My Little Ventrue Pt. 06 Ch. 14

"I can still remember the first time I met you," he said. "A tiny little thing, fast, shot me when my guard was down."

She raised a brow as she looked over her shoulder at him. That was a strange direction to take the conversation.

"I... I—"

"Now, you're a dragon, going on missions with the sheriff of the city. And you have two boyfriends." With a tiny smile that almost didn't exist, he held up two fingers and showed them to her. "Two. Werewolves at that."

She blinked at him. "I... I g-guess I changed. Why are you—"

"I've changed too, haven't I?" Smile destroyed. He looked around at the walls, and despite how the rooms they passed were far more appealing than cells, with living rooms with couches, fancy lighting, paintings and the like, he still looked nervous. More than once, he glanced over his shoulder, checking the stairs and hallway behind him.

"Y-Yes, of course."

"The Prince doesn't seem to think so. Half the time I was with her tonight, I expected her to rip off my head, literally."

"She..." Tash looked down, and juggled the thoughts for a while as she guided Damien to a guest room. It was a small room, a bed and nothing more. A great bed though, and the room locked from the inside, with a normal door lever lock, and an actual barricade bar. A guest room meant for vampires. "She's old, D-Damien, very old. Give her time."

"We're old, too."

She laughed at that as she stood in the doorway. It died away, as the night's events weighed on her. "You know it's n-not the same."

"No, I suppose it isn't." Damien looked around at the room, before he turned to face her, hands reaching for the door. "Julias is dead, Natasha, killed by hunters. Jack has gone The Shining on us, and yet the Prince is still looking at me like I'm the threat."

"I'll... I'll t-talk to her."

His small smile returned, partly. "Thanks."

She left, and he closed the door behind her. Only once she heard the sound of metal clicking, did she let her head drop, and her hands find her shoulders, hugging herself.

Julias was dead. Mister Mire. Her friend, companion, a man she could always rely on to be fair, straight, honorable, and dependable. A man who'd helped her so many times when she was in the Invictus, lent her a hand countless times. He was dead.

She found her bed, curled up on it, and buried her face in her hands. Sobs crept up through her body, up her spine, into her lungs, and into her core. Before she knew it, they were in her neck, and up into her head where she could no longer stop them. She cried, dry sobs she hid in her palms. No, not Julias. No. No no no.

Oh god, what would she tell Jessy? Oh god oh god, what would... what would Triss do? And Maria and Michael, they'd be beyond upset. And... and... oh god.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, and shook with the trembling clenches of crying, until sunrise came.

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~~Antoinette~~

The last thing Antoinette did, before setting Samantha on the bed next to her, was send Beatrice a message. 'Come to the tower, the moment the sun sets. Immediately.' That was not a conversation she looked forward to having.

But, it would be some time before Beatrice arrived tomorrow night. In the mean time, she had other problems to deal with. Problems, but also, a great delight.

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As sunset arrived, announcing the next night, she slowly sat up from her bed. She had long learned how to manage the surge of the nightly awakening with grace, and she used the wave to propel herself to action. Within seconds, she was out of bed, and adjusting her clothes. She had changed into a clean suit, before settling for the day, as Kindred did not move during their daily torpor. Her suit was immaculate. She, on the other hand, was nervous. It was not a feeling she was accustomed to.

She smiled down at Samantha, and waited. Put aside the grief and misery, bury it, and focus on the moment. Julias did not die. Jack is not waiting in a cell for you, with a stake in his heart. He had not performed a massive Masquerade violation. A monster is not in your deepest, darkest prison, waiting to be interrogated. None of that existed. All that existed, was this moment.

Samantha opened her eyes.

"Bonjour," Antoinette said, voice as soft as she could manage.

The woman was still dressed in the hospital gown; it was better this way, so Antoinette could add some evidence to the testimony she was doubtless going to give in this conversation.

"I... I... w-where..." The woman was only an inch shorter than Jack, but Jack was a small fellow, so his mother was perhaps an inch or two shorter than the average woman. She was thin and lean, like her son, but with the hips and legs that came with age and motherhood. Her hair was brown, with some curves and waves weaved into it, damaged by the trauma of the past two days.

She looked to Antoinette, and the vampire froze. Those eyes. Those green eyes. Jack's eyes, on a soft face. They went wide as she stared at her, and looked her up and down a few times. Antoinette's great height, red eyes, and long white hair caught her off guard, as expected. So Antoinette waited, giving the woman several seconds more, before continuing.

"Samantha Terry. What is the last thing you remember?"

"I... god, I... I... oh god." She brought her knees up to her chest, hugged them, and set her chin upon them. "My little... my little girl... oh god."

Then Angela killed Mary first. A disgusting, cruel, heartless woman, to make a mother watch her daughter die. No parent should ever have to see their child die. Ever.

Poor Athalia.

Sighing, Antoinette walked over to her cabinet and desk against the black marble wall, took the chair, and pulled it over to the bed to sit. "I am sorry, Miss Terry, but your daughter is gone."

The woman trembled, and continued to hide her forehead against her arm, the rest of her face hidden behind her knees. It was several minutes before the quivering woman found her voice.

"Everyone's gone," she said, voice breaking with the rise of sorrow. "All gone. I... I can't... I..."

Antoinette reached out, and set a hand on the woman's shoulder. "You are not alone, Miss Terry. I—"

"My family is dead!" she screamed, lifting her face and glaring up at her. The softness of her visage was stricken, destroyed. "I don't even know you. Don't give me that shit. I—"

"Samantha." With a slow, gentle sigh, Antoinette pulled her hand back, and offered her grieving childe a small smile. "I was not referring to myself."

"W-What? I... I don't understand."

To guide this woman's fragile mind would be difficult. Antoinette considered carefully, before speaking. "You and your daughter were assaulted two days ago."

"Two days? But... but I remember... I remember being stabbed, again and again and—" She lowered her legs, and pulled up her hospital gown, with no concern that Antoinette could see her bare genitals for the act. Unlike Jack, who'd been stabbed literal moments before Julias sired him, Samantha's stomach wounds had healed as part of her embrace. "God, I'm so pale. And... and... oh god, I—"

"Your world has been changed, Samantha Terry. I changed it. And I changed it without your consent. For that, I must apologize and ask for your forgiveness. But, explanations can wait. For now, I need your help."

The small woman stared at her, confused and paralyzed. There was anger there, wanting to lash out, but it took only a moment to see that this Samantha creature was too gentle to explode with rage or fury. No, this woman would curl into a ball, pull her sorrow inward, and wither away, if given the chance. A soft, delicate woman, hardened by her life but still a tender, loving creature. She did not have the drive that Antoinette would have looked for in a potential childe, but then, perhaps that was for the best.

"M-My help? Y... You mean, to help catch the... the woman that... k-killed..." Her whole body started trembling again, and she started to curl up once more.

Antoinette could not have that. She reached out, and grabbed the woman's wrist.

"No. We know very well who killed your daughter, and have been hunting her and her group for some time. You and your daughter are unfortunate victims of her war."

The small woman stared at Antoinette, obviously wanting to pull her arm back, but refusing to. Timid. Docile. It would take time to help this woman overcome her natural, accommodating attitude.

"Then I... I don't understand what I can do."

"Come with me. All your questions will be answered, and you will be fed, once you have done for me this one task."

Samantha's eyes widened at the mention of 'fed'. A new Kindred, a fresh fledgling, would no doubt be starving, in need of blood, and soon. But some stored blood would suffice, and the woman would not need it immediately. She was not Jack, and not of his bloodline. Her Beast would not send her into a frenzy on her first night so swiftly.

Antoinette felt her eye twitch as the thought ran across her mind. Jack's Beast. The boy had gone into a frenzy on his first night, despite Julias sharing with him his stored blood. It should not have happened. The boy's inner monster was strong, and fought to free itself with far more enthusiasm than a young vampire's Beast should have. Was it related to the madness of last night? When a Beast took over the mind of a Kindred, completely took over, the result was a Draugr, a mindless animal concerned only with its hunger. What had taken over Jack, or replaced Jack, or manipulated Jack, was not mindless. It was cruel, filled with malice, and disturbing joviality.

She brought a hand up to her chest, and clutched at it through her blouse. Her Jack, infected, changed, altered. No, do not think about it. Think about your childe for now. Help her first. And maybe, just maybe, she can help you.

Gulping, and coughing on her dry throat, Samantha turned to face the side of the bed.

"I feel... f-feel... strange, and..."

"You will feel many strange things, Samantha. Your life has been altered, in more ways than you can imagine."

"B... Because of... this... Angela woman?"

"In a manner of speaking." Antoinette walked over to her wardrobe, retrieved a robe of solid white, and offered it to her new childe. "I know... I know that misery and anguish overwhelm you, Miss Terry. Your world has been destroyed, for a third time. As if the Fates themselves conspired against you, happenstance and atrocious luck have ruined your life and killed those you cared for most. But, if you will set your misery aside for a moment, and listen to me, I promise you not all is lost."

Samantha slowly slid her legs off the bed, remained seated, and looked between the robe and Antoinette. If she knew how to Blush Life, she probably would have, purely to let tears flow as waterfalls. In Antoinette's many years of unlife, she had seen true grief countless times, soul crushing torment, and Samantha dripped of it.

"My... m-my..." Her head dropped, and her shoulders shook. "You... you'll... you'll get her?"

"We will capture Angela and her group, and we will crucify her. Literally." With a nod, Antoinette took initiative, and threw the robe around Samantha's shoulders. The poor woman would go comatose, or slip into shock, if Antoinette let her. "Come. Not all is lost for you, Samantha." With that, she reached out, and set a hand on her childe's.

"Not all..." Clearly lost to her confusion, helpless and disoriented, she took her hand. Progress.

Slowly, gently, Antoinette pulled the woman up to standing. Petite as she was, the robe dragged on the black marble floor, and Antoinette smiled at that. There was some Jack in her, in her quiet mannerisms, her shy glances, her careful steps. She reminded her of the first time she had met Jack, a small boy at a ball full of vampires. There had been a strength in him at the time, and in his mother now, it only needed to be drawn forth.

"I am Antoinette, and for now, I am your host."

"An... toinette." Clutching the robe around her at the neck with one hand, the other still in Antoinette's grip, she followed along as best she could. Antoinette did not pull her too hard, but hard enough to force her to take steps. If she dallied, the poor woman was bound to collapse with depression.

Once she arrived at the main stairway, that connected to the center room and various halls, she went up a couple floors, and made sure to both give Samantha a moment to admire the dragon statues and carvings, but also hurry her along. The marvels of her tower were many, and she looked forward to sharing them with her new childe. The extravagances of fortune and time were hers to have, and while they could not cure the agony she undoubtedly felt, they could alleviate the pain a little.

Jack, on the other hand, she could aid quite a bit.

She guided the woman down the hall, past the metal doors that were obviously cell doors, and when Samantha stopped to stare at the closed window slits, Antoinette pulled her along.

"I... are—"

"These prisons are not for you. Do not fret, little Terry." She could not help but smile at herself for the phrase. "But, there is someone within one of these cells, that you need to see."

"... it's... you... you said you're still looking for her."

"And we are. This is someone you will wish to see."

"You can't bring back my daughter, Miss... Antoinette. You can't bring back my family. There's no one I—" She went silent as she stared at the enormous metal door. Shaking, she stood there, watching, eyes wide as Antoinette set the number for the digital padlock, and used her key to unlock the manual one. Each lock was made of metal thick enough to give a blowtorch pause, were they made of normal metals, and she did not use normal metals. Security was paramount.

The door was thick, two feet thick, and made of reinforced material similar to the locks. It was also as heavy as a vehicle. No one was getting into, or out of this room, if she put them in there.

Samantha gasped as Antoinette pulled it open, without too much trouble at that. She gasped again, as the hallway light entered the metal square room, and lit a body.

"Someone's d-d-dead... in there!"

Antoinette looked over her shoulder, offered the oblivious woman another smile, and stepped into the room. "Be calm, Samantha. And come with me. Not everything is as it seems."

"I... but, I... I—" Her body went rigid, frozen to ice, once Antoinette sat on her knees on the floor, and lifted the boy half onto her lap. "Jack!" The world exploded upon her face. Her eyes lit up with wonder, and fell with the weight of turmoil, as she saw the stake sticking out of the boy's chest. "Oh god! Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh go—"

"Samantha Terry," Antoinette said, putting some bite into her voice to cut through the woman's oncoming shock. "Come here, kneel beside your son, and observe."

It must have been Hell for the poor mother. To wake up from a coma with new sensations in her undead body was confusing; sensations lost, as well. Her memories were a bundled mess, and the loudest, most pronounced, were of her daughter's death, the final member of her family. She had awoken in a stranger's home, and was at the mercy of their whim, a whim she knew nothing about. Dressed in a hospital gown and a robe, she had walked down a hall of obvious cells, and now, in a dark room undoubtedly meant to contain and imprison anything imaginable, she found the body of her son with a stake through his heart.

"Wh—"

"Now." She did not wish to be cruel, or to destroy her new childe. But this had to be done. She could not simply sit by and let her childe come to terms with the changes of her life, when Antoinette needed her help. Seeing Jack rise from the dead would demonstrate the life of a Kindred to her, and perhaps fill her with joy that one of her children was alive. And maybe, if everything aligned perfectly, Samantha's face would do what it did for Jack last night, and settle his demons.

She did not have the time to let her new childe collapse upon herself.

Gulping, panicking, trembling, Samantha came over to her, and knelt beside her son, across from Antoinette. "He's... he's... You found him? He... he disappeared, two years ago, and... did this Angela woman have something to do with it? Oh god... oh god oh god."

Antoinette shook her head, and yanked the stake from her lover's chest. Samantha let out a cry, short, weak, and she reached out to set her hands onto the chest of her son. As whimpers built within her, and spilled from her in tired sobs, she managed to frown up at Antoinette.

"How could you? He—"

Antoinette nodded down toward Jack. "Watch the wound."

"What? You—"

"Watch the wound, Samantha." Again, she raised her voice, and cut through the small woman's rising panic. She could not let her succumb, not yet, not until after this moment.

It would all be for naught, if Jack did not awaken. It would all be for naught, if the insidious monster she met last night was what waited for her. Please, Jack. So much had been lost already. She could not lose you, too.

Samantha gasped, a noise no louder than a mouse, as the wound on Jack's chest began to close; and it closed quickly. "Oh my god. What's happening? What's happening? I don't—"

Antoinette raised a hand, offered her childe a warm smile, and nodded down at Jack. Sure enough, it healed over, the currents of Kindred blood within showing themselves for a moment before the pale skin of the boy's chest hid them. He healed fast, faster than a Ventrue his age should have been able to. She had grown to expect much of Jack's abilities, but purely in his conscious efforts. How quickly he healed during torpor, on the other hand, was purely a function of his natural Kindred strength, and it was quite impressive.

What dark Beast lurked within her little Ventrue, that had grown to such heights under her very nose?

The stars aligned. She had not known if Jack would awaken, considering his unexpected torpor at the hospital. That would have only added to Samantha's confusion and misery. But sure enough, once the hole healed over, Jack's eyes opened. The hallway light exposed his beautiful, green eyes.

He was not used to waking up on a metal floor, and he blinked several times as he stared up at the Prince. "... Antoinette?"

The tension in Antoinette's chest vanished. She had not realized it was there, a slow creeping that had sneaked into her core, tightened all the muscles there, and constricted her depths. But the sight of her lover's eyes, his eyes, Jack's eyes, and the blatant honesty he carried within them, genuine sincerity without the layers of lies and deception most carried, washed away her anxiety.

Purely through her gaze, she could tell Samantha was similar in a way, a genuine, sincere sort, if perhaps without Jack's eye for analysis, or his delightful old-man cynicism.

And once Jack shifted his eyes to Samantha, it was fireworks. Antoinette leaned back a little, giving enough space for the two to react to each other without her interference, even as Jack's back lay along her thighs. The two stared at each other, blinking, confusion on both their faces. Jack's broke first, understanding coming through, and he offered his mother a small smile.

"... hi... Mom."

"Jack! Oh god, Jack!" The world vanished for Samantha Terry. In the moment, there was only her, and her son, her long lost son. She grabbed him, yanked him off Antoinette's lap, and crushed him in her embrace.

Antoinette smiled as she watched them, and let the joy pour. Her childe, a sweet, innocent woman, did not hold back. She wailed, and her motherly — if small — voice echoed in the metal chamber. Poor Jack was going to break in half with how hard she clutched him, and while the boy let his arms go limp at first, with a few moments to collect himself, he returned her hug. The two merged into each other, clutching, trembling, until Antoinette felt an urge to cry flutter up her chest.