My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 02

That wasn't entirely true. He believed in the concepts of caring and resentment, polar opposites that lead to non-zero sums of outcome. If more people cared, the world would be a better, happier place. If more people were resentful, it devolved into destruction with no goal but to cause strife. But those concepts were far cries from larger-than-life, borderline metaphysical concepts like good and evil.

He was a scientist at heart. Everything was about data, facts, logical reasoning, pragmatic conclusions, with no room for bias or fallacies. But, try as he might, the idea of sacrificing a family member for power grated on him in a way he could only describe as evil. Worse, was doing it with Diablerie, something his Beast looked upon with as much fear, and intrigue, as Eve likely did when she ate of the apple in the Garden of Eden.

Heh, if Damien were here, he'd probably be proud of him for the reference.

He nodded, and followed Jacob out. His apartment had a pre-room area where the elevator connected to, since his apartment took up half the floor. It provided a little privacy, but not nearly as much as the blanket of Obfuscation Jacob dropped on them. It tingled, and Jack's dead, pale skin erupted in weird, momentary goosebumps.

"What do you want, Jacob?"

"You have been thrust upon strange circumstances, Jack," the old bastard said, smirking as he looked out one of the small windows in the pre-room. "I can feel it, you know, this curse thing everyone's talking about, now that you've let it out."

"It's not out! It's... contained. And I knew I couldn't hide it. That's why I didn't try." Jack folded his arms across his chest and glared at him. "Is that why you're here? To talk about the curse?"

"Well honestly, I wanted to see your mother."

That stunned him, and he blinked a few times. "Um, why?"

"The mother of Jack Terry, the kid who's destroyed everything? Of course I'd want to see her."

"I haven't destroyed everything." It came out a growl between clenched teeth, but Jacob just laughed.

"Sure you haven't." Mid laugh, Jacob walked up to his door and put a hand against it. "Whether directly or indirectly, you've upset the balance of everything, more than anyone ever has, in my city. And it all started, with killing Tony and Viktor."

Jack snarled at the man, and clenched his hands into fists at his side until he felt his fingers stabbing into his palms. "You—"

"And your mother seems sweet. Very sweet. How could someone like you, come from someone like her?"

"Don't assume you know everything about me, Jacob, and maybe you'll realize there's a reason I came from someone like her."

"Ah, touché. I would be a fool to assume I know everything." The elder leaned against the wall as he peered out the window in the pre-room, shoulder to the window frame. "What do you know of your curse?"

"Now? You want to talk about this now?"

"Tomorrow night, Beatrice and I will be taking you to my favorite ritual site. She's told me some, about the curse's nature, but I need to know more before I let you in."

Let him in? It really was like some sort of twisted cult.

"You want to know about the Strix."

It was Jacob's turn to snarl. "Striges are a menace. They have visited this city once before, and they were... difficult to remove, at best."

"What do they want? What do they do?"

The Nosferatu shrugged and gestured to the city before them. "We thought the city, but we were wrong. Their attack was... strange, and insidious. They instigated violence for its own sake, as far as I can tell. But!" He clapped his hands together. "My concern is not with them, but with you. If this curse is some vestigial remnant of the Strix, I need to know what dangers it poses to me and mine."

"It's just an... amplification, of the Beast, Jacob. All instinct and hunger and rage."

"Hmm. That lends a hint to the goal of the Strix, when they created the curse, I suppose. Is that all?"

"That's all."

"You said that awfully fast."

Damn it, that was true. The quick denial was often the mark of a liar.

Jack snarled at the man a little louder, and stepped in a little closer. "It's fine, Jacob. You want to find the hunters, I want to find the hunters, and so does this curse. It wants to do everything it can to find them, and kill them. So just point me in the right direction, and I'll get them."

Jacob raised a brow, high enough it was blatant over his eye bandage. "Confident."

"Yes, I am."

The old man laughed and pat him on the shoulder. "Very well. Tomorrow, dusk, go to Three Kings Cemetery. And make sure you're fed." With that, the bastard nodded, and headed for the elevator. But not before he stuck his head back into the apartment, and waved to his mom. "I'm off, Miss Terry. I do hope to see more of you in the future."

"Oh!" Samantha said, sitting up with a jolt on Jack's couch. "Um, yes, I'd like that. Goodbye, Mister Jacob."

Jack frowned around Jacob's shoulder. There should have been fear and some nervousness on his mom's face, not intrigue. But that was definitely her intrigued face.

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~~Natasha~~

"W-We're going to... what?"

Matt chuckled, and grinned at her over his shoulder. "Take you into the Hisil."

She stared at his large back, and Art's too, processing the words the werewolf had just said. Visiting the Hisil, what the Uratha called the Shadow Realm, had been one of her secondary goals for a while now. Dealing with the hunters was still her primary goal, but no one had found any signs of them since the night Jack had captured Sándor. The Invictus and the Carthians were sweeping the city almost constantly now, and had expanded the groups to include any Kindred over five years old.

It was one of the great things about Dolareido, now that the Lancea et Sanctum had been removed. The Invictus and Carthians got along well enough that they could trust each other to work together in removing the hunter threat. Mostly. Maria and Michael would never expose their backs to Garry, and vice versa, but exposing all their underlings' backs was a step in the right direction, a display of trust. As long as no one took advantage and stabbed an exposed back, everything would go smoother.

She walked along the sidewalk with her two boyfriends, slightly behind but mostly between. They were a nice wall between her and the oncoming traffic of bodies; not that she needed a shield, easy as it was to step around the tide of limbs, but it was a fun change to have a couple of bodyguards keeping everyone out of her path. And this deep in South Side, in the center toward the business district, there was no danger of hunters. She was free to relax, and think about what they just said.

"You mean... n-now? I thought maybe you were t-t-taking me to see Avery, so we could... p-plan for the future? B-B-But, we're going... now?"

"Yeap," Art said. "Avery's preparing a crossing tonight, and we're taking Eric with us."

"Oh! I w-wonder how he'll respond."

"So do we."

Blinking, she looked down at herself. Jeans and a white sweater, along with some sneakers. It was most definitely not Ordo Dracul clothes, or Invictus clothes. She looked like a Carthian. Considering where Avery and her pack slept, it was potentially a dangerous thing for her to dress up like one of the Carthians; could stir a fight. But, she had to admit, if she was going into a new, dangerous realm, something as casual as jeans and a shirt was decent attire. It didn't make it easy to hide her silver sword or her pistol though, and she had to strap them to the small of her back so the sweater hid them.

Her boys knew she carried silver. All the werewolves knew at this point, that all Kindred carried some degree of silver with them. The bane of werewolves. Spirits had banes too, and if she was going to run into them, figuring out what those banes were would be an essential skill. But then, the Uratha would probably be doing some sort of tour guide situation, and not letting her or Eric get into any real trouble.

Or maybe, they'd get into a lot of trouble? It was hard to tell with someone like Avery. Her — and Garry — were just as likely to throw someone into the deep end to see if they could swim, as they were to slowly ease someone in. Hard to judge.

"I... I think I... w-would have brought more guns, if I had known," she said. "I thought m-maybe, at the worst, you were j-just going t-t-to show me some... dangerous spirits or something."

"We are," they said in unison.

"B-But I thought you were going t-to... summon them, into a protected circle... or..." Like she did with Antoinette. A controlled experiment, with clear and obvious barriers to keep her safe from whatever crazy things existed on the other side of the wall.

"Summoning spirits?" Matt said, blinking over his shoulder at her. "It's not exactly a common thing to do, summoning spirits. Not like you hear about humans getting summoned to their side of the Gauntlet."

The other man laughed. "Well..." Shrugging, Art took a corner, guiding them further out from the center of the city, and towards the Carthian half of South Side. "I mean, there are disturbing stories out there, about people disappearing into portals and shit. Lovecraft wrote books about shit like that."

She froze, and blinked at their backs as they walked on. Lovecraft's stories about alien creatures that existed on planes above human understanding, were just stories, right? No, of course they weren't just stories! After seeing things like Black Blood, she had to assume that god monsters as old as time itself existed. Warring alien creatures that lived in higher dimensions probably existed too. Scary things that lived on human souls or something, and beckoned them through portals and whatnot, also probably existed.

Suddenly, she wasn't feeling so excited about this opportunity to see the other side.

She jogged to catch up to the boys, and fell in between them. "Is Avery really okay w-with this?" It wasn't exactly unknown that Avery wasn't keen on letting other people in on the secrets of the Uratha. Everything involving spirits, their pack leader wanted to keep out of the vampires' hands. But some months of working together and learning to trust each other must have opened Avery's heart to a little cooperation. A little. A tiny itty bitty little.

"I'd be lying," Art said, "if I said it was her idea. Matt and I pushed for this. We know you well, and in the spirit of getting along, we want to show you the sort of stuff we deal with. You're the only vamp who gets to."

She beamed. The boys knew her too well at this point, how to manipulate her. Make her feel like the special kid in class, and she could be molded like wet clay; and she was fine with that!

"Is it okay if I t-tell the Prince things? I w-work for her, and you know she's... interested, in these s-sorts of things."

Matt laughed and nodded. "We wouldn't bring you if you couldn't tell your boss about what you see. Not that you'll be able to learn anything dangerous from us, like, how to do anything. We're Uratha, you know? It's all a part of us, not something we do with symbols and rituals."

That did pose a problem for her and the Prince. The werewolves were strange creatures, half flesh, and half spirit, according to Matt and Art. Dealing with spirits, hunting them, or hunting other things that involved themselves in affairs that affected what the Uratha called 'balance', was innate to them. It wasn't written in a book, or drawn on a mural. It was the instinct of a living creature in tune with the environment it lived in.

Kindred didn't work like that. Kindred were the shadows of kine. The werewolves might know how to find North without seeing the stars, or know if an area had a predator nearby by sniffing the rocks, but they didn't know the ebb and flow of humanity. They didn't have an instinct for the human race, for reading kine and guessing their motivations, their weaknesses, or their habits. They didn't know how to walk into a crowd, and know what the humans were doing. They knew what the prey would do, where the weaklings were and the strong were, and they knew how they could herd them or chase them. But they didn't know about the smartphones and which humans were most hypnotized. They didn't know, at a glance, which humans were looking to fuck in a dark corner, or which humans were blazed out of their minds. They didn't know which humans were lovesick, or which were flaunting cleavage in a desperate need to get laid.

Werewolves knew how to hunt, wolves stalking sheep. Vampires knew how to become sheep, like wolves in sheep's clothing.

All of that skill, that innate and natural ability of a vampire to exist among humans, the ability to manipulate and control them, none of that helped at all when presented with unknown circumstances like this. The wolves knew how to hunt among the spirits, and she did not. The best she could do was follow them and stay out of the way; and mentally record everything she could. The more knowledge, the better.

"How's Jessy?" Art said.

"Huh? Um, she's f-fine. Why?"

"Avery wanted to know. Word is she's still fucking Eric when he's transformed, and that puts us all on edge."

"R-Right." She shivered at the thought. Uratha when transformed into their war form, were utterly massive, and titans of muscle. Assuming their... penises, were proportional, it meant Jessy was penetrated by something far too large, regularly. The thought was appealing, though, Jessy underneath a giant beast's body, wriggling and squirming as he mounted and had sex with her. And it was what Eric was doing, from the stories Jessy absolutely insisted on telling her.

Of course, Avery wasn't worried about the proportional mismatch. She was worried about a Gauru, a killing machine riding the edge of a berserk rage, going nuts in the city and drawing the attention of kine, media, and more hunters. Much as the werewolves didn't have a Danse Macabre law, that didn't mean they didn't try and keep their existence a secret.

Natasha shook her head as she considered. "She, um, insists Eric is in control w-w-when they, you know. And, um, if she's r-right, that's s-s-sort of like, training, isn't it?"

"Dangerous training," Art said. "One fuck up and people will die. But Caleb seems to think Eric's fine. Only lost his cool when shit really hit the fan."

Matt shook his head. "Still worried. It's a recipe for a problem."

Her gentle giant, Matthew, was not so gentle when transformed. The man became a raging beast concerned only with violence and destruction when he let out the war form; it probably bothered him. He was always so ice, and tender, but when the wolf came out, the two-legged dangerous one, he seemed to be the most violent of his clan. It must have had something to do with his past, from losing his family when he was young.

And Art, sneaky, witty Art, was always at his side, keeping him from snapping. It must have been quite the story, when they met in Tijuana, and Art joined their pack. What sort of crazy, wacky adventures had these two gone on together over the years, to become as close as they did now? If she got closer to the rest of the pack, maybe she could ask them.

It was a pleasing image, Art and Matt, side by side, covered in cuts and bruises as they fought against the vampires of Tijuana, and deadly spirits. It sent butterflies into her belly as she looked between them. They were so connected, two best friends who'd been with each other day and night for many years. And they were all hers.

Her wandering thoughts had slowed her down. She stepped up to join the two of them again, between them, and smiled up at them. This was her chance to get to know her boyfriends on a personal level, more personal than the stories they told. It was like meeting the parents.

It... it was like meeting the parents! Oh god, oh god oh god. She hadn't thought of it like that before! Oh no. She squirmed in her shoes as she walked, and her eyes fell to the sidewalk as she tried to wrap her mind around the implications. Soon, she'd be meeting the parents, the family, the brothers and sisters and cousins, in their own home. It was practically like she was visiting for dinner. Maybe that was why they suggested jeans? The Uratha didn't care for suits.

They took her into the apartment she knew Avery and the pack were staying at, save for Clara and Carter, who were staying in Eric's building. Would they be coming?

They guided her into one of the old, dirty apartments, and Natasha blinked as she stepped through the door. Clara was there, and so was Carter, and Avery. And Caleb, and Noah. David, Mason, and a bunch of other wolves she wasn't sure she could remember the name of. Brianna, Erica, and Monica, she thought, and a couple more. All of them.

"Heya," Clara said.

Natasha slowly raised a hand, and offered a small wave. "H-Hi."

"See Eric?" Avery said.

Art and Matt shook their heads.

The pack leader groaned, and started pacing around. "I'm giving that asshole fifteen minutes."

Now that Tash thought about it, pack leader might not have been the correct way to look at it. As far as she knew, recent studies into wolf behavior suggested they didn't follow a leader, so much as they were a family, and while a member of the family often took charge, they weren't a leader in any absolute or military sense. So Avery was more like, the mother of the pack, sort of, maybe. She dared not ask.

So, they waited. Waiting was uncomfortable. The wolves started chatting, and Art and Matt tried to draw her into conversations with the other wolves as they talked about Dolareido, but try as she might, she couldn't find words. Talking with strangers was difficult enough. Talking with strangers, when surrounded by them, in a small apartment, was Hell. She could feel her skin crawl as she looked around. Every wall, every seat, every corner had a werewolf standing against or sitting on it, and her brain screamed at her to get out to where there were less people.

Before she could find the courage to move from her spot by the door — either deeper in or out of the apartment, she wasn't sure — a knock at the door ten minutes later announced Eric's arrival, and Art opened the door for him with a smirk. Like Natasha, he was dressed in casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, and Tash could tell he didn't have any weapons hidden on his body; wearing a tight t-shirt could do that.

"You shave that head every morning?" Avery said, snorting as she stood up from the couch.

Eric raised a brow as he looked to her, and the rest of the crew. "Something against hygiene among wolves?"

Art laughed. He didn't do much for his hair, but he shaved clean. A lot of the other wolves had gruff on their face, long hair like Art and Matt, and otherwise looked like they'd feel perfectly at home living in the woods with only a knife and a mirror for any sort of grooming.

"Avery's not a fan of city folk," Clara said, shrugging. "Makes for soft people."

Natasha kept her mouth shut. City people were definitely different than people who lived in the country or woods, but soft wasn't the right word. And when it came to Kindred, living in a city was often more difficult. Fellow predators fought you for resources, and there were far more ways to be sneaky, to manipulate, and back stab. In a city, you had to be intelligent and ruthless to deal with your competition, in a way no other environment could mirror. It was an environment Kindred loved, hard as it was, with all the dark alleys and ways to control kine. The Danse Macabre thrived on cities.

But werewolves? Something told her they'd prefer to live in rural environments, where they could let their woflish instincts go wild. Maybe, seeing Eric survive just fine in a city, even going so far as to have sex while transformed, bothered Avery? Envy? Probably not. Irritation that her previous conclusions may have been incorrect? Probably so.