My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 01

She melted. It was like throwing a lit match onto gasoline. The poor woman squirmed for a second, but within moments, she sank against the wall, and blinked her sweet, pure, please-don't-take-me-I'm-just-an-innocent-girl eyes at him; a total lie but his awakened sex drive didn't seem to care. Vrall had been right. More than right, she'd been dead on. Damien leaned down over her, growled again, and he felt Fiona's weight struggle against his hands as her legs started to quiver.

"We... we shouldnae... nae now... we have a job to do," she said, but her voice had fallen into whispers. Her breathing was short, shallow, pants that drew his eyes to her chest and neck.

She was right of course. They had a job to do, hunters to find, and a city to make safe. All of that was background noise to the roaring in his chest, telling him to give into his desires, and drain this woman. Sink his fangs into her, and sink his cock into her, too. She wanted it. He could smell it. He—

"You two, good god."

Damien snapped his head up, and glared at Vicky. But her voice had been joyful, full of chuckling, and it prevented a barking retort from him. The Ventrue stood down the alleyway where it opened to the street, maybe fifteen feet away, and close enough Damien should have sensed her. He didn't. With every sense pointed at Fiona, tunnel vision was real. Even now, trying to pull back from his need to take the small redhead and sink his fangs into her neck, it was hard to notice other things. Street. Wall. Windows. Shadows. Two other vampires, and a werewolf nearby. Pay attention to your surroundings at all times, like a Mekhet should, instead of the horny teenager you're acting like.

"Hey, ye're ruining a moment!" Fiona said, barking at Vicky but smiling as she did. When Damien pulled away, Fiona pushed away from the wall, straightened her clothes, and stuck her tongue out at the Ventrue.

"You two can fuck later, when the hunters are dead," Vicky said. "Come on, we still have a lot of work to do tonight."

Fiona, grumbling, bounced on her feet a few times before stomping down the alley to join Vicky, and Damien followed after. In the past, he'd have walked ahead of her, in some sort of protective instinct he supposed. Now, any opportunity to see her from behind was an opportunity worth taking.

He almost laughed. Back when he was human, he'd had a sex drive, one that demanded he gawk at every woman who passed by. But then he'd also had a limited view of the world, a hyper conservative view colored by his beliefs; naturally, being attracted to everything with two legs and boobs had led to a lot of guilt. No guilt anymore. No, now things were different, he was different, and as far as he could tell, his beliefs more reasonable.

How much of that was Antoinette and her hyper progressive city affecting him, versus simple logical reasoning, he didn't know. It was hard to know, when working in the dark, and until God decided to pay a visit, he had to try and be reasonable about things.

Even more uncertain, how much of that was actually reasonable thinking, versus him being out-of-his-mind horny twenty-four seven, since he'd had a taste of Fiona? People didn't think straight when they were aroused. He assumed that Kindred were different, since without the Blush of Life, arousal was purely mental. Except maybe it wasn't. The Beast didn't operate on the biological, it was a monster, something above and beyond biology, and it certainly seemed like it was making him horny even when he wasn't Blushing Life. Which meant, he wasn't thinking straight, and never would be again as long as Fiona was in his life.

He was okay with that.

He fell in beside Fiona, but this time Vicky and Parker got behind them, while Matt led on. No way for the two of them to lose track and fall back, and conveniently start touching each other again.

Sighing, he looked back at the other two vampires. He was tired, and they were tired. Patrols, every night, all night, were starting to get to them, them more than him. He was used to being on edge all the time, being wound up, being ready for violence. They weren't. A lifetime, a second lifetime, a third lifetime for some of them, spent swaddled in Dolareido's gentle embrace had made them soft. The Carthians fighting the Invictus, Viktor and Tony being menaces, none of them compared to the violence of the Purge, and ultimately, that affair had been done and sealed within months. The Kindred of Dolareido were woefully unprepared for constant threat.

So, he was tired, but he wasn't letting it get to him like they were. What was getting to him was his desperate need to pounce the small redhead beside him and do things to her, and not having time to do so.

Speaking of sex...

"Vicky, Parker, how goes your brothels in Devil's Corner?" No time wasted on last times, this was important, and first names cut to that truth like cracking ice with a hammer.

That earned a pause from them, until Parker stepped up and started walking beside him. "Why?"

"Jack told me about a trip he and Avery made, to one of your brothels. Found some special, small statues there."

"Right," Matt said, still walking ahead of them, hands in his jeans pockets. "Avery said there's some low scale loci there, resonating on sex and pleasure."

Vicky and Parker looked between each other like guilty school children. It wasn't Damien's job or interest to ask about this, it was something Jack wanted to follow up on, but the kid had enough on his shoulders right now. Least Damien could do for his friend was find out more, since he was out with these two pampered royal babies every night.

"Why didn't Avery investigate further?" Damien said to the big man.

"Low priority. And despite how dangerous it is, Dolareido seems to deal with the sexual energy well. It dissipates throughout the city without overwhelming it."

Damien frowned at Parker as he spoke. "What happens if it becomes too much, too concentrated?"

Matt shrugged. "Same thing that happens when any particular energy, aspect, emotion, concept, or entity grows too big for its area. A large spirit comes along, devours, and upsets the balance. A shadow spirit feeding on an area thick with the essence of darkness could grow strong enough to turn off all lights in a city, and eventually strong enough to block out all light. You've probably read about myths and legends with things like eclipses happening when they shouldn't, and things of that nature. Lot of that was probably when some shadow spirits got out of hand."

That was not a comforting thought. If spirits could feed on a locus, and grow to the point of godly power, that was a legitimate concern. It also made Parker and Vicky's unchecked actions far more concerning than Damien had originally thought warranted. Learning that the two had been dealing with things that were possibly more dangerous than known had been of little concern to him at first, but as a Right Hand for the Invictus, and now intimately invested in Dolareido's future, it now did.

"You fucking serious?" Vicky said.

The werewolf nodded again as he stepped around a street corner. "If we saw it happening with those brothels, we'd have taken the locus you own. If you had tried to stop us, we would have killed you."

Vicky and Parker both stopped, looked at each other, and gulped before running to catch up.

"We didn't know," Parker said. "We knew those statue things were special, magical in some way. But... but, it seems perfectly innocent, doesn't it? It attracts kine, makes them docile, want to fuck and chill, and otherwise be all-around pleasant. Can't imagine it getting out of hand."

Sighing, Matt stopped and looked over his shoulder at the group of them. "Avery once visited Nevada, and found a den filled with sex spirits. Many of them had possessed people, to the point their lives were destroyed. They'd made innocent people abandon friends, family, and spend every dime they had on creating brothels and what have you. Drug abuse was rampant. People with infected track marks were jamming needles into wounds, so they could do anything in their power to increase the pleasure. Orgies filled with STDs and heroin. Women getting pregnant without a thought for the consequences. Men were dragging people into the den and tossing them in. Women were luring people into the den as well, though I believe a few used gunpoint to force the issue. Anyone in the den succumbed to the power of the spirits that infested the area. People were dying." The big man stopped, sniffed deep, looked up at a building, and continued on. "Avery interfered, and we had to kill more people, and spirits, to undo the damage."

Fiona whistled. "Aye, that sounds like trouble."

"But Avery says the spirits here are cooperating, keeping things moderate," Matt said.

"Is that normal?" Damien said.

"No, it isn't. Spirits do everything they can to get stronger, and they do that by expanding their influence, devouring other spirits if it fits their nature, merging or consuming, and they play politics. Sometimes, if they grow big enough, strong and smart enough, they play games you can't even begin to wrap your mind around."

That was a lot of information, and Matt was sharing it freely. Either he was beginning to trust him and the other vampires, or Natasha was convincing him to. In any case, information was power, and Damien picked up each bit like it was gold. He'd share it with Jack, and possibly Maria.

"Any idea why they're playing nice?"

"That," the enormous werewolf said with a grin, "I can't tell you."

Hm, Matt seemed like a big dumb guy, but he wasn't. Jolly giant, perhaps, but not stupid.

"Where did ye get them?" Fiona said, looking to Vicky and Parker.

"Get what?" Parker said.

"The statues! Damien said ye had a statue at the brothel?"

The two vampires squirmed a little. It was a question Damien had planned to get to, but Fiona beat him to the punch. He'd also planned to be a bit more manipulative about it, find a way to ask the question without leaving them an avenue to back out of it, and hopefully minimize the possibility they'd lie.

"I'd rather not say," Vicky said with a nod.

Naturally. With a sigh, Damien turned and faced the two vampires, right hand reaching behind his neck to rest his palm against the back collar of his trench coat. The hilt of his sword was there hidden inside the coat, his new sword, his much longer sword. They knew what it meant.

Parker glared at him, but he took a step back, too. "Damien, we don't have to tell if we—"

"Madam Vicky Goldman, Mister Parker White, I want to know, where you got those statues." He kept his hand where it was, and his other hand remained at his side, unmoving but ready to snatch up his hidden pistol if he had to. "So does my fellow Right Hand, Mister Terry. Don't upset me."

He didn't like being aggressive like this, but he knew he was good at it. Lucas had a hard, aggressive side most Mekhet didn't, and Damien knew it; and he'd learned it was a powerful tool. He'd used it many times when dealing with kine, and it almost always ended in the desired result: intimidation to the point his target acquiesced. With Kindred, he wasn't sure. Now was as good a time as any to test it, he supposed.

Vicky stood beside Parker, glaring at him, some teeth exposed as she growled. "The fuck is this? Thought we were out here looking for hunters, and now you're grilling us about what we do in our own time?"

He kept his hand where it was. "It is, but two of the Right Hands would like to know. It's important, more than you realize."

And that was true. Things were happening in Dolareido, and he, Jack, and Fiona now that she knew about the unknown threat, needed to know about random things that could turn into leads. Why two Invictus had powerful objects in their possession, magical in some way or another, was a question worth learning the answer to. The reason he had his hand on his sword, was because the two vampires were being unusually resistant to answering that question.

No, it wasn't just that he wanted to know the answer. Vicky and Parker, and other Kindred in the Invictus, didn't respect him as a Right Hand, didn't view him as a member of the Invictus. That was true, he wasn't Invictus. But if members of the covenant weren't willing to respect him as a Right Hand, it was going to be a problem. They didn't know him, what he was capable of, and it was about time he showed them.

Parker looked to Matthew. "Gonna let him just threaten us like this?"

The werewolf put his hands up and backed away. "I'd love to ask him to stop, but I have clear orders from Avery. Let vamps do what vamps do, as long as it doesn't interfere with our original job."

And for Uratha, that job was dealing with spirits. Kindred on Kindred violence was not Avery's concern, it was his concern. It was tempting, to try and convince Matthew that, since the statues in their possession were capable of summoning spirits, that it did concern him, and he should help Damien get information. But Matt made it clear that the statues weren't causing issues. And Fiona was neither Kindred nor Uratha; better she stay out of this.

"Just tell me where you got the statues," Damien said.

"No," the two vampires said at once.

Well, at least they were honest enough to not lie to him.

How quickly things grew violent between Kindred. For all Dolareido boasted of its peaceful interactions between vampires, it was only skin deep. Kindred were monsters, predators, hungry, with a set of instincts that demanded they distrust each other. The moment it stopped being a pleasant, cooperative effort between them, vampires turned on each other like angry cats. Tensions tightened even further, until they snapped like guitar strings, or bridge support lines. It was like that in many cities. Vampires could be working alongside each other one moment, and at each other's throats the next, when they felt threatened or got in each other's way.

The First Estate and Second Estate, the Invictus and Lancea et Sanctum respectively, often held some sort of truce in other cities, but not always. Tonight was a perfect example of how such a truce could go wrong.

When things grew too violent for the Prince's liking, she had exterminated the Lancea et Sanctum. The only thing that stopped the Carthians and Invictus from going at each other with intent to kill, was Antoinette and her iron fist. If anyone stepped out of line, she'd kill them, naturally. Unfortunately for Vicky and Parker, that line was pretty easy to not cross if you kept your head. Antoinette had grown quite forgiving and soft since Lucas's death, and more so since Jack came into her life. Unless someone came up and slapped her, she'd likely forgive transgressions. She'd be livid, undoubtedly, if Damien killed these two, but he doubted she'd care too much if he cut off their arms. They'd grow back, after all, in a week, or two, or twenty.

"Final warning," he said, "tell me where you got the statues." No longer a question of simple knowledge, now it was a question of respect. He'd prefer it wasn't, but the Invictus operated on respect, on power, and superiority and position and image. If he wanted to function among them, he had to play by their rules. If he really wanted to get pompous, he could challenge them to a duel, but that might not work, considering two on one.

He glared between the two of them, and licked a canine.

"No," they said together.

And the next moment, Parker had his sword stabbing through his chest, into his heart, and out through his back.

His eyes widened, looked down at the enormous sword piercing his torso, before his eyes closed and he collapsed into torpor. The sword would keep him paralyzed for a little while, more than enough time for him to deal with Vicky. Daeva were fast and strong, and in a frontal confrontation, that could make for a problem. Damien was sure he was faster, but if he had to deal with a Daeva and a Ventrue at the same time, it wouldn't be efficient.

Hesitation is defeat. He understood that. These two didn't.

He turned his eyes to Vicky, and found fear there. That was... thrilling. He was used to kine being afraid, when he took the time to strike fear into their hearts, and scare them back into the awaiting arms of the Lord. That'd been strangely thrilling as well, stroking an animal instinct that satisfied a need to be intimidating. But to see fear in a fellow predator's eyes was a special treat, and he licked a canine again as he approached her, leaving his sword behind, and pulling a large knife from inside his coat.

"Do not mistake my quiet nature for weakness, Vicky. I am a Right Hand for a reason. Do you know of the more powerful of Auspex's abilities? Its capacity to learn secrets from its target?" he said. She glared at him, eyes wide, mixing fear and rage, trapping her with indecision. She knew. "Answer my question, before I—"

"Jacob, ok? Christ, we traded with Jacob to get them."