My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 08

Damien turned his head enough to see that a long sword was being held an inch from his throat. He had half expected this excursion to end like this, with Daniel sneaking up on him, turning the tables; it did nothing to ease the shock of being ambushed. He hadn't expected Daniel's sneak attack to succeed because he was distracted by his sex life. And damn, he was happy to have a sex life, but not happy to have a sword at his neck.

"Sheriff. I was... limit testing."

"Limit testing?"

"I wanted to know if I could follow you without being spotted."

Daniel stared at him through his glasses, a stone, without emotion or surprise. His right hand still held the sword, and he used his left to adjust his glasses, pushing on the bridge to get them closer to his eyes.

"I'm almost half a millennium old, Mister Burksen. You're what, fifty-one-years embraced?"

"And that's... part of the reason I'm following you." Damien stood up, and Daniel kept the sword where it was. The blade was steady, and Damien frowned for a moment as he checked the metal. Zero adornments of any kind, a blade meant for killing and nothing else. "Maria tells me she's announced the revival of the Lancea et Sanctum officially, and that she's going to be running it. I'm going to be her right hand, her sword, and... I wanted your help."

"My help?" With brow raised, a moment of emotion Damien had not expected from the statue, Daniel slipped his sword into his jacket into a hidden sheath starting behind his neck. His face returned to its stone solidity in seconds, and he stared at Damien with all the interest and urgency of a wall.

"Yes, your help. There aren't any Mekhet I can come to for training."

"Training." Daniel stared at him, a blank expression Damien could only assume was the man's surprised face, before he started walking away. "Are you serious?"

Damien followed after him. When they got to the edge of the rooftop, Daniel dropped off it, as casual as walking down the stairs. He landed like a feather. Daniel was a tall man, a bit lanky, but big enough to hit with impact, except he didn't. He didn't make a noise, didn't roll with the impact, he simply landed, and started walking. And it was a five-floor drop.

Damien tried to mimic him. It was stupid, juvenile, and very much not like him to do something like this, but he tried. His Kindred body could handle the impact without too much issue, but he heard the sound of his boots hitting the concrete of the dark alley, plenty loud. And it hurt, falling that far. It took a few moments for the shinsplints pain to pass, before he limped, and then walked after the sheriff.

"Yes, I'm serious."

"Why should I do that?"

"Why did you spare me?"

The two Mekhet merged into the crowd. Daniel moved through it like water, turning his shoulders only just enough to graze by the dozens, hundreds of people walking past. If Daniel collided with a single shoulder, Damien didn't notice it.

"Natasha wanted to spare you."

"And you agreed."

"I... did not see Lucas, in you."

"Exactly." Damien forced himself in close so the two of them could talk, getting in behind the man until his nose was almost touching the back of Daniel's neck. "You trusted me enough to leave me alive, even after everything that happened, everything I did."

"If you need training, ask Mister Templeman."

"Ryan is... ancilla, but he hasn't developed the skills I'm looking for, the skills everyone knows you possess."

"And?"

"And I'm asking, help me. I am a valuable asset to the city, and to the Prince's efforts." Maybe some cold reasoning would be the way to sway this man of stone.

The sheriff looked over his shoulder at him. The expression was unreadable, as it almost always was with the man.

"How are you a valuable asset?"

"Because I'm doing all I can to catch these hunters. And because I don't want the Second Estate to be what Lucas wanted it to be. I... I am against the idea, in its entirety. And if Maria ever pushes it toward Lucas's end goals, I'll steer her back, or refuse to help her."

And it was true. As much as he believed Maria's views on the Lancea et Sanctum were far less conservative and vile than Lucas's, that did not mean she wasn't capable of pushing the Second Estate toward a totalitarian regime with aspirations of domination. He didn't want that. He was happy with the way things were going, with his role as Maria's Right Hand, but also with the truce the city was experiencing. Dolareido was a good place for a Kindred to live, he'd come to realize, and he was willing to fight to keep it that way.

"Natasha was right about you."

"She was." Maybe a little confidence would also help convince Daniel. Or it would backfire horribly. "And, honestly, things are going to get bad. You know they are, and I know they are. Something's going to happen, and I want to be prepared. I'll be a lot more help than most Kindred in this city." He was tempted to ask about Athalia as well, but there wasn't any need to pull at that thread.

Daniel pulled into another alley, Damien followed, and the two of them came to a stop once they were in the darkness, away from the street light, the vibrant lights of casinos, and the bustling noise of the crowds.

"If it weren't for the Prince," Daniel said, "and her goals for this city, I would say no. As far as I'm concerned, we dragons have our own goals, and this city provides us with the resources to pursue them, nothing more." He adjusted his glasses again, and looked to the crowd walking past as he set his back against the brick wall. "But my friend is convinced we can keep the peace, and make something of this. Alright Damien, I will train you."

Progress. Damien did his best to suppress his smile, but a small one came through. Maybe in a few hundred years, he'd be as cold as the sheriff, but even Damien, who he knew some considered a cold person, experienced emotions in abundance. Maybe Daniel did as well, and was simply better at hiding them.

"Thank you."

"I have a few hours to spare every Tuesday, at dusk."

"I'll be there. Can I tell anyone about this?"

"Maria only, and Jack."

"I see. Very well."

Daniel sighed, a small thing, terribly out of place on him, and he even shrugged a little. "This is highly unusual, Mister Burksen. If I suspect that you are abusing my kindness in any form, I will not hesitate to scatter your ashes to the wind. Understood?"

"Understood." Damien suppressed his smile. This was going to be like boot camp. Daniel was going to be harsh with him, cruel, intense, and try to break him. Damien would survive, as he always did, and would come out of their exchanges stronger for it.

Or he was going to die.

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~~Beatrice~~

Slowly but surely, she could feel her sex drive returning. That sucked, because she didn't plan to sleep with anyone for a long time. Othello felt differently of course, and he and his ghoul were fucking up a storm almost every night. He pulled the hanging furs closed though, in respect for her. But tonight, she didn't feel like being so lonely, so she pulled the fur aside.

Maybe if Jen was around, Triss might have slept with her, enjoyed a quick orgasm, and gotten back to working on her ritual. But Jen was out on a hunt or something, making connections, getting to know some kine probably. Doubtful that she was sleeping with any of them. The girl seemed honest about her reluctance to return to her old sex life, and any time the conversation turned to Julias, she seemed genuinely bothered. Not as sad as Beatrice, but sad nonetheless.

"Triss," Othello said. It was just him and his ghoul in his alcove, carved into the cave wall. As usual, they were having anal sex, with his dark-skinned, beautiful ghoul sitting on his lap, facing away from him. She had her legs spread, and was masturbating, while Othello choked her. Madison was a gorgeous woman, with her super short curly hair, and her tremble breasts on display.

"Othello. Madison. Don't mind me, just... yeah, keep going."

Madison may have, once upon a time, been shy about the whole situation with Othello, but that had long passed. She was a regular in their dark cave of occult wonders, knew about vampires, and Othello made sure she enjoyed herself any night she was around. Such a beautiful woman, and Othello had probably seduced her using his Discipline Majesty the first time he met her. Or maybe he didn't, and had seduced her with his natural, I'm-a-lazy-fun-loving-idiot charm.

That presented an interesting question. What sort of man was Othello? She never really hung out with him; hell, she hung out with him even less than Aaron. He was a handsome man, handsome as fuck, tan skin, average height or maybe a little taller, shredded and covered in muscle. With his long dark hair, she wouldn't have been surprised to see him surfing on a beach closer to the equator, drawing onlookers over his beauty. His brown eyes looked like they held depth, but what little she knew of him suggested otherwise. He was a pretty boy, a pretty dumb boy.

He had a huge dick though, and Madison was enjoying it thoroughly.

"Othello," Triss asked, "who sired you?"

The man raised a brow, but didn't stop fucking his ghoul. Sex was in the man's genes, probably. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason, really."

"I was sired by a woman, a hundred years ago, not far from Puerto Rico."

"Tropical weather? You must miss it."

He shrugged, let go of Madison's neck, and slid his grip down her body to her breasts. Cupping them, he tweaked her nipples, hard enough to earn a squeak from the woman, before softening his touch. The bastard knew what he was doing. Madison didn't stand a chance, and she leaned back against Othello's big chest as she writhed in orgasm. Her slit dripped a couple drops of juices onto the furs, and Triss breathed the smell of sex and life. It was making her hungry, for blood and sex.

"Sometimes."

"Why'd you come up here?"

"My sire did. I followed, and joined the Carthians. She left after a few decades, annoyed with the Invictus and the Lancea et Sanctum. I stayed."

Ah, things were starting to fall into place. She was surprised he was telling her all this so freely. Then again, the Circle really was a family, in a twisted sort of way, why wouldn't they share information like this readily?

"Jacob picked you up, then?"

"Yeah."

"Hard to imagine a lover boy like you, getting into witchcraft."

Othello laughed, and gently pushed Madison forward until she fell to her hands and knees, facing Triss. A moment later she collapsed, shoulders and cheek to the furs, ass in the air. Othello sank his grip into her hips, and continued to fuck her, thrusting in hard, but pulling out slow. Each thrust made the trembling ghoul squeak or groan, and her toes curled as she kicked the furs a few times, before succumbing. Well, Othello had been fucking her for quite a while. Poor girl was lit like a match. Gotta love that vampire stamina.

"Sometimes," Othello said, "I think I'm just here, in the Circle, because no one tells me what to do."

"Understandable. Much as Garry was my friend, it was a pain having a boss."

"Exactly." Grinning, Othello smacked Madison's ass. It jiggled, in a very pleasing way. Madison wasn't shredded like Triss or Othello. She had a touch of softness to her, just a bit, just enough to make a toned ass particularly large, and hypnotizing. It rippled with each impact, and Triss licked her lips as she watched.

"Though, I'm surprised Jacob let you stick around, if you all do is lounge about."

Othello shrugged, reached down, and grabbed Madison's wrists. God, the sight of Madison being pulled up, torso suspended by the tension of Othello holding her arms back, was candy for the eyes. The girl was in a daze, mouth open, eyes glazed, and head bouncing up and down as Othello fucked her. Watching her breasts bounce around underneath her was amazing, and Triss squatted down so she could get a better look.

If she'd been blushing life, she'd have been soaked. But she didn't. Without Julias, she wasn't going to be enjoying sex any time soon, no matter how much her hunger demanded it. Maybe with Jen, but even then it'd have been something short lived, to take the edge off her desires.

"I'll have you know," the Daeva said, "that I've been Jacob's eyes and ears for decades. The witchcraft stuff was never important to me, but the freedom of the Circle is. I believe in its views on... governance..."

Triss raised a brow, and felt herself smile as Othello's gaze became focused on the whimpering ghoul. He let go of her hands, let her flop down on the furs, and he sank his fingers into her waist as he pulled his cock out of her. Dripping with lube, he set his huge shaft on the girl's ass crack, and slid his grip down to knead her ass cheeks with his hands, pressing the huge mounds against his cock. Cum gushed down the woman's back, white fluid along her dark skin, that soon trickled down her spine, between her gorgeous shoulders, and down her ribs to trickle onto her breasts.

Poor Madison. She wasn't getting rest any time soon. Othello sank his cock back into her ass, pulled her back up to him, and sank his fangs into her neck. The result was instant. Madison shuddered and squirmed, and the juices trickling down her thighs doubled in volume. Triss and Julias used to have fun with the thralls sometimes, but never like this. Seeing the woman cum from the Kiss, from having her blood drained and fangs sunk into her neck, was quite the sight, especially from only five feet away.

Othello, being the sex-obsessed animal that he was, started to fuck his ghoul, as he Kissed her. There'd been times where Triss had Kissed one of Julias's thralls while Julias fucked her, and good god that'd always been amazing, the combination of sexual bliss with the pleasure of life blood trickling down her throat. But most of all, she missed just being in another person's arms during sex.

She lightly flicked at the necklace sitting against her sternum, and the crow skull it held. "Thanks."

"For what?" he said, smiling at her from over Madison's neck.

"For telling me stuff without me having to pry it out of you like most Kindred. And for letting me watch."

The man winked at her, and set Madison back down. She collapsed once again, chest down and ass in the air, and her squeaks and groans turned into weak whimpers and mewls as Othello continued to fuck her. Best thing, the absolute best thing about the Kiss, was how it left the target exhausted and sensitive if the vampire didn't drain them to comatose. Which meant that poor Madison was going to cum until it hurt, as Othello did not stop. Lucky.

Beatrice left, pulling the fur curtain closed as she headed back toward her cave. Except, Aaron crawled in from the tiny entrance of the cave, and made a small wave at her as he headed toward his alcove. She returned it, and followed.

"How goes it?" he said.

Shrugging, she stepped into his alcove, and flopped down onto her back on the furs. "The ritual I was shown is hard to wrap my mind around. Still struggling with how to execute it, without royally fucking myself up.

"I'll help however I can." Aaron sat down next to her, back against the cave wall, and a book in his lap. He didn't pop it open yet though, ready to talk. "But, you and Jacob are the only two witches who have figured out how to use Crúac, in Dolareido at least. Not sure if I can help."

"I'm surprised you guys stick around if it doesn't interest you."

"Who says it doesn't interest me?" Aaron reached over the small room, under a rug, and pulled out another book.

"Heh, what's this?" She scooped it up and checked the cover. "Dark Mysteries?"

"Jacob says it's one of the more accurate journals, written by a human who discovered some pretty dark stuff back in the 1800s."

Triss wasn't a reader, she was a doer. To read about dark magic didn't hit her with anything, didn't teach her anything, and she doubted she'd ever be able to get value out of a book like Aaron or Jacob could. And this one didn't even have pictures, bleh.

"You're interested, then?"

"In reading about it, sure. Academic interest. But I've seen you and Jacob perform some rituals, and I can safely say that it's not for me. That doesn't mean I won't help however I can though. Need anything?"

She shook her head. "No. The ritual to force open the door is all me." And she wished it wasn't. It was going to be painful, and she'd lose a lot of blood doing it. So it was a good thing Jack would be there when it happened, to keep her going. No way in hell she was going to stay back after the ritual was complete. "You really don't think you could do a ritual?"

The Gangrel shook his head as well. "No. It seems to require a mindset, the ability to... feel, as much as think, about something."

"And what, you're all thinking, no feeling?"

"I suppose. There's a reason witchcraft has typically been a female occupation."

Laughing, she gave him back the book, and scooted in closer to him so she could sit beside him, back to the wall as well.

"No, I'm pretty sure that was just sexism from the medieval ages. Oh no, this woman seduced me! Clearly she used evil powers to do so. She must be a witch, burn her! Oh hey the priest gets to absorb all her possessions. How convenient."

Aaron nodded, a very scientific nod, the sort of nod one made when discussing the latest medical journals, or philosophy papers. "That's true, but I think there might be a hint of truth to it. Not the seduction part, but that women have a capacity for witchcraft men don't."

"Totally explaining our boss."

Aaron smiled, a rare occurrence, and shrugged. "Jacob the warlock. Do you think our boss is a typical man?"

"No, I suppose not." No one could figure out Jacob, except for Minerva, a dead woman. "Did Othello ever talk to Minerva?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Damn. It'd be nice to learn something about her. Learn about her, and we might learn about him."

Predictably, Aaron disagreed. "Let sleeping dogs lie, Triss."

"Not sure I can do that." Not only was it a favor the Prince had asked for, but Beatrice was genuinely curious about her boss and his past. What had driven him to become the man he was? Given his age and how torpor affected the mind, especially when elders took to it for decades to let their bloodlust settle, she doubted he remembered his neonate years with any clarity. But damn, it'd have been amazing to get to learn about the psychopath that was Jacob, and how he got so involved with the Circle, with Crúac, and the Crone.

"You don't think maybe it can wait? This talk of Jacob and Minerva," Aaron said.

"Wait? Until what?"

The Gangrel sighed, looked down, and ran a finger along the spine of his book. "Until your own wounds have healed?"

She winced at that. Fuck him for bringing it up, and fuck him for being worried about her. She didn't want worry or pity or sympathy, she wanted revenge. And in the meantime, she could learn about the man making it possible.

"What makes you think it'll ever heal? I doubt Jacob's wound has."

"He knew Minerva for decades. And—"

"And what, because I only knew Julias for a couple years, I'll heal faster?" Don't cheapen her love of the man, you fucking asshole. Grinding her teeth, she looked down, and tapped her claws together in her lap, feeling guilty for the thought. "It's still raw. Fuck me, it's still so damn raw."

"It hasn't even been five weeks, Triss. Give it time."

"I am! I am..." She didn't spend her nights crying anymore. A sob might slip out of her in the few minutes before dawn, but the nightmares weren't so vivid the past few sleeps. She still dreamed of his face, his warm kisses and gentle touch, and she still dreamed of him disintegrating into a pile of ash. She didn't hear his screams anymore though, or dream of ghostly images taunting her for not being there.