My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 07

"And she really can't remember her past?"

"From hundreds of years ago? Just blurry images, according to her." He pushed on his mom's door. It wasn't closed, like usual. The double bed within was made, and a nightstand stood beside the head of the bed in the unassuming room. A lamp, and a book sat upon it. His mom got the double bed after his dad died, replacing the old queen bed. There was a desk dresser with a mirror, with random things on it. A cute toy. A jewelry box. A snow globe. A picture of all four of them together when they were alive, James, Samantha, Mary, and Jack. God damn, they were so young.

"I don't know what to take." His mom ran a finger over the picture, smiled down at it, and moved onto her jewelry box. It made a tiny creak when she opened it. "Maybe the earrings your dad bought for me? Or a necklace, from your sister."

"Take whatever you want. The whole box, the clothes, the blankets. Hell, take the bed if you really want it."

With a weak laugh, she started digging through the jewelry, looking at old things she'd stopped wearing by the time Jack knew what jewelry was. "All of this seems so cheap, compared to what Antoinette has."

"You're her childe now, Miss Daeva. I'm sure she'll lend you whatever you want, or buy you everything she doesn't have to lend."

Laughing louder, his Mom turned around, and showed him a necklace around her neck. Fake pearls probably, something very nineties, meant to go with church clothes or something.

"She probably has real pearls, doesn't she?"

"Pearls, diamonds, rubies, uranium, whatever rock is worth a lot, I'm sure she has it in abundance."

"Uranium?"

"Heh, nevermind." He walked over to the window, and slid aside the curtain. It was a nice neighborhood. Not expensive, not cheap, with nearby schools and parks. Apartment buildings were on the other side of the neighborhood, and malls and grocery stores were shared by both, closer to the main road. He could still remember making trips to the nearest store, to buy candy.

"Hey," she said, "what do you know about that... Jacob fellow?"

Oh no, not this conversation. "He has no eyes under that bandage, Mom."

"That's fine! Antoinette told me about Nosferatu and their deformities. That one doesn't sound so bad."

"They look like they were removed with a serrated spoon."

"That's... less fine, but still fine! He seemed charming."

Jack leaned forward until his forehead was pressed to the glass. And then he started dragging it left and right, so it bounced numerous times against the glass with the friction. "He's an elder Nosferatu, Mom."

"So? Your girlfriend is an elder Daeva."

Touché.

"He's dangerous."

"So's your girlfriend."

"He's in charge of a cult."

"So's your girlfriend"

God damn it.

"The Ordo Dracul are more of a secret organization than a cult. Like, secret organization inside a secret organization. But, my point is, Jacob's a weird, twisted man, Mom. He's—"

"Antoinette says he's saved you once, from the hunters."

"That's... true." Trying to drive home his point was getting harder and harder. "He's into dark, occult stuff, Mom! Like, the witchy witch kind of stuff, and it gets pretty dark."

"You don't think he's a good man?"

"I think... he's... chaotic neutral."

She tilted her head to the side, and blinked at him. "What?"

"He's... he's... really hard to predict. He cares for the city, and he cares for his fellow witches, but he's done nasty stuff, Mom. He's older than dirt. He's killed kine by the hundreds, thousands."

"For fun?"

"I... don't think he's killed kine for fun. He's killed them because he's a witch, and is trying to expand the reaches of his power. He... does stick to only killing those most Kindred would say deserve it. Killers, rapists, dealers, and stuff." But Jack had no idea if he'd always done that.

She tapped her chin a few times, but he knew his mom. She wasn't a thinker. The chin tap thing was a feint, a thing she picked up when she knew he wanted her to think about something, demanded it, and she tapped her chin to appease him. What a sneaky woman.

"Let's go check your room. Maybe there's something you want to bring, too?"

"Y-Yeah, maybe." This was not going to be fun. He took yet another deep, useless breath, and followed his mom into his room. When he had moved out and started his own life, she hadn't touched it. He wished she had. It'd have been so much easier to forget his family and move on, if they hadn't been so insistent that he always had a place back at home.

He stood by his bed, and sighed. Blue blankets on a double bed, with a big fluffy pillow and side mattress, because he liked to sleep on his side. At least, he used to. Now he slept in whatever way was comfortable with Antoinette, often holding her; easy to do, when sunrise guaranteed he fell asleep instantly.

In the corner of the room was a corner desk meant for computers; no computer though. He'd brought it when he moved out. The walls were blank as well, and the nightstand by his bed was nothing more than a box of wood he could put his phone on for his alarm when he went to bed.

"Jeeze, I never cared for decorating, did I?"

"Nope. I always thought this room needed some flair. I thought maybe you were depressed. But, when you were on your computer, listening to music and stuff, you seemed happy, so I let it be." She slid open the closet, and laughed as she started digging through his clothes. "This all looks so... so..."

"Juvenile?" He plucked out a t-shirt from the closet. "Cheap?"

"Now that's not very nice. I was going to say more homely, or normal. All I ever see you wear is expensive suits now, and the Prince is always wearing a suit or dress of some kind."

"Speaking of suits and the Prince, do you plan to invite her to your funeral?"

Her laughing regrew, until she couldn't stand anymore. She sat on his bed, shaking, laughing, and wiping away laughter tears that never came. "How many people get to do that? Invite people to their own funeral?"

He laughed with her. Yeah, it was funny, in that strange sort of 'rock bottom' way. Like, if a man loses everything, and all he has left is his house, and then aliens come and blow up his house, guaranteed the man would laugh.

"It's Mary's funeral, too," he said. "Antoinette was worried you might not want her there."

"No no, I want her there. She's been nothing but nice to me, and she's taken great care of you. And she's your wife, right?"

Jack raised a brow, and looked at his fingers. "Invisible ring?"

She punched him in the shoulder. "Why haven't you proposed to her?"

"Because she's Kindred! We're Kindred. Marriage is... a tricky proposition, you know. We live forever, and a lot of what makes marriage work — when it does — for humans, isn't as strong a force for vampires."

Poor Mom. She frowned at him a while longer, before looking down, kicking her feet back and forth. "I'm not sure I like that."

"If it's any consolation, Antoinette and I plan to stay together. We love each other, a lot, but we don't belong to the same covenant, and Kindred are solitary creatures by nature. I fully expect her and I to be an item for centuries, Mom. But marriage, I—"

"What about... this Vinculum thing? I hear that—"

He turned to face her, and grabbed her shoulder with his closer hand. "Don't."

"But—"

"Don't. Drinking another vampire's blood doesn't make you love them, Mom, it makes you infatuated. Don't drink another vampire's blood."

"Is it that bad?"

"It's..." How to word this, how to word this. "It can be horrible, or it can be a bittersweet thing. Antoinette's ghouls knew what they were getting into before they took her blood. They knew they'd have their minds altered for drinking of her, but they also knew of the perks. But then, plenty of thralls were turned into thralls without them even knowing what was happening. They're dedicated to their masters." Some thralls were created using the Vinculum, and others were created using Dominate or Majesty; many were created using both. But no sense getting her more confused.

"Sounds like we treat humans as less than us."

"We do. We're vampires, not humans."

"But..."

Laughing weakly again, he pat her on the same shoulder, stood up, and started back for the hall. "But why did I and Antoinette tell you to not forget the human part of you? Because that's what it means to be Kindred, Mom. Balancing on a knife's edge between the human part of you, and the Beast." With a shrug, he headed toward Mary's room, and waited for his mom to join him. "You'll get used to it. You have a great teacher."

He set his hand on the doorknob, and froze. Tingles, the painful kind, the ones you get from sticking your hand into ice water, ran up his limb and into his shoulder. He stepped back, and blinked at the white paint of the door.

It was the same feeling again, that feeling that coursed through him when he first entered the house. The strange sensation crept up his spine, prickled, needles in his skin, until it stirred a headache, throbbing in his skull. Kindred didn't get headaches.

"Do you... feel that?" he said.

"It's cold. B-But, I... it's... it's not normal cold, right? What is it?"

He didn't like this, didn't like it at all. If his mom could feel it, then something was definitely up. He ran a finger down the closed door, and again felt the cold surge cut through him, until it hurt. Wincing and sucking in his breath through his teeth, he tried again.

This wasn't a new sensation. He'd felt it before, when Black Blood was around, when the Crone came, and when he was in that room where Elen had performed her haruspex. Cold, but not cold, a heavy weight, oppressive and suffocating, as if he was drowning. But Black Blood wasn't here, was it? There wasn't any black fog or liquid around.

"I... I'm not sure... we should..." His arm ached, touching the door, but he kept it there, determined to let the sensation either pass or build until he could bear it no more. The cold ache continued, but didn't rise above a pain he couldn't handle. He wasn't sure it even was pain. Something cold, and cruel, and sad, pulsed through the door and into his limb.

If it'd been the old him, he'd have fled. The old him had never felt this sensation before. The old him was a young vampire that didn't have his strength and abilities now. The old him would have been terrified by anything like this, that felt like the depressive arms of Black Blood, or the creeping bleakness he knew permeated cemeteries. The old him was smarter.

"Mom, stay behind me."

"B-But, maybe we should—"

"It's our home, Mom, and something's happened to it. I'm sure you noticed, when we first came in."

His mom took a small step back, before coming in closer and getting behind his right arm. "I thought maybe someone had shut off the heat."

No one had shut off the heat. The Invictus had kept their home untouched, until Jack and Samantha were ready to deal with it. Even if they had, this cold was painful, and Kindred didn't mind the cold unless it was literally freezing.

Someone had done something to his home. Someone, had entered his home.

"Black Blood," Jack said, loud enough to penetrate the door, "if this is you, show yourself."

Silence.

"Black Blood?" his mom said.

"A spirit."

"Spirit!?"

He shook his head. Black Blood would probably respond to being called out, unable to avoid taunting Jack in return. And, much as he wanted to blame this strange aura on Black Blood, this did feel colder, and harsher.

Gritting his teeth through the strange pain, he turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

Both him and his mother stiffened, chilled to the bone, as the cold atmosphere overwhelmed them. Like hitting a nerve on something hard, the penetrating sensation dug into him, up through his limbs, and into his guts. There was fog on the floor, and it seeped out of the room, inching over their shoes and into the hallway. Jack stared down at it, sure it'd be the black fog he was used to seeing now, whenever Black Blood was making an appearance. It wasn't black. It was the same, gray color of fog that anyone would see on a cold, humid day.

Was it Maria? No, the corpse woman was nowhere to be seen, and he trusted his new Kindred strength to be able to at least partly sense the disguised presence of a hiding vampire, no matter their age. And while her Nosferatu mutation made her sort of leak mist everywhere, this was different.

"Oh my god," his mother said, looking down at the mist that seeped out into the hall, and then out further, into the other rooms, and down the stairs. It were as if they'd opened the cage, let something out, and now it had free rein to explore.

He waited for something to happen. Maybe something would jump out of the closet, or his Kindred senses would tell him something or someone was hiding. Nothing happened. He took a step into Mary's room, and the mist parted around his legs, swirling and mixing before settling once again. The cold numbness did not abate.

Mary's room was different than his, in a predictable manner. Jack kept his thoughts and emotions in his head, and that expressed itself in the most common way: by living on a computer. Mary was far more extroverted. She had posters up from various movies she enjoyed, some romance, some action, and she had fancy pillows. One stuffed animal, a white fluffy bear, and a bunch of pillows and blankets. There was a dresser with a mirror, smaller than his mom's, and there was a small desk for her laptop. It was plugged in, closed, and probably in sleep mode; no matter how much he complained, his sister refused to ever properly shut off any electronic.

Jack and his mom stood in the middle of her room, slowly turning around, and she kept her back to his. Something or someone was in the room with them, but neither of them could see it. The silence was deafening. Mist filled the room unendingly, replenishing even as it flowed out into the hall. Mary's window, with its white blinds pulled up, was covered in frost. The tiny cactus on the windowsill was dead.

"I don't understand," his mom said. "What's... going on? I—"

Jack held up a hand slowly, and brought a finger to his lips. Thankfully his mom caught on quick, and glued to him a little harder as Jack roamed his dead sister's bedroom. The closet? He slid it open, but nothing waited inside.

"... hello?" he said.

"What?"

God damn it, Mom. Jack shook his head at his mom again. Not so quick. Shhh.

The silence continued for a time. Jack stepped out of the bedroom after a while, and his mom let out a small squeak as she dashed after him to catch up. She grabbed his right arm with both her hands, and followed after him, peeking around him as he walked through the hallway.

It was, just a few minutes ago, his old home, a house he recognized. But it wasn't his home anymore, or hers. He still recognized it, but the atmosphere, the nostalgia, the old memories and comforting presence, they were all gone.

It was when the lights they'd turned on, all turned off, that Jack and his mom both gasped. He flicked the hallway light switch, but nothing happened.

If he'd still been alive, and if he'd let out a breath, it'd have come out fog. The windows were frosted, and the mist permeated everything. It'd grown so thick, each step he took caused it to swirl around his ankles. And the weight of the cold, more than temperature, continued to press down on him.

Standing in the living room, he looked out the window. The streetlights beyond were muted, as if the windows themselves were fighting to keep any light out. Considering the lights in the house weren't working anymore, everything was dark. If he wasn't a vampire, it'd have been hard to walk around.

"... I know someone's there," he said. The slight tremble of his voice betrayed him, and he clenched his jaw for a moment until it settled. "Show yourself."

"J-Jack, maybe we should... should..." His mom's voice trailed off, as a new noise finally penetrated the silence.

Wails. Cries. Screams. The noise wasn't loud, but it was everywhere, filling the air until it was almost palpable, and every step felt like pushing through a choir of dead. He slowly turned around and around, and his mom followed, staying behind him and clutching his arm as he scanned for any movement.

He knew this sound better than he wanted to. It was like being in Jacob's cave again. It was the sound the dead made, when they got to make some. How they could do that, he had no idea, and if he'd known he'd find this at his old home, he'd probably have asked Jacob or Black Blood about it. Hindsight was twenty twenty. But at least at Jacob's underground sacrifice pit, there was a reason for the sound, for the whimpering, crying, shrieking voices to echo for all time. Why here though?

His old home had become a graveyard. Every step made it more apparent that the dead were here, or something similar was. Maybe that was it, a spirit from the Shadow had come. But there wasn't any reason for that, and how they would even know where he lived? He gulped as he felt his mother's grip shake, but forced himself to stay calm.

They moved to the kitchen, slowly, each step a labor, each filled with the gnawing cold and growing fear. A vampire, afraid of the dark? Yep, that's what was happening. He was growing more and more afraid, and that meant his mother was probably terrified. She never could handle a horror film.

It only got worse when he tried to push open the side door, and couldn't. He tried harder, and still it refused to open. He kicked the damn thing, and it refused to open. He kicked it again, putting all his weight into it, his Kindred strength, and the strength of his curse. Physics being physics, the act sent him sprawling to the floor. The door swung open, door frame tearing apart at the lock, but before he could move through it, the door slammed closed with more force than Jack kicked it open with. Bang. His mom, after squealing several times, tried to open it again. It did not budge.

"Jack! Jack, oh god, are you ok?"

"Fine, fine." Growling, Jack forced himself back to his feet, and held his hand out for his mother. She took it, getting behind him once again, as the two began to creep around the dark house. The wailing continued, louder, but as Jack listened to the piercing cries, something became apparent. Unlike the choir of voices in Jacob's cave, there was only one voice in the old home, a woman's voice.

He knew that voice.

"... Mary?"

The cupboards flew open, all of them, at the same time. The wood slammed against itself, multiple times, until Jack and Samantha both covered their ears with their palms. Noise ripped through the cold air, followed by plates, glasses, and bowls. Jack ducked as one of the dishes flew at him, shattering against the fridge. A plate drifted out of the cupboard, floated in the air a moment, began to vibrant violently, and launched itself at Jack. Again, he had to move, diving to the side and barely escaping the oncoming dish.

"What's going on?" his mom said. "I don't understand!"

Jack looked up from the floor to his mother, expecting her to have to dive out of the way. She stood there, eyes wide, jaw dropped, hands at her chest. Terrified.

But she didn't have to. The cupboards swung open and slammed closed. The drawers slid open and slammed closed. The door flew open, and slammed closed. The house shook, rumbling, noise rising to a crescendo as the kitchen decided it didn't like them anymore. But, nothing flew at Jack's mom.

Oh fucking god, this couldn't be happening. It had to be a prank or something. Something or someone was in his house, and was acting like a fucking ghost, and the more he tried to figure out who it could be, the more his mind came up blank. It couldn't be Mary! It couldn't. It fucking couldn't.