My Little Ventrue Pt. 06 Ch. 15

"Natasha, come with me," Daniel said. "Thralls have been at the hospital all day, Invictus and ours, and we should join them. The Invictus council have sent Vicky Goldman and Bruce Vanna, and we should oversee the results."

Vicky and Bruce were Ventrue, and if they were going somewhere, with the sheriff too, then they were handling a cleanup. Ventrue would use their Dominate to control the situation, rewrite some kine memories, and deal with fallout. But, like with Eric's first transformation, if it was a serious situation, Julias was the Ventrue they'd send.

She was paralyzed. She couldn't move. Her feet were stuck to the floor, and her arms hung at her sides, limp, chains tying them to the Earth. As the two Mekhets walked past her, they continued to avoid her eyes, and Tash looked like she carried a weight on her back.

"I'm heading to the Invictus HQ," Damien said. As he walked past Jack, he looked over his shoulder, and Beatrice could see the grimace in the muscles of his jaw. "Michael and Maria will need a more thorough report." He didn't wait for Jack's response, leaving, gaze on the floor.

The kid nodded, but didn't take his eyes off hers, even as Damien walked past her, leaving the two of them alone. They both stood there, looking at each other, and listened to the footsteps on the hard floor. A minute went by, and then another. Jack swallowed hard, several times, a habit he couldn't seem to break, and it made his discomfort obvious. More than discomfort. The kid was oozing agony from every pore, to the point he might as well have bled black.

Oh fuck. Please god, please, don't let it be that. Anything, fucking anything other than what she could see in the kid's eyes.

"... Triss," the kid said, and the waver in his voice broke through her ribs and ripped out her heart with a splatter of gore and and anguish. "I—"

"How?"

"What?"

"How did it happen?" No dancing around it, avoiding it, going into denial about it. Get it out of the way. Rip the bandaid off, even if it took all her skin with it.

"I..." Finally, the kid broke, and his eyes fell. His shoulders trembled for a moment, and she could see he was fighting off the urge to cry. "I was at the hospital, visiting Mary and Mom. He came to see me, and then hunters showed up, with Angela. Then Elen and Sándor showed up using some sort of portal, and it ruined... ruined everything. They were... going to take Mom, and... and use her to... get to me." His fingers squeezed, tightening into fists as the kid forced down the shaking until it was gone. "We stopped them. Killed three hunters, maybe four, and even captured Sándor. But... but Julias... he..."

"Died doing a valiant last stand, right?"

"Yeah... yeah."

"And your mom?"

Jack lifted his eyes, and dug through the cesspit of misery he was swimming through, to find a small smile for her. "He saved her. She's upstairs, with Antoinette, sire and childe."

She nodded, and let her eyes drop. Yeah, that sounded like Julias, sacrificing himself to save someone else. His childe's mom? Definitely a Julias move.

Julias was dead.

She felt her long tongue press against the top of her mouth, and her throat constrict. Julias was dead. The words meant nothing at first, even as she ran them through her head several times. Julias was dead. Just three words that bounced off of her, as if spoken in an unknown language. Julias. Was. Dead.

As seconds slowly trickled by, meaning came to the words, context creeping in, no matter how much she didn't want it to. Julias was dead, which meant, the man who first showed her her disfigurement wasn't the problem she thought it was, was gone. The man who held her tight, hugged her, made her feel safe, was gone. The man who made her laugh, took her out to feed on kine, danced with her, was gone. The man who didn't mind her kinks, enjoyed and embraced them, inviting her friend into their bed, was gone. The man who pampered her, made her feel like a princess, and laughed when she acted like a spoiled one, was gone. The man who loved her, was gone.

Her white knight, her Superman, was dead.

Jack gasped as she threw herself at him. Her claws found his shoulders, and she sank them into flesh as she grabbed him, crashing his back to elevator door behind him. She picked him up, pinning him to the door, and glared at him, as the cold tremors started to work through her. Rage. She'd managed to skip right over denial then, like she wanted to. Yeap, sounded like her, sprinting out of the gate and then tripping a moment later.

"You!" She bashed the man against the elevator door, slamming him into it several times. "He died helping you!" She squeezed harder, and stared into the man's eyes as pain hit him. "He died because of you!" She knew she lost control. Deep down, past the icy pain that now coursed through her, she knew this wasn't fair. Didn't care, didn't matter. Pain. Rage. She had to get it out, had to before she exploded.

Footsteps forced her head to look over her shoulder, and the fat guard came closer, a pistol in his hands.

"Ma'am, put down Mister Terry, before I—"

"It's ok, Chunk," Jack said, shaking his head at the thrall. "Go back to your desk, and pretend you didn't see anything."

"Um, are you sure Mister Terry? She—"

"Go, Chunk. Now."

The thrall frowned, but put his pistol away, and walked back to his desk. Good. If he'd fired, Triss knew she'd have ripped the tubby fucker into bits.

She glared back up at Jack as her tremors grew. Her whole body was shaking, and her fingers tightened around his shoulders, claws getting through his suit. And—

His suit. Holy shit, his suit. He was covered in holes, and dried blood. He must have been shot a couple dozen times, and from the amount of blood on him, he must have been swimming in death.

This kid. This fucking, god damn kid. Ruin followed him wherever he went. Julias almost died that night when Rebecca fought him helping Tony, and Triss saved him. Twice! Viktor and Tony died around Jack in that confrontation. Then Lucas, and a host of other young Kindred. A hunt for a spider monster turned into two, randomly, and it'd gone ballistic trying to kill Jack. Then Angela and the hunters, not even in the city for him, were now suddenly trying to destroy his life.

The kid was cursed.

She lowered him, and stopped squeezing, letting her claws slip free of his flesh. But looking into his eyes soon proved too much, the honest green opening his soul to her. Pain. Christ, the kid was in pain, and she was blaming him, hurting him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Blame someone! She had to blame someone, anyone.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Her head fell, dangling in front of her, and her clutching hands shook Jack lightly. Strength vanished. An icy cold blanket, heavy, painful, covered her from head to toe, and pulled her down toward the floor. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find strength anymore, and her palms slid down Jack's arms. Soon, her knees met the floor, and her hands continued to slide down Jack's legs, until they fell to the floor as well. She tried to lift her head again, and she managed a few inches, enough to look up at Jack. Mistake. The kid, helpless to his own god damn honesty, met her eyes, and she crumbled.

He was broken. He was destroyed. But he was carrying on, despite it. She couldn't.

"He... he can't be dead," she said, voice choking against rising sobs. "He can't be! I... I need him... I... I can't... please, I can't... I can't!" Back to denial, then.

"He's dead." The wasteland of death and ice that surrounded them both, broke apart under the crashing weight of his words. And beneath it, all that awaited her, was a freezing cold, dark, endless abyss.

"Don't say that!"

"He's... he's gone, Triss."

"He's not gone! I need him! He can't be gone. No! He's not! He's not! He's—"

"Gone... he... he's gone." Jack's back pressed to the elevator door, and he started to slide down it. Soon he was sitting on the floor, legs apart, her between them. "He's dead."

"He's not dead! No! He'll... he... he had a plan, right? He'll—"

"He's gone! He's... he's gone, Triss. He's dead, and... and I couldn't save him..."

Her whole body trembled, no matter how much she tried to stop it. "He's not! He's not... not..." She reached out, grabbed his ruined suit, and tried to shake him. She might as well have been trying to shake a mountain. "I can't... I can't..."

His hands found hers, and his gentle grip wrapped her wrists. "He's gone... he's dead, Triss. He's dead, and... and... it's my fault."

Again, his words cut through her body like he wielded a sword. The hurt ran deep, into her guts, into her fucking bones, until it buried every inch of her. There was no escaping it. Even if she curled up and covered herself, protected herself, it wouldn't help. It was coming at her from the inside.

She forced herself to look at the small man sitting on the floor with her, and managed to find enough strength to glare. His fault. He said it. He took responsibility. It was his fault! His fault Superman was dead. His fault. His fault. His fault. She tried to shake him, tried to use her claws, tried to do something, but nothing worked. Her body was broken, strength gone. She was broken.

The rage began to fade.

"It's not," she managed to say, after a few weeping minutes of quiet. "You know it's not. You damn well know it's not, Jack. That fucking idiot just couldn't help himself. And... and I knew it'd happen, too. I knew it'd happen. I fucking knew it'd happen eventually." And she hated herself for it, for letting her walls down, for letting him get close, closer than anyone ever. Stupid. How could she be so stupid, to fall in love with someone like that?

Jack let go of her wrists, and the two of them sat quiet, until they stopped trembling.

"Triss... Julias, he... he wanted me to tell you—"

"He was going to make some sort of grand, sweeping, romantic gesture, wasn't he?"

He blinked at her. "Yeah..."

"I knew it. Fucker was... was smiling way too much, when he looked at me."

"He wanted to marry you. Said he was... going to use the last secret, some sort of bet, to tell you?"

She choked as a sob and laugh fought to come out at the same time. "Of course he fucking did. The stupid bastard. I—" She almost made a joke about her wearing a white dress or something, but the thought came with an image, of her and Julias, cuddling in bed, wedding dress hanging on the wall. They'd be together, forever.

And now that was gone. Everything she loved about him, everything she loved, was gone.

She got up, and walked away. She half expected Jack to say something, but a quick glance over her shoulder showed he was forcing himself back up onto his feet, and watching her leave. He looked broken and ruined, and she knew she looked the same. But he got up, and was ready to push forward. Something came out of all this misery for him: capturing a key enemy figure, and saving his mom. No way the kid was going to let this break him totally, when his mother probably balanced on the edge of a psychological knife as was. There was a good side to Julias's death for him, something that made his sacrifice worth it.

There was nothing for her.

Once she was outside, Jennifer caught her eyes, and ran over to her.

"Triss?"

Beatrice managed to look her friend in the eyes, before her head fell, and she almost started wailing, screaming, crying, and destroying. But a quick glance around showed there were watching Kindred, young neonates, eyes wide and taking in both her disturbed expression, and Jennifer's rather revealing, mostly open suit jacket.

"He... he's... Julias, he's..."

"Oh... oh god... I—"

"Not here. Not... not here." She started walking, and wrapped the two of them in a Cloak of Night. No interruptions, from anyone, would be tolerated. She needed to get out, away, needed to go where she could cry, and rage.

Jennifer managed a small squeak, before following after her.

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

The catacombs beneath South Hill Cemetery. Three Kings Cemetery got all the attention, but South Hill was still a great place for any vampire who was looking to be sneaky. She'd spent many years in it, scaring off punks who wanted to fuck with it, break in and do graffiti and whatnot. The Prince built the city, and had made sure to slip in some classic cemeteries when she did, because hey, old vampires be old.

Triss managed a small smile as she stepped down into her old hideout. Coffins on the walls in shelves cut out of the stone, everything covered in dust and dirt, and a few skulls and other bones sat out in artistic-yet-totally-not-manually-placed spots. For any Kindred who wanted to be alone, and reflect on their second life, their requiem, this was the perfect place.

"Triss," Jen said, following her down into the darkness, "you... you're sure?"

"Jack was sure. Saw it in his eyes. Kid was rocked, absolutely fucking wrecked. Julias is... is..." As she tried to get the word out, she collapsed. Weight slammed down against her, drove her knees into the stone floor of the catacomb, and her claws raked against it. "Oh god... no... I... I can't..."

Jen came over to her and reached out, but Triss slapped her hand away. "Triss, please, you—"

"He's dead, Jennifer! He's dead! The... the... the man... the only man I... He's fucking... fucking... d... d..." In the depths of the Earth in the catacomb, in the darkness and stone, in the presence of dozens of corpses, she let go of what small shred of composure she'd managed to hold onto. Her wails came out, and she slammed her hands against the stone floor again, and again, and again.

Jennifer said nothing. Good. Much as Triss loved her, and even wanted her here, she didn't want to be soothed, didn't want to be placated, didn't want to have someone tell her it was going to be ok. It was not going to be ok. It was all ruined, all destroyed, gone, fucking gone.

Triss got up, and walked up to one of the coffins. She grabbed it, ripped out the massive hunk of wood, and shattered it against a nearby wall. The corpse within was nothing but bone and a very old suit, and they shattered along with the shards of wood. Jen raised an arm to stop the flying splinters from hitting her, doing her best to block them in the dark, as Triss walked up to another coffin. Needed to do something, needed to destroy, to break, needed to let out some rage before she killed every kine within a mile.

Jen's eyes were wide, and her mouth parted. It was almost enough to give Triss pause, but she didn't. She marched over to another coffin, sank her claws into it, and whipped it out. A few hundred pounds of heavy, thick, solid wood, plus corpse, and she threw it across the stone room hard enough that it exploded as it collided with a wall. A sob worked up through her, forced her throat to clench tight, and made each heave her lungs forced get stuck. All she managed were growling sobs, grunts and grumbles mixing into her crying, as she let out another scream. She walked over to another coffin, and started to tear into it, claws slicing against the stone around it, scratching, but her claws couldn't break stone. The wood, on the other hand, was helpless, and she ripped the thick, heavy thing into bits in seconds.

Dead. He was dead. He'd never hold her again, never smile at her again, never fuck her, never kiss her, never pamper her, never tease her, never play with her, never beat her at poker, never cuddle with her, never—

"This is where you first met Julias, right?" Jen said, ready to duck if she needed to.

Triss stopped her rampage long enough to look Jen's away. With a long, weary sigh, she set her hands down on the shelf edge, and her head dangled in front of her, between her shoulders.

"Not... not exactly, but it's where we first talked. He'd... he almost died in a fire, knocked into torpor by Rebecca. I saved him, brought him here, and fed him some criminal fuckwad." Chuckles managed to break through her quieting sobs. "He... he showed... interest, in me. It was the first time I'd ever felt... wanted by someone, since my embrace."

"You know—"

"Yeah, I know, I really overestimated how badly Kindred reacted to Nosferatu. But he was still... he... it wasn't just about attraction. He... he... made me feel... different, and..." She slowly turned around, and sat down, back to the wall behind her, knees up to her chest. "He was so stupid. I called him a tragedy freak, someone who got off on the drama. He... called me out on my own bullshit, later, and... and..."

Jen came over, and sat down next to her, an inch between them. She emulated her sitting position too, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I can't believe he's gone."

Triss draped an arm across her knees, and let her forehead rest on it, as her sobs became wails once again. It wasn't a sound she was familiar with. Crying, sure, what girl didn't cry every now and then? But this wailing sound, this banshee cry, she'd never made it before in her whole life. It filled the catacomb, echoed through it, and anyone in the cemetery was going to think some fucking ghost was haunting it.

"... Angela," she said, forcing some words out between her cries. If she'd been Blushing Life, tears and snot would have been dripping off her chin. "Jack says she... attacked the hospital to get to his mom, so they... could manipulate him."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Elen showed up... with Sándor, using that portal we went through. Or another one like it, I guess."

"Oh... oh god. If we had—"

"We didn't know, and we... we didn't..." Every part of her wanted to blame herself, and Jen, and Aaron and Othello and Natasha and Antoinette and Jacob and Garry and Daniel and Maria and Michael and who the fuck else, for her Superman's death. Above all, she wanted to blame Jack. But that was a road down stupidity lane, and she couldn't let herself go there, no matter how much she wanted to. "Jack captured Sándor."

"Jack did?"

"Yeah, he... he did... somehow." Her crying sobs started to settle, and with a few more minutes, she got herself under control. Quiet whimpers refused to die, but for now, that was fine. "I—"

"Now, why on Earth, would a pretty lady like yourself, be makin' such a fuss?" the darkness said in a Southern drawl.