My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 05

It was the sort of cemetery that belonged in Paris or London, hundreds of years ago, and it didn't really fit into the modern-rich atmosphere of Dolareido, with its clubs and casinos. But Antoinette and the others had made sure a chunk of South Side was separate from all the money and vices, and Lucas and Maria had made sure to preserve the tradition. It led to things like the Grand Cathedral where Maria slept, and Three Kings Cemetery, where the dead got to indulge in dramatic presentation, and Gothic atmosphere.

The dead, the truly dead, didn't give a shit of course, but the fake dead like Jack couldn't help but be drawn to it. He stood in front of one headstone, with an angel sculpture standing behind it, raised upon a platform, and he smiled as he noticed it was worn with time. The features of the eyes and wings were smoothed out, but the magnificence of it wasn't. Another tombstone had a smaller angel, a baby or cherub or something, floating upon a basket. A child's tombstone.

Graveyards struck the perfect note of sadness and serenity, to soothe any soul, but if he had to guess, vampires probably enjoyed the atmosphere more than anyone else. The only reason Three Kings didn't have Kindred hiding in it right now, was probably because of Maria's nearby presence, or because of the strange shit Jacob did here. Rumor had it the cemetery was haunted, and he was sure that was entirely Jacob. And this far out from South Side central, it was quiet enough that the breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, planted in the graveyard. It did feel haunted.

Someone was watching him.

His new strength, powers, abilities, all joined to heighten his senses. It'd be hard for anyone to sneak up on him now. Elders must have walked around like this, like rocket launchers at the ready and held by itchy trigger fingers, knowing full well they could, and should, shoot anything that looked remotely suspicious. It was scary, being this strong now, knowing he could tap into the curse without issue anymore. It was scary, having his Beast whisper to him things he didn't notice before, like the presence of distant kine, the flapping of bird wings, or the fact someone was hidden in their Cloak of Night, and was watching him.

Jack wore his coal suit tonight, with a slick coal business coat. For some reason, he wanted to remind himself that his life didn't have to be about colossal alien entities, ancient curses, and otherworldly realms. He was a vampire first and foremost, and that meant skin, bones, blood, and the hunger for it. He was a walking corpse that looked great in a suit.

He looked over beside him, and the darkness hid his small smile. There was someone over there, a kine, standing at a grave; she wasn't the person who was watching him. Whoever that was remained hidden. The woman, in her forties, was texting on her phone. Attractive, and dressed to please the eye with a coat covered in fluffy white fur, and black high heels visible below.

Jack started toward her, and used a hint of vitae to keep his motions quiet and suppressed. Instinct had kicked in, told him this was a hunt, and he let his instincts guide his actions in a way he never did before. He was over two years embraced now, and hunting prey came easily to him, even without his newly inflated Beast steering him. Walking up to a stranger and initiating conversation would have been a daunting prospect in the past, and it still wasn't a fun time for him, but he could get over that hurdle without too much trouble now.

The woman only noticed him once he was beside her, and she jumped away from him with a startle. Her phone fell, and Jack snatched it out of the air before it landed.

"Oh! Oh jesus christ, fuck me, I... hello," she said. This close, the darkness peeled away to reveal her long, flowing dark hair, and her dark skin. She reminded him of Athalia, though without the height. "You saved my phone!"

"I shouldn't have startled you," he said softly as he handed it back to her. No need to talk in hushed tones, but it added to the atmosphere of the moment. It was a graveyard, after all. If he'd been doing this in a library, he'd have done the same thing. No reason to disturb the ghosts.

"No no, it's fine. Surprised to see anyone else out at this hour, in a graveyard."

He struggled to not grin at that. "Me too." A glance down at the tombstone showed a man's name, Harry, someone who died a few years ago. "May I ask who this is?"

"My husband."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Much as he hated this small talk, it was a skill, and a valuable one. Chewing-the-cud dialogue was as painful as taking a cheese grater to his testicles, which was a big reason he avoided chitchatting with strangers. But in a graveyard, the talk was likely to have a little more depth, or at least, not hop subjects every fifteen seconds.

"It's fine. He was an asshole. Cheated on me." Well, that was blunt of her. Her eyes hardened as she looked at the tombstone, and she sent another quick text off. "He doesn't deserve to be buried here, honestly. Three Kings is too good for him."

"Why is he?"

"His parents are rich."

"Yep, that'll do it in Dolareido." Where the money runs like blood.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Felicia. And I really shouldn't be telling this stuff to a stranger."

"Talking to a stranger can be freeing. And I'm John." John Smith, naturally. "Hit me."

"Hit you?"

"With more about"—he glanced down at the tombstone again—"Harry. Or rather, why you're here visiting him."

"Heh." She shrugged and shook her head. "I'm here because I'm dumb. We were in the middle of a divorce when he died. I guess it's just left me... left the situation unresolved."

"I'm guessing there were good times, along with the bad, if you still visit his grave."

"Of course. I married the fucker, after all."

"It's good to have some good memories of the people we lose. They have a habit of sticking around for a long time."

Why all this small talk? Just take her, drain her, and leave the corpse on her husband's grave. Perfectly poetic.

Fuck you, I'm not killing her. Kindred in Dolareido don't kill without reason.

Kindred kill. Kindred are predators. And you even have the Prince's permission to kill, as long as you don't violate the Masquerade. Go nuts. Kill her.

No! Fuck off and shut up.

"You ok?"

"What?" He raised his head. He must have lowered it at some point without noticing, probably to hide the expressions on his face; they couldn't have been pleasant ones. "Y-Yeah, fine. Just thinking about... an ex-girlfriend. She's not dead, but we were together a long time, and I don't know if I'd be doing what you're doing, if she died." God damn, lying was easy once you gave yourself over to it. "Needless to say, it did not end well."

"Ouch. I'm sure you'd feel differently if it happened, though. I mean, at the time I wanted to kill Harry, but now... seems... like a waste." She took a peek at him a few times as she sent off another text, noticing his nice coat and suit. Confidence plus suit plus politeness equals easy hunt.

Maybe turn her, then? You have no thralls or ghouls. A lovely lady like her would be a valuable set of eyes and ears.

I have Scully and Mulder for that.

Then fuck her. Turn her into a ghoul, and make her your personal hole to fuck.

The fuck do you care for sex? If you're... a voice for the Kindred half of me, or whatever, the fuck does sex mean to you?

Drink her during sex, Kiss her. Make her your own.

I have a lover, the love of my life. Idiot.

She has ghouls, so can you. Grow your army. Start with her. You can drink her and fuck her, and invite that so called Prince.

Jack shook out his head again, but when Felicia caught it, he made sure to catch her eyes. She was intrigued by him, the small guy who showed up out of nowhere, in a graveyard, to talk with her. It wouldn't be hard to turn her into a thrall or ghoul really; a single command and she'd drink his blood. A taste or three, and she'd be a thrall, devoted to him. If he put his will and vitae into it, she'd become a ghoul, devoted to him all the same, and immortal, as long as he kept feeding her the will-infused blood every month.

And she was attractive. Age treated her well; or botox, he wasn't sure. Cosmetic surgery was the norm in Dolareido, with fake breasts and fake butts, worn by fake personalities. That didn't mean Felicia was like that, but considering her fancy coat and heels, in a graveyard no less, she lived the high life. He wouldn't have been surprised if she was one of the couples he noticed fucking on their balconies, doing lines and showing off jewelry naked.

No. Making a thrall was something to be calculated, with an eye for the effects, short and longterm. Would she be valuable? How many secrets could he trust her with? Hell, just telling her he was a vampire was a huge danger, to him and his kin. A ghoul was more reliable, someone that could heal from grave injuries, exercise great strength, and supposedly, even perform some Kindred feats, if they were old and strong enough. To create a ghoul was a major investment, and he wasn't about to do that to a random woman.

The only reason he was even thinking the thoughts, was because he could feel his Kindred instincts kick in in self defense. His sire was dead, and that truth weighed on him until it fucking hurt, until it was breaking his back and pinning him to the ground. He had to be more paranoid, more careful, not let the curse make him do anything stupid, but also plan for the future better than he had been. Kindred caution was telling him that, if he wanted to outlive his sire and grandsire, he had to be better, and build an army.

Julias didn't die because he made a mistake, Jack. He died because you did. The only mistake he made was helping you.

Jack pushed the thoughts away, smiled at Felicia, and reached across the empty space between their eyes with his thoughts. Vitae, the energy in his blood, let him bridge that gap. It was magic, an ancient, disturbing, twisted, dark magic. Blood magic, he supposed. He hadn't thought of it that way before, when he'd first become a vampire. It wasn't magic to him, just an extension of his abilities, same as he had when he was kine. Now, after seeing werewolves, monsters from a literal nightmare realm, rats summoned en masse by Viktor's hand, after seeing Lucas summon a bolt of lightning, and so many other things, magic was the only word he could think to use.

Fucked up, horrible, powerful magic.

Felicia's mouth parted slightly, and her arms hung limp at her sides. The resistance she provided him was beyond small, so small it was like stepping on an ant. Is this what it felt like to be an elder? Using Dominate felt ten times easier now, and apparently, he'd been a natural at it from the start. He could break this woman's mind and turn her into a vegetable, with the smallest modicum of effort. The giant creature in his guts, inflated by the curse he never wanted, was giving him the power to use fully automatic rifles, when he'd only just got comfortable with BB guns.

With great power comes great responsibility, so he'd heard. All he wanted to do with it was get revenge, and then seal it away. Not exactly a superhero, was he?

"Come here," he said, barely more than a whisper. She complied without hesitation, her face blank, and her mind as well. "Come closer. I will drink of you, Felicia." He almost added what would have inevitably been a horrible attempt at the classic Dracula accent.

She succumbed. He breathed in the smell of his meal, her perfume, her flesh, and he gently sank his fangs into her neck as he did. His hands took her in an embrace, and he growled quietly against her skin as he let the thick, warm, divine liquid pour over his tongue. Delicious. It didn't taste like metal, not really, not like a kine would have tasted. To him, it tasted amazing in a way he couldn't put to words. Fulfilling, warm, sweet. Maybe like hot chocolate, but thicker, and the more he drank down, the better he felt, like an energy drink. No, food descriptions didn't work. Kine blood was too amazing, too addicting. He gave up thinking about defining it, and just reveled in the moment of a successful hunt.

Felicia moaned, but he didn't drag the Kiss on. He drank quickly, sucking the blood out of her instead of letting it flow into his mouth slowly. If he was going to turn this into a sexual affair, slow was better, but he'd never do that; not without Antoinette present to enjoy it with him, at least. Done quickly, the Kiss was plenty enjoyable, but Felicia was borderline comatose before she could truly enjoy it. She went limp in his arms, and he gently lowered her down onto the tombstone as her energy vanished. A couple of licks onto the puncture marks in her neck, and they sealed, hiding the evidence of his hunt.

No gods, no alien creatures, no nightmare monsters, no spirits or ghosts or goblins. Just a vampire, having a meal in a cemetery. Long ago, he was terrified of this. Now, it was a moment's reprieve before he was thrust into the insanity awaiting him.

"I can remember," a woman's voice said from the dark, "when you had trouble doing this sort of shit."

He wiped a thumb along his lips, put his hands in his pockets, and looked to the source of the sound. Beatrice was standing beside a sculpture, a huge one, an angel with sword in hand, and she managed a small wave for him as she caught his eyes. She must have been the one hiding with the Cloak of Night, and revealed herself when he was done. The presence of a hiding vampire, one as old and strong as a vampire like her, was something the old him would not have been able to detect. Not true anymore.

"I had people like you to help me," he said. He walked up to her, and managed a small smile once they were a couple feet apart. "Taught me how to hunt, right?"

"How to hunt in alleys and shit, yeah. I didn't teach you how to flirt with strangers."

"That wasn't flirting!"

"Any woman her age who gets approached by a young guy in a great suit, who's making flawless chit chat, is going to assume you're flirting, at least a little. But hey, she looked interested."

He frowned at that, looking down as he held his chin between his fingers. "You're right, I guess. Antoinette has taught me a lot about talking, how to be suave and stuff. And... Julias did too."

If she was going to flinch, she hid it well. "I'm sure he did. Fucker was a smooth talker." Her smile grew, and Jack matched it. It was a fun memory, thinking of Julias and how frustratingly smooth he could be, when he wanted to. The good memories always last. "You really want to wear that?"

"I... Shit, is it going to get messy?" He looked down at his nice clothes, frowning all the more.

"Probably."

"Well, I mean I'd prefer to keep it from a blood soaking, but if it gets ruined, I guess I'll just replace them."

"You Invictus fuckers just love to waste money."

He shrugged, and adjusted the shoulders of the jacket in a very 'look at me I'm gorgeous' fashion. "True dat." Distant noises called his attention, stone shifting on stone, and he looked to the mausoleums in the back of the graveyard. "Jennifer?"

"Good ears."

"Yeah. This curse comes with benefits."

She nodded, snake eyes looking down as she ran the toe of a boot back and forth along the path beneath them. "Good. And... how's your stomach?"

"My stomach?"

"Going to ask you to do something pretty... fucking horrible, honestly."

He closed his eyes, took a deep, useless breath, and nodded. "What is it?"

"We have seven sacrifices waiting downstairs, alive but unconscious."

"Jesus..."

"Jacob's down there, preparing, but he doesn't think it'll be enough."

"Enough for what? How's this going to work? I don't even know what we're doing." And if seven sacrifices wasn't enough to fuel this ritual, holy fucking shit, how deep did this rabbit hole go?

"Crúac is... weird. It's fickle, and it can be random. We're trying to track down the hunters, right? Jacob knows rituals that can track people down, so do I, but we're trying to catch a target hiding inside a weird flesh chamber. It's... it's difficult. It's like we're digging for items in the sand, except there's other items in the sand, and some of them are sharp."

He raised a brow. "That sounds difficult. But, I'm not sure what I can do."

"We need a new ritual."

"Sounds tough to do."

"More than tough, impossible, without a... a... sign, I guess."

"Sign?" He glanced back at the unconscious woman he left, hopefully fine until she recovered in four or eight hours. It was damn unlikely for thieves or whatnot to come visiting Three Kings Cemetery, not after the last time, when a few of them disappeared. Probably sacrifices for Jacob's disturbing hobbies.

"What we're doing tonight isn't a Crúac ritual, not really. It's an... offering, to the Crone. For guidance."

"Guidance..." He winced, and when he met her eyes, she winced. She knew what it sounded like, then. "You believe there's a Crone... thing, out there, listening to your prayers?"

"I didn't, when I first joined the Circle. But after all the shit we've seen, Jack, how can you not think there's something out there, things, listening to us? Big things, godly things, things that look at human existence like flies buzzing around a rotting corpse, and vampires are the cockroaches."

He couldn't help but smile at that, and her nasty but effective metaphor. "At least you have a humble view of yourself. Does Jacob share the same view?"

"He does. Hell, much as he likes to act big and tough, I've seen him pay more respect to this mythical entity he's never seen more than I have."

That was a plus in Jacob's favor. If he didn't consider himself to be an important figure in the grand plan — or whatever — of his Crone's existence and intentions, then it was less likely Jacob was just manipulating Beatrice in a pyramid scheme.

"... I miss the old days," he said, "when all I had to worry about was working up the courage to talk to strangers." With a gesture to the unconscious kine behind him, he started pacing, hands in his pockets and head looking down. "Now we're worrying about hidden gods and scheming devils. Now we're worrying about alternate fucking dimensions, monsters from literal nightmares, and psychopaths with flesh magic."

"You're telling me. Fuck, what I'd give to just curl back up in J... Julias's bed, and... yeah."

Her eyes fell, avoiding his gaze. If he'd looked at her with sympathy, with any empathy, she'd probably have burst into tears, and left. It was something they had in common, that they didn't want sympathy, even if it would have been good for them. Nope, fuck that, just power through their misery, even if they broke their nose and bones on every wall in the way.

"So, I'm here. What do you need me to do?"

"Right, right." She took a breath, licked her crocodile teeth with her long tongue, and looked up at the cloudy sky. "Jacob's been talking with Black Blood, and they both think we need more... sacrifices."

"More?"

"More. We're trying to summon something's attention. We think last time, we managed to get somewhere, and this time we have seven sacrifices like I said. But it's not like we can just linearly scale up how many we sacrifice until the Crone, or whatever's out there, responds. We'll run out of people eventually, or the Prince will interfere, or—"

"So you want to sacrifice a lot more people, to make sure this is the one time you need to do it. Prudent, if you were running a business. Psychotic, if you're, oh I don't know, killing people."

Her snake eyes cut into him hard, and she came closer to him as she ground her teeth together. It made her crocodile teeth click as they shifted grooves along each other.

"Dolareido has plenty of people the world won't mind disappearing."