My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 03

"I did."

"And you said nothing?"

"You Kindred and your Horrors are wisps of shadow and mist, with many limbs of many forms. What is one more oddity among small Horrors, with such liquid features?"

She was describing the Beast, and she knew what it looked like. So, the strange creature Jack and Beatrice had seen in their minds was what the Begotten could see in them, then. The monsters lived in a plane of dreams. Did the Beast live in such a place as well? Or, was connected to it, somehow?

The idea that Crúac could reach into some other realm, communicate with potentially godly entities like the Crone, and perform magical acts, didn't seem so absurd anymore.

"Liquid features?" he said.

The old monster nodded as she took another puff of smoke into her lungs. It came out as she spoke, as natural as anything to the ancient creature. "Us Begotten are a little more... defined. With you vampires, you are small, and adaptable. Like chameleons, you change colors to become one with your environment. Like evolution on fast forward, you grow to fit your surroundings. Adapting, with liquid features that mold to your whim and habitat." She breathed smoke at him, but he could see the hesitation in her eyes. "Chameleons are minuscule, and usually, beneath our notice."

"And... now? What do you see in me now?"

The Begotten looked between each other, as if playing hot potato on who would speak. But Azamel, coughing a couple more times, put out her cigarette, and leaned forward toward him.

"A long time ago, I once met a Begotten, little Kindred, and he reminded me of you. This monster fed on... I am not sure. To this day, I haven't been able to discern what this brute craved. All I know is bodies followed in his wake." Sighing, she shook her head as she fumbled for another cigarette. Athalia helped her, and where Azamel would have probably been annoyed at the assistance in the past, now, she accepted it without issue. "Within the heart of his lair, I found endless corpses, some fresh, some old. Mountains of them, piled high, until they reached the black sky above. The only light was glints of white against the flowing rivers of red.

"And this Horror, little Kindred, was massive, as massive as I. A creature of shadow, with tendrils of obsidian mist that ripped into the endless bodies it rested upon. It had no single face, and no set of limbs I could identify. It was a... a thing." She leaned back, and breathed smoke into the air before meeting his eyes again. "I see such a monster, in you, little vampire."

That was a pretty horrible image, and Jack winced as he met the old woman's gaze. She wasn't lying, or exaggerating. Hell, if anything, she was looking at him with pity.

"What happened to him?"

"Slain. The beast was a glutton, and for the Begotten, mindlessly indulging our hungers can leave us... vulnerable."

Indulging his Beast its desire to feed and destroy wouldn't make it vulnerable, as far as Jack could tell. Except, indulgence was often the weakness that destroyed many people, and monsters. He didn't think that that was what Azamel meant, but still.

"You heard about what happened?" he said, looking to Athalia.

"... we did."

"You know Angela killed one of our thralls, and my sire?"

Azamel frowned, apparently not happy he'd switched his attention. And in the past, she would have wrestled it back with a sharp remark. Not this time.

"We... we heard of Julias's death, yes," Athalia said. "Jack, I—"

"You heard about the crows, that attacked the hospital?"

Athalia lowered her head, turning away from him. "We heard. I thought maybe that was Julias, until Fiona told us what she learned from Damien."

Jack glanced at Damien. There wasn't anything wrong with Damien sharing with his girlfriend information that was basically public, but Jack did sort of wish the Begotten hadn't gotten to know about his curse until he told them.

Whether they knew or not, their reaction was blatant, and seemed honest. The three monsters were looking at him like he was a threat, like he was dangerous, like he might attack them at any point. Mark had moved to join his companions, and was standing with fists at his side. Athalia had some of her weight braced on the balls of her feet. Azamel had her eyes on him, staring, ready, as if Damien didn't exist.

It made him feel powerful. Ventrue ego swelled, and Jack struggled to keep the growing smile down. Feeling powerful was addicting, he knew that, everyone knew that, and he wasn't going to let it influence his decisions. Besides, it wasn't him, it was the curse, something that he hadn't earned or developed on his own. It was a gift, and a curse, a tool dumped into his lap by a psychopath from hundreds of years ago. He'd be a fool to rely on it.

But god damn it, it was tempting.

"Before I go," he said, "does anyone have an update on the unknown threat?"

They visibly relaxed. Maybe they thought, upon seeing him, that he was going to push for violence because of what happened to his sire. They didn't know him, didn't understand he wouldn't do something so stupid just because he wanted to. And, much as a part of him really wanted to, a larger part of him knew it wasn't their fault, or Athalia's fault.

"No, unfortunately," Azamel said. "With everything that's happening, it's hard to tell what's what, in the mess."

Jack frowned, and idly scratched the neck of Mulder and Scully, along the back, as he pondered. There was someone out there, doing something. The strange portal Fiona had found, that she'd opened and taken him and Damien through into the Shadow Realm, proved it.

"At this rate, I really only have one course of action," he said.

Damien raised a brow. "Which is?"

"Talk to Black Blood, or his rivals." He was playing diplomat with werewolves and nightmare monsters, why not godly spirits too?

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~~Eric~~

He didn't stay in human form. Urshul was the better form for exploring, a massive wolf that was so absurdly muscular and gigantic, using the form in Dolareido was a recipe for a Masquerade violation. The Prince was as likely to string him up by his guts, as hunters would be to snipe him from a distance, if he ever used this form where anyone could see him. But in a mostly empty city with not a single human presence, the giant wolf body was the way to go.

Most of the pack felt the same way. Everyone shifted into the Urshul form as they got moving, except for Clara. Avery's second in command stayed human, probably for better communication purposes. The Uratha could communicate in wolf form, but it wasn't exactly elegant or precise as far as he could tell. Grunts, howls, yelps, body language, he could understand them more than a human, but it was a far call from a refined language. And the vampire wouldn't be able to understand half as much.

Natasha bounced a few times, made some tiny squeals, and hugged her two wolves by the manes. It was adorable, seeing the tiny girl hug the gigantic beasts, and lose half herself in the depths of their fur. It almost made Eric vomit from cuteness overload, when Natasha climbed onto Matt's back. It wasn't like Matt couldn't handle her size, considering he was utterly massive, even when compared to the rest of the pack. It was just that, he was a wolf, not a horse. No saddle on that back. But Natasha was light enough, and Matt fluffy enough, that she had no trouble holding on.

He'd decided they should head to the center of South Side and start there, since the Azlu had an agenda of blocking the Gauntlet, and essence flowed mostly freely there. Made sense, hopefully. Avery warned him it'd be dangerous, but she'd agreed with his reasoning. So, off they went, to hopefully not die.

Flowing Sanctuary continued behind them. The best comparison he could think of for her was an angel, except made of water. How did Avery acquire the help of a spirit like that? More than just help, a contractual obligation. That's how spirits worked, as far as Eric knew, and his instincts told him he was right. Spirits were creatures of contract, with rules to follow. They didn't do charity work. If Avery had this deadly entity working for her, she had to have earned it, or maybe forced it.

Flow didn't seem like a pushover. Hell, as they walked along the Dolareido street, spirits gave way, scurrying into shadows or jumping around buildings to hide. They were easy to spot, now that he was in this form; and they were easy to smell. Was it smell? The wolf half of his brain recognized it as smell, but the spirit half recognized it as something different. If there was a word for it, in English or in the language of spirits, he didn't know it, but his body knew how to sense it.

There was a giant crow in the sky, following them. That was fine, no aggression there. There were lots of shadowy blob creatures moving along the shadows provided by buildings and benches, and his nose followed them far more easily than his eyes. A flock of what he could only guess were spirits of vehicles and asphalt came by, each rolling along as a single tire, with wings of asphalt they used to keep balance. Fucking weird.

It only got weirder as they walked along. The rest of the pack took in the insanity like it was normal, but Eric paused, frequently, as he took in the sights. The sky erupted with a lightning crack and storm every so often, something in the distance, something unnatural, but the pack didn't pay it any mind. There weren't any crows except for the huge one following them, which made the city feel just as empty as the lack of humans, but as his senses tuned in to the Hisil, it felt progressively less empty. Where there should have been crows, he noticed little dark wisps flowing around, scattering as the wolves grew closer. Some of them flew, and seemed like they had wings. Some crawled, joined the blobby shadows at the base of buildings, and flowed into the sewers.

The buildings themselves were all crazy reflections of their physical counterparts. A casino, Tesaufer, looked basically the same, but as they grew closer, he could see the front doors waver like liquid, and the sign itself pulsed like a heartbeat. A nearby strip joint did the same. The street lights were twisted and coiling upward, heading toward the casino signs like a vine chasing sunlight in a maze. The lack of cars felt strange, but tides of motion flowing in and around the buildings filled in for the missing vehicles.

A lot of the spirits were pink, or aqua, or bright lime, and a bunch of colors that announced their nature. Sex, entertainment, fun, bliss, joy, the spirits here were the blatant reflection of the mood in Dolareido's South Side central district. They weren't the people themselves, but manifestations of the things that defined the area. Some looked humanoid, many others didn't, with strange shapes, extra eyes, tails, glowing body parts, and flowing lines. If they went into those buildings, he doubted the spirits were sitting around at booths, chatting, eating and drinking, and ogling girls. They'd be doing... spirit things, which meant feeding off of the resonating essence in the area, while also trying to get a one-up on competition.

Spirits behaved like wild animals in a way, as far as he knew, and as far as the dark matter of his brain was telling him. But, instead of fighting for resources or mates, they fought to grow and spread themselves. If any of the spirits could grow stronger than the others, they might devour them, and grow into something large and multifaceted. A spirit of sex, and gambling, and other vices, could come out of this arrangement, dominating everything else, devouring them, and taking over South Side, then the city.

That was the sort of thing Avery fought to keep under control, that all Uratha fought to prevent. It was the sort of thing they'd want his help with, a supposed expert on city living.

And there was no denying his instincts wanted to do exactly that. Hunt and kill and keep his territory in a healthy state. Another part of him wanted to bring Jessy here, and indulge in the atmosphere he was feeling, the resonance that filled the walls, the street, the signs and streetlights, and the air. It was a place one could easily get lost in a tide of self-destructive fun.

Funny thing was, as strange as it all looked, and smelled, it still felt familiar. This was his world, in a way, he'd just been living on one side of it, the Gurihal side. Here in the Hisil, the emotions, the concepts and ideas, the geography and how it meshed with the humans it guided, it all created literal things in the Shadow Realm. The spirits embodied everything and manifested in as many ways as his mind could consider.

One of the buildings had a red carpet leading up to the door of glass and lights, and he could see the carpet moved and twisted, creating waves on its length that softly rolled toward the building's door that ushered spirits in. One spirit swam through the air past them, slithering left and right. It looked kind of like an eel, but it had large scales that looked like gold coins. Several more of the asphalt spirits drove by again, following after the eels. One spirit, pink and curvy with nothing but flowing lines, emphasizing feminine features to an absurd degree, hovered past them and drifted into one of the buildings, a strip club.

"Spirits don't get along like this," Clara said as she walked up to his side. "Not normally, anyway. There's so many different kinds here, mixing and interacting."

"Is it l-like, a zoo?" Natasha said. "Lots of d-d-different animals, all near each other, m-most in cages."

Avery shifted back into her human form, as smooth as putting on pants, and gestured to one of the casinos. "More like, everything is on a leash. They come here, feed on the essence that seeps in from the other side, and none of them dare step out of line."

Flow drifted further forward, and the pack spread apart to let the angel of water move between them. Slowly, she drifted toward one of the casinos, but came to a stop as a metal gate began to move.

No, not a metal gate. Something vaguely humanoid made of metal bars approached, each limb a myriad of straight, hard-edge metal pipes. It was seven feet tall, no head, but it did have two legs and arms. Instead of eyes, glowing sparkles dotted various parts of its metal frame. His instinct said they were eyes, but his instinct also told him to not trust what he saw. Spirits could be crafty.

"Uratha not allowed," it said. "That includes you." Well, this spirit had guts.

It was a giant thing of metal bars, in a bustling entertainment district where people spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on vices. This was probably some sort of incarnation of the kind of shit Eric did, bouncing for Bloodlust. And many of these places locked up when they were closed, or blocked off paths from customers, using metal gates.

It was a spirit manifestation of a barrier, specific to the environment: casinos and whatnot. Their ban was, naturally, to not let anyone pass who didn't have permission. There was no option in a spirit's will to resist their ban, it was what they were. But what sort of bane would these creatures have? They'd probably take damage from things known for breaking through barriers, especially in this sort of environment. Keycards? Maybe the tools of a professional thief who knew how to pick locks? Blowtorches?

Uratha didn't need to use banes to deal with unruly spirits, but it certainly helped. Against this tin can, any of them could have simply gone Gauru, and ripped it in half. And if Eric's instincts were right, Flow could have done worse to it.

Flow said nothing, not a scoff or chuckle or groan, and floated there in front of the barrier spirit for several moments. She—it was testing the waters probably, no pun intended.

"Scary," Natasha said, her eyes locked onto the barrier spirit. "Are... things like that th-the thing... holding the leash?"

Avery shook her head, and dismissed the barrier spirit with a wrist flick. "Strong, but unable to step outside its narrow purview. It's not why the spirits here are getting along. The war between Black Blood, Street-Tail King, and Red Tide is why."

Eric's ears twitched, and he turned his head, looking between the various spirits before watching Avery closely.

Natasha blinked, confused, and let her eyes drift back to Avery. "I d-don't understand."

"The politics of spirits are a giant mess you don't want to get stuck in, vampire," Avery said. "I—"

The lights went out.

Avery snapped her fingers, pointed at Tash, and stepped toward the center of the street. Tash hopped off of Matt, and moved to the center of the street as well, as all the werewolves collapsed into what Eric could only assume were battle stations. There was no light except for the pulsing moonlight above, but that was plenty for a werewolf.

The spirits around them panicked, and vanished. The sneaking shadows slipped into manholes or alleyways. The barrier spirit stepped back and into the building it was guarding, and the liquid doors of the casino opened for it like oil around water. The spirits driving by on wheels sped off, and the flying eels flew into casinos, bars, strip clubs, and anything that had walls to protect them. In seconds, the place went quiet.

The familiar weight of something alien, something massive, something dark and cold and twisted fell over him, and he snarled through clenched teeth as he backed up closer to the pack. A glance back at Natasha showed she'd pulled a pistol out of her pants, and had a knife in her hand. Silver. She was smart enough to not say anything at least, and draw attention to herself. He grit his teeth and looked away, back to the streets and sky, looking for what could possibly be affecting the area so directly.

"I ain't ever see such a thing," the darkness said in a Southern drawl. "Bunch of dogs come through my home, with a vampire to boot, and didn't have the sense to ask for permission first?"

Oh shit. Yeah, he really should have listened to Avery and avoided South Side central.