My Little Ventrue Pt. 06 Ch. 12

That's what it felt like, crashing his will against this woman. This maniac was barely human, but she was human still. That meant, for all her boasting, all her will, all her determination, she was limited by what she was. He took that part of her, the human part, and squeezed on it, found the foundation of the wall she'd built, and hammered his will on it. It was like trying to break through rock with his teeth, but he did it again, and again, until he felt his insides begin to vibrate.

"Break... upon... me," he said through clenched teeth. No one could hear him except him, and the woman trapped in his mental grip. His voice echoed in her mind like a cannon; he could hear her thoughts, except that they were buried underneath the thunderous echo of his own, crashing upon her will. She would break, he gave her no choice. The howling winds and roaring explosions of his resolve, his thoughts, his words, slammed into the pillars of her psyche again, and again, and soon her trembling shakes were in sync with his hammering Domination.

And he broke down her gates with all the subtlety of a battering ram. This was how Viktor broke minds, and how the man had originally taught him to. Human minds were ants to be crushed, nothing more, according to his sire. They had no Beast, nothing in them that protected them from the overwhelming, alien power of the monster inside Kindred, or Uratha, or Begotten, or whatever else crept around in the dark. Humans had nothing like that. And this Angela, despite her strange mental state, despite the oddity of her, her personality, her everything, was human.

He crushed her, and grabbed her mind.

"Break the line."

"Yes..." With a slow nod, Angela set her foot against the black line of soot, and nudged it open.

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~~Antoinette~~

"Flesh magic?" she said.

"Y-Yeah. I... I can't think of any other w-w-way to p-put it. It was flesh. The walls, the floor, the... the b-b-bones, it was all flesh, and other... things you find inside a person."

Antoinette frowned and leaned back in her seat. Natasha was down with her in their primary experimentation room, chandelier above, empty summoning and resonance circle behind them. The details of her encounter could wait for tomorrow night, but tomorrow night was likely to be filled with talk of Samantha Terry. It was better to learn of this now, and she could ruminate upon the information while handling her new childe.

A small piece of her bubbled with excitement over the prospect of a new childe. How many years had it been since she tired Tony? She could not recall the date, but it must have been over two centuries. To have a new childe, a woman of maturity nonetheless, someone she could both teach, but also indulge in conversations her ghouls could not appreciate, was exciting indeed. And above all, it would make her love happy.

Tiny smiles sneaked their way onto her face mid conversation. She would consider siring Ashley and Julee in the future, but the two were still content to simply enjoy the freedom she gave them: immortality, sex, money, education, fashion, and anything their whimsical hearts desired. And she was content to enjoy their glee by proxy. With Samantha it would be different. Everything would be different.

She forced her mind back to the topic at hand, as unsavory as it was. "What you describe can only be the creation of magic."

"M-M-Magic is... I'd... I w-wish there was a more scientific explanation."

"As do I." That was one of the goals of the Ordo Dracul, to discover, document, and understand the mysterious workings of the universe. To lump the unexplainable under the title 'magic' was doing a disservice to her order, and the universe at large. But, that did not change that some acts were so alien and obtuse, that they defied any explanation she had available, her or her order. A room made of flesh, a living, breathing, pulsating room with ribs, and dangling chains with bodies hooked upon them, was magical, and abhorrent.

"For now," she continued, "we will call it magic, flesh magic if you will, until we discover how the witch Elen is performing these acts. Is she communicating with an entity from another realm? Perhaps there is a wavelength of energy she has learned to sense that we have not, and she manipulates it. There are humans that can see colors that others cannot."

"That... that um, d-doesn't sound... comparable." Natasha squirmed in her seat, and fidgeted with one of the tablets Antoinette had provided, scrolling through texts relevant to the topic. There were not many, but there were some, talks of strange magics that revolved around the manipulation of living flesh. Living was the key to it, as far as the texts suggested. It was not magic that could be performed on the dead or undead, but only those with living, breathing bodies, and souls within; or bodies who had died within the past few minutes. If Elen was performing this magic, and that was indeed what seemed to be happening, that was her limitation.

The report the Invictus had shared with her said that, while Elen was going to perform her magic upon Eric, she was not going to do so to Jack; they had resorted to torture with her beloved. Eric was alive, while Jack was undead. A pattern, perhaps, proving that Elen was bound by that rule.

"No, I suppose it does not." With a long sigh, Antoinette leaned back in her chair and looked up at the dangling chandelier. It produced a white light, but she could change its color to allow her tablets, and the complicated software and delicate lenses they used, to view the usually invisible substance ephemera. Such discoveries were a step toward understanding the madness others called magic, and that she too, was forced to call magic in the meantime. Frustrating.

She could still remember when Lucas had summoned a literal bolt of lightning, and struck her with it. But it had not burned her. It had suppressed her powers, locked her vitae to her insides, blocked her from using it to extend her will outside of her. It had nearly spelled her doom.

"What interests me more than this flesh chamber," Antoinette said, "is what you have discovered about the Begotten. If Elen was indeed controlling him through something she was carving on his back, which Daniel's discoveries of her sacrifice rituals suggests is quite within the realm of possibilities, then that is an opportunity."

"We could free him!" Tash sat upright a little straighter, a hint of resolve crossing her young face as she nodded.

"Oui, perhaps we could. That would be invaluable, and likely turn this strange war we have found ourselves in, deep in our favor."

"That would b-be so great. And... and..."

"Mmm?"

"He was... very p-pretty."

Antoinette laughed, and shook her head. "Little Vola, you already have two strapping men in your bed every night."

"N-No! Not for me. Just, he was v-very pretty. I bet he'd... you know, f-fit in Dolareido."

"Ah, he had that look, did he?"

"Well, he was shirtless!" She threw up her hands, as if that justified her apparent inability to not think of the man through a sexual lens. "He, umm, Aaron said-d that he looked and sound Romanian. He had blue eyes, and short b-black hair, buzzed, like Jack's. Normal height, and... athletic."

Ah, athletic. Perhaps it was her long friendship with Jessy Herrington that had sparked the girl's interest in masculine physiques. Or Antoinette had simply underestimated the size of the small woman's sex drive before she got to know her, underestimating her and her almost cliché — but terribly cute — desire to be small in the arms of her large, powerful, deadly lovers.

Except they were not lovers, not yet. Plenty of sex to be had, but as far as Natasha had mentioned, it had not entered the territory of love yet. Would it? Antoinette feared for her, as a woman being shared by two men was a difficult thing to manage, when love entered the equation. But if she could make it work, all the power to her.

"Perhaps he can be rescued. Perhaps not. If this shaman has managed to ensnare a Begotten, true monsters, beings of literal nightmares, understand that saving him may not be possible. And, sad as it is, if the circumstance arises, we must prioritize the lives of our Kindred over his."

"B-But we'll try, right?"

Smiling, Antoinette nodded again. "We will try." The tactical advantage alone warranted the attempt, let alone freeing a fellow paranormal from the hunter psychopaths.

"Any idea ab-b-bout this?" Tash said, with a gesture to the small jar of blood on the counter.

Antoinette scooped it up. Tilting it from side to side revealed no abnormalities; it looked like normal human blood. Kindred blood was darker, thicker, and it acted with a will of its own, determined to keep the host healthy and in one piece. This was not that. This was a jar of thick, red water that moved with gravity and the laws of liquids, nothing more.

"I presume, once this is analyzed, we will find the blood of many humans. I also presume it will also show signs of rot, now that it has been removed from its body."

"That chamber w-was a... b-b-body?"

"Based on what you described, I can only assume it was some sort of body. It had skin and flesh of its own, and a sentience, displayed in the reaction of those faces on the wall. I can only surmise that Elen has either created or discovered this entity. I... would not be surprised, if this old woman has created it, through decades of effort, and the murder of others." If murder was the correct word. Perhaps she had merged them, combined them, like some sort of alien entity found in a science fiction fantasy. "Based on the drawings Daniel has collected, and now our understanding of her powers, at least in relation to flesh, and what she tried to do to Eric, we must assume that she works powers in regards to flesh. She not only treats it as a mechanic treats a vehicle, but she treats it like she were a whisperer, someone who can speak to what others cannot."

"B-Because she... she said... things about..."

"Assuming the reports of your friend Herrington, Eric, and Clara are decently accurate, then this Elen shaman has discovered something truly mysterious about the power of flesh. I wish to know more, as will Jacob."

"W... Will you tell him stuff y-you learn, if we capture her first?"

"That is a good question, Miss Vola. Will I tell Jacob." The question deserved pondering, and she sat there for a minute, looking down at the table as she tapped her finger upon it. "I imagine not, honestly. The man cannot be trusted."

"B-B-But... he's your old friend." As much as she was arguing in the man's favor, Vola's face betrayed her views of him. She did not like the old Nosferatu.

"Jacob has not been a true friend in... I suppose that is not correct, or fair of me." She tapped a finger against her chin, and smiled at Vola. "He aided me, in creating the wild goose chase that Tony and Viktor pursued, which led to their demise."

Natasha's jaw dropped as she pieced together the implications of that. Antoinette had arranged for Tony and Viktor to clash, and Jacob had joined her in that pursuit. Two elders had conspired to kill two other elders in the city, and had done so without ever giving up their identities. The Danse Macabre could be deadly, and she could play it like no other.

"You're... a d-d-dangerous woman, Prince."

"Oui, c'est vrai." She nodded, acknowledging the fact. No harm in letting the small Mekhet offer her ego some gentle strokes. "I—" Her phone rang. Sighing, Antoinette picked it up. Daniel's ring. He would not call without good reason, same as his childe. "Yes Daniel, what is it?"

"Ann, one of Jack's crows showed up."

"That is peculiar."

"And there's a massive blackout in the city. A few blocks are without power, and that includes South Center Hospital."

Antoinette growled into the phone, and clenched on it. It took will to not shatter it to pieces. "Then we go."

"There's only an hour till sunrise, Annie."

"That is more than enough time to dismember whoever is responsible." She got up and started marching out the door. "I assume communications are down?"

Natasha hopped up, and looked around in a panic, grabbing her sword and pistol quickly before jogging to catch up to the Prince.

"Yes," Daniel said.

"Then you will find and fix this issue, and slaughter any hunters you find. I will go to the hospital."

"We should send some thralls to—"

"I am going, Daniel. I have been hands-off in this affair long enough. These vermin think they can exploit my love and his youth by attacking his mother. I am going to tear them apart, limb by limb."

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~~Jack~~

Jack could feel his sire smashing his will against Angela's, and it was awe inspiring. Dominate was normally a subtle skill, and not a Masquerade violation due to how impossible it was to see. Unless a Mekhet was using Auspex to spy on the paranormal activity, Dominate was a hidden talent that seemed like nothing more than a man speaking convincing words.

This wasn't subtle. Jack could feel this. Jack could almost hear this. There was the thud thud of Angela's heartbeat, and in the dead silence, he was sure he could hear something crashing in rhythm with it. Julias's mind was slamming into her, battering against her, smashing through her mental gates, and from this close, Jack could feel the waves of the Kindred energy pour out of him. This was a side of Julias he'd never seen. Always his sire was about subtle decisions, spending energy where it was best served, never ridiculous expenditures. This was not that. This was like that time Viktor had summoned an army of rats, to allow the three of them to storm Tony's position, a surreal display of insanity.

"Break the line," his sire said.

Angela twitched, the eyelid over her glass eye fidgeting. Even now, as the century-old Kindred destroyed her defenses and grabbed her mind, she resisted. The will this woman could muster was nuts, something no human should have been able to do. Werewolves, vampires, monsters, and probably other things Jack had yet to see, they could stand up in a fight like this, be a part of it, instead of a simple sack of meat as kine always were. Angela had no right to be able to resist them like she was. But, despite whatever it was that blocked Jack, Julias broke through it, and Angela moved her foot just enough, to push a small gap into the black powder at her feet.

The barrier Jack had his hand against fell away. From this close, he had the warning about what was happening, and he let a smile sneak onto his lips, as his hand fell to his side. His pistol hand brought up the gun, pointed it at Angela's face, and fired. No hesitation this time, no mistakes. Execute her, be done with it, and dance in the river of her blood once his mom was safe.

Except, the bullet didn't land. Angela's body fell like a sack of rocks, hitting the ground hard as a blur of movement tackled her legs from behind, bullet cutting through her forehead but not penetrating. Julias, Angela, and one of the hunters rolled over each other in a mess of limbs and grunts. Jack was soon included in the mess, as the diving hunter half spun with their tackle, legs out to the side, and slamming into Jack's legs.

He wouldn't let this happen, not again. As he fell, he caught his weight onto open hand, the rest of his weight rolling onto his elbow and side. He pointed the gun at the mess of bodies, and started firing.

Some bullets hit Julias. He knew it'd happen, and he fired anyway. He saw where his sire's head was, though, and as long as he didn't turn the man's skull into splatter art, Julias would be fine. Other bullets slammed into the mess of limbs, most hitting the hunter that had tackled them, and hitting what Jack guessed was kevlar underneath his jacket. Damn it.

The whole situation lasted three seconds. By then, the other hunters had responded. Jack was forced to turn around, and roll to the side, putting the original wall corner he'd used as cover between him and the hunters. A good thing, because Bill and Zak both came out of his mother's room, guns blazing, unloading a flurry of bullets into the wall corner Jack was hiding behind. At least Olivia stayed at the circle Bill had painted. Her hand was pressed to its center, and there was a gentle, amber glow on her fingers. He'd love to shoot her and stop whatever it was she was doing, but bullets smashed into the wall corner, shredding it, and forcing Jack back into hiding.

The hunter on the other side of the hall, standing by his own line of black powder, ran their way, and started unloading his shotgun. This one came closer, and closer, unloading shell after shell at Jack, until he came around the corner to join him. Pure aggression. This hunter had balls, using the suppressing spray of his shotgun — sawed off, evidently — to pin Jack back until he had to retreat to one of the doors behind him. Jack threw the door open, and ducked in around the door frame, before poking his head out enough to start firing at the incoming asshole.

A quick glance past the shotgun wielder, showed Julias in the corner of the hall, wrestling with Angela. It didn't last long. Even a Ventrue was a lot stronger than a human physically, especially if they were ancilla, and especially if the human had been shot. The bastards were wearing bulletproof vests, but there was still blood, some of Jack's bullets having hit their limbs. Angela was bleeding from the head, but now also from the arm, and the hunter who tackled them was bleeding from the leg. Julias stood up, and despite the hole in his stomach and leg that Jack put there, the man held both kine by the throat, one for each hand; must have dropped his pistol in the mess. Their legs dangled, and Angela slammed her foot up to kick him in the crotch.

He was a Ventrue though. Only the Gangrel matched their Resilience, and Angela's reflex probably didn't take that account. Julias barely reacted, and glared at the two humans in his grip.

"You. Kill them." Julias nodded toward the man in his hand, and dropped him.

The kine collapsed, his leg almost gushing blood from the impact. But once he was down, he pulled out his pistol, and started firing. First, at the kine with the shotgun approaching Jack. In the chaos, the hunter put every bullet into the hunter's back; headshots would have been better, but he was probably aiming for center of mass, or resisting Julias's snappy mind control as best he could. It was enough to send the man with the shotgun onto his face, though. And that was enough for Jack to shoot the man in the skull when he landed.

There was a flash moment, a single instance of time, and it stood out with a white background, scarring Jack's eyes. The moment the bullet slammed into the man's skull, and the splatter of blood and brain matter rained over the hospital floor around him, the world froze. It was for a moment, a single moment, but it was long enough for Jack to notice it, and long enough to hear the growling chuckle that came with it.

His growl. His chuckle. It didn't sound like him.

Julias still held Angela, and she was his shield between him and the three hunters still outside his mother's room. But, even as he held her, an animal snarl escaping him, he squeezed the woman's throat harder, eyes glancing between her and the other hunters. The hunter at his feet and under his control broke the momentary standoff, turning to face the other hunters, and he started firing. Jack couldn't see the other hunters from his new position, himself halfway in a patient's room and down the hall toward where he'd originally come from, but he could hear them. They must have been hiding in his mom's room, out of the dominated hunter's line of sight.