Refreshing, when everyone else was trying to get him on their side.

But the look on her face, as she looked between him, and his father in the hospital bed, wasn't ice. She smiled at his father, and tossed her hair over her shoulder a little. Flirting with the old man; not something an icy woman would do. Most definitely not the same woman who punched some sense into him when he was transformed. Not the same woman who had some sort of undead god horror inside her. And yet, he knew she was, he could feel it, could almost smell the disgusting waves of unadulterated terror made manifest dripping from her pores.

"I was going to say," Eric said, "you're something of the underdog, I guess. An underdog with nothing to lose." He got up, walked over to the monster, and frowned at her. "Makes you dangerous."

"Son, stupid boy, gonna introduce us or not."

Fucking hell. If only the old man knew who or what this woman was. Not like Eric could share that information with him. And what the hell was she doing here anyway? The only people who should know about this part of his life were people either tracking his finances, like the Invictus, or people following him. He expected Avery to be following him, to have someone tail him, though he hadn't seen or smelled anyone yet. The last thing he expected was a Begotten to show up.

"Don't mind Eric," she said. "I'm Athalia. And I got plenty to lose."

"What're you doing here?"

"Came to see you."

Why? He almost asked it, but a look in her eye made the answer obvious. To talk about dangerous shit. Sighing, he motioned to the door with his head.

"I'll be back before I leave, dad. I—"

"Boy, get out and go hang with the beautiful lady. Get me some fucking grandkids already, for Christ's sake."

A lovely way to be dismissed by his dad. Better than usual, he supposed, with the two of them usually growing increasingly irate until he simply had to leave. And Athalia's laughter was a delightful sound; not much of that going on in the hospital.

Rolling his eyes, Eric stepped into the hallway with Athalia, and the two of them made their way to the cafeteria. Big hospital with a lot of money meant a nice cafeteria for visitors and patients. The staff had their own he figured, since no nurses or doctors were around. Plenty of seating, too.

"You know," he said, sitting down at one of the tables by a window, "I was in a hospital when I was younger."

"Oh?" Ice expression returned, Athalia leaned back in her seat, and looked out the window. The hospital had a small garden view, a grassy area in the center, between its halls and walls.

"Terrence Hospital. Run down, horrible, barely functioning." It was easy to argue for premium health care if you had money to spend on it. He'd seen the other side of the fence. "It's almost sickening, how much better this is." South Center Hospital might as well have been hospital care for royalty, as far as Eric's upbringing could tell.

"I was there, once, when I was younger. Terrence Hospital, I mean. Pretty sure, if it wasn't for my horror, I would have walked away from that hospital with an infection and disease on top of the wound."

He smiled. Yeah, he got that. "What kind of wound?"

"Dislocated my shoulder."

"Sports?"

"Fighting."

"I—"

"Not fighting for a sport, like you. I got into it with some bully when I was younger. This was before Angela."

He kept a straight face when she said her daughter's name, but it wasn't easy. "South Center is... the people here are spoiled."

"Very."

"How did you find me?"

"Not telling."

"Why?"

"Because, it's my prerogative as a monster. You'll never understand, anyway."

"I get the impression you don't like me very much, Athalia."

"I don't. You're a dog, and all of your kind are aggressive brutes, incapable of controlling your impulses."

If he didn't know any better, he'd think that was a sexist statement, more than a racist one. But he noticed a lot of frustrated, annoyed looks at Jessy too, during the meeting. And Jack. And Damien. Only person she seemed ok with was Fiona; maybe because everyone liked Fiona, or because she had issues with werewolves and vampires. She apparently disliked werewolves, so the extrapolation was reasonable.

Fuck, stop running the thoughts through your head. What did Avery say, that Cahaliths like to narrate their thoughts, like spinning a story? Fucking stop it.

"Alright, so, why are you here?"

"Came here to re-offer Azamel's offer."

Ugh, this shit again. "I'm not taking any sides in anything, Athalia."

"That's just it. The vamps think this is about sides, and the fucking dogs think this is about sides. It's not like that for us."

"You telling me you're all free agents? Seems like you all work for Azamel."

"She guards us, but we don't work for her. And we're not a family, not a pack, not really." Shrugging, she got up, and walked over to the selection of food. A few minutes later, she came back with some fruit, and a sandwich with beef.

The look of it turned Eric's stomach. The beef was alright, but the rest of it? He didn't want it. In the past, he'd have wanted it. The fruit would have looked delicious, and the bread, an enticing base for other flavors to compliment. Now it looked like the shit prey ate. Athalia enjoyed it well enough, though.

"Surprised you're eating that."

"It tastes good."

"Do you need to eat?"

"I eat." She smirked at him, and took a bite of the sandwich. "I feast on destruction."

"... destruction?"

She leaned in closer, and glared into his eyes, piercing him. Sheryl used to give him that look, when she was ready to literally pierce his eyes with her stiletto heels. A mix of condescension and anger, wrapped in a layer of ice. Unnerving.

"That's the problem. That's why I don't trust you, or the vamps, as you've no doubt noticed. You're just animals, looking for food. Begotten are more than that."

His turn to lean back, and sneer. "Wanna fill me in?"

"No, but, Azamel thinks you can be of value to us, so... Jesus, explaining this is like explaining science to an infant."

This woman was begging to be hated. It was an act he knew well, too, actively making people hate you, so you could avoid ever having to connect with someone. No one can hurt you as much as a friend, so, better to not make friends. He didn't want to agree, but, sometimes he did.

"I am basically an infant, in this new, fucked up world, Athalia."

"... true." She took another bite, and looked out the window. Felt like the sandwich was just a precursor to conversation for this woman, as if she didn't need it. "Werewolves want to hunt, patrol, do their duty. Vampires have their squabbles and political agendas. You know what Begotten want?" She didn't look his way. Rhetorical question. He almost answered it anyway, just to piss her off. But that was the old him, and the least he could do was shut up and listen. "We want to exist."

"Sounds simple enough."

"So you'd think. It's not." She turned to him again, and leaned in. "I get the impression that's all you want, too. You don't want to serve in any vampire wars, and you don't want to be doing some ancient duty for some ancestor you had nothing to do with." Another bite. "No rules, no organizations, none of that shit. We want to exist, to eat, and be left alone. You want similar, and fuck me, if I didn't see that, I wouldn't be here. It's what you want, and it's what we Begotten want. So consider Azamel's offer, and all we'll ask of you is to be there for us if people try and kill us. Otherwise, you do whatever the fuck you want."

He frowned, and looked out the window too. Yeah, she had him pegged. He didn't want any of the bullshit the Uratha or Kindred brought. He just wanted to fucking exist, do his own thing, and eat and fuck and sleep and be left the fuck alone.

"... I'll consider it."

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~~Beatrice~~

Ok, that was enough fucking for a while.

Beatrice sat up, and looked around. Jen was between her and Julias, and they were all naked. The room smelled of sex and blood and flesh. Not theirs of course; that all faded away once it was off the vamp's body, fake stuff created by the blush of life. Julias had brought some of his servants into the guest bedroom, where they'd decided to fuck like rabbits. Yummy yum.

Two guys, two girls, passed out on the floor. Each had been drunk to exhaustion, and each thoroughly satisfied by fingers and tongues. Julias had watched, for the most part, while Triss and Jen had indulged in the four kine. Making the kine cum on each other, while drinking them, was such a power trip, and Triss delighted in it. So much easier to be a Ventrue than a Nosferatu, when all you had to do for a good time was look a kine in the eye, and tell them what to do.

Triss smiled at Jen, and snuggled into her side. Julias did the same, but he reached over, and pushed her onto her side, facing Triss, before he scooted into her back. Classic spoon position.

She was never going to get over how weird this relationship was. Jen got it; she slept with a pair of ghouls on a regular basis, before Triss came along. Julias got it; he was sleeping with kine all the time before Triss came along, sometimes two at a time. Antoinette got it, with her two little pet girly ghouls. Heh, what a kink, dominatrix with her harem. Jack must have been loving it, if he liked being a sub anyway. Clearly, Antoinette enjoyed being in charge, in and out of the bedroom.

Triss put a claw to her necklace, and flicked it. It was silent. Good. As long as the necklace was silent, she wasn't worried.

Jen smiled at her, reached out, and pulled her in. Bed hugs were weird to do, with the mattress blocking one arm, so Jen used the one arm to pull her in. Triss still had her nipple chain on — Jen's usual request — and it rubbed against Jen's larger breasts. Hard nipples. Sighing, relaxed, happy, Triss let the Ventrue pull her in snug, until their chests were tight to each other.

"How do you know if the ritual's working, if no one triggers it?" Jen said.

"I can feel it. In the blood, in the bones." Gave her a damn thrill, feeling blood magic working through her, through the necklace on her neck, through everything connected to her.

"I wonder what that's like. I—oh!" With a squeak, Jen looked over her shoulder, to Julias.

The bastard grinned at her, then at Triss, and began moving his hips back and forth. Jen was reduced to moans in seconds. Surprise sex! Well, leave it to Julias to be bold when the mood struck him.

"How the fuck are you not satisfied?" Triss said.