My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 10

"What kind of dream?"

"Something fucking creepy, with an old, gross woman in a robe."

An ugly old woman in a robe. Like, a crone.

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Inside the nightmare, they stepped into a dark cave. With no light to see by, they had to feel along the wet stone to move forward, even with Kindred eyes. As they moved long, the shape of the stone began to change, ridges and humidity fading away, along with the heat of the jungle. Soon they were greeted with stagnant, cooler air, and the familiar sensation of concrete on fingertips. Light emerged around a bend, and Jack sighed relief as he recognized the tunnels of Dolareido.

Right, this was the large chamber Azamel liked, where she set up her strange fake home with her couch, chair, and bed. It was a special place for her. Was this why? The ability to just come and go to it through their nightmares was pretty powerful, a way for them to get into the real world together, in a predictable location. The Invictus surrounding it in explosives must have really bothered Azamel.

"Good day!" Fiona say. "I bring food for ye!" When Harcourt yelped and stepped back, she laughed and shook her head. "I'm just fucking wit ye."

Athalia and Mark all got up, staring at the group of them and the hunter they brought, frowns blatant. Azamel, on the other hand, barely turned her head enough to see them, before sighing once she took a drag of her cigarette. The very sight of her froze Harcourt to a standstill, and Damien had to give him a small shove to get him moving.

"What's this about?" Azamel said.

"I'm launching an attack on the hunters in moments," Jack said. "I wouldn't have to visit like this if you got some phones and lived somewhere with reception, you know."

Azamel shrugged, as if she'd heard the argument before a hundred times, and simply didn't care. Probably true. "You know where the hunters are?"

"Aye, we do! Thanks to this lad." Fiona walked them up to the stage to stand in front of Azamel, and she gave Harcourt a hard pat on the back, enough to make the man nearly jump. Poor dude was surrounded by vampires and monsters, and they could all sense the fear on him, smell it, and practically hear his heart beat; if there were any werewolves with them, they could have.

Before the dumb man could start blabbering, Jack waved a hand to him and shooed him back from the stage a foot.

"Yes, this man is a hunter. I've tested his mind and can confirm he's telling the truth about who he is and his intentions." His words would have a lot more weight than Harcourt's, and if the man started talking, the hunter would probably piss the old monster off. Dead, he was useless to Jack. Alive, he might get something out of this. "He wants to help us deal with Angela and Jeremiah, specifically."

"Does he now?" Athalia hopped off the stage, marched up to Harcourt, glared at him, threw Jack a hard glance in the corner of her eye, and glared at Harcourt some more. If a look could kill, Harcourt would have exploded. "You want to kill my daughter?"

"Oh god it's you." Harcourt stepped further back, but he didn't get far before his shoulder hit Damien's. Damien didn't move, except to put a hand on Harcourt's shoulder, and force him to hold still.

"Yeah, it's me, the bitch from Hell. What shit has my daughter been telling you?"

"Nothing! Nothing. I mean, she's brought up some things about nightmares, and the weird things you did to her, destroying things and stuff. I don't have anything to say about that! No ma'am. All I want is those two taken off the board. Lot of good people are dying helping them, not realizing what's going on, and—"

Jack stepped up, and pulled Athalia way by the shoulder. If that went on any longer, the monster was bound to hurt him. "He's just a guy who realizes his hunter friends have been tricked by Jeremiah."

Then she turned on him. Athalia poked her finger into Jack's chest, though he could see a moment's regret in her gaze. She was afraid of him now, and had jabbed him out of reflex, not remembering he'd become a different monster. It was tempting, to pounce on the opportunity and scare her, terrify her, make it known that he wasn't to be pushed around anymore.

But that was the Beast talking. Jack, on the other hand, took a small step back, and held up his hands. "I'm trying to help you, and us."

"I'm supposed to trust you?" she said.

"Yeah, you are. Have I ever lied to you? Steered you wrong?" He folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

"No..."

"I tested this man's mind myself. He's telling the truth, and is genuinely trying to help. And if he's been tricked, well, he's coming along in case something goes wrong."

"He's coming with you?" Azamel said.

"Yes, he is. For all I know, he's been tricked by Elen and her magic, into triggering this ploy." Though, from what Harcourt said, it was more likely that the Crone was involved. "I could lock him up, for interrogation, but we wouldn't get anything useful out of him. Jeremiah is too smart to let his hunters know too much. The man knows the location of Elen's portal tonight, and he might be able to provide some value to me in the shitstorm to follow. He might be able to convince his friends to stop fighting us, and give up Jeremiah and your daughter. He might be able to recognize a tactical maneuver they commit to, and tell me how to best respond."

The old woman blew some more smoke, before setting the cigarette aside. She leaned forward in her rocking chair, a motion that forced a groan and creak from her old body. "This is a major gamble, vampire."

"It is, but the more we sit around waiting, the more time we give Jeremiah to compensate and adapt to the situation. Guerrilla warfare is a hunter's game. We have to do this and do it now." Before Angela figures out another way to hurt the Kindred, and Jack specifically. Julias was already dead, his sister too, and if someone else he cared about died, he was going to crack.

"True," the old woman said. "If this hunter is telling the truth and has not been tricked, and if you can pull this maneuver of yours off, it will be the deciding factor in this confrontation. I assume you're here to request my help?"

"Yes, I am. Come help me. I'm not going to have the backing of my covenant for this; this is way too risky for any Invictus to agree to. Hell, Michael's going to have my ass in a sling for doing this."

"As he should, vampire." The old monster shook her head, like an angry grandmother annoyed with her grandchild. "This approach is dangerous, radical, and vampires are used to weathering storms, for decades if need be."

"Maybe the older ones are. I'm young and impulsive. The Invictus, the Prince, even the Carthians would probably like to play this safe and let the storm pass, because you're the primary target, not them. But I want to help. And... I've become a target, too." He turned back to Athalia, and her eyes fell. Weight dragged her down, bringing her shoulders and posture down with it. Her daughter was to blame for Jack's pain. She knew it, he knew it, and it made every interaction they had hard as fuck. "I assume Athalia wants to come. This is the best opportunity she has of saving her daughter's life."

Save her? We're not saving Angela! Kill her. Rip open her throat, and drink the blood as it squirts out. Watch the life drain from that sheep's eye, and indulge in the kill. You're a predator, Jack. She's prey, prey that had the nerve to bite you. Make her suffer, and then make her die.

Jack kept his best stone face while the voice ranted. Yes, he wanted to kill Angela. He wanted revenge. He wanted to hurt her for the crimes she'd committed against him, his family, and his friends. He wanted to crush her skull for killing Julias.

But, seeing Athalia looking miserable tugged at something inside him, and for the fucking life of him, he couldn't ignore it. She wanted to save her daughter, or at least capture her and try to rehabilitate; a lost cause, but what else could a mother do for her daughter. If the opportunity presented itself, Jack would capture her, but only if the opportunity was blatant, and safe. Broken legs, broken arms, no hunters nearby, and with Jeremiah dead and Elen too, was the only chance for Angela's life to be spared, and only if it happened by accident.

The chances of that happening were slim to none. In all likelihood, the moment the opportunity presented itself, Jack was going to kill her, and smile doing it. Feeling bad for Athalia could come later.

"I... would like to come," Athalia said. "I have to come. If I can do something, about Angela, I... I should."

Azamel snorted, only to erupt in a nasty cough. Everyone went silent as they waited for the old monster to recover, a form of respect that had Harcourt's eyebrows raising as he looked around.

"You may go, Athalia, but Mark and I will stay here. Fiona, you're not going anywhere."

"What!? But I—"

"You may intervene if the hunters enter the nightmare realm, Fiona, but you are too young for this madness. Need I remind you, you nearly died once already?"

Pouting and shaking her little fists, Fiona looked down and stomped a foot once. It was easy to forget that, while Vrall was an ancient monster with plenty of experience, Fiona was a young woman. It was Vrall who'd been shot up last time, but this time they wouldn't be in the nightmare, and Fiona would be in a much greater danger.

Fiona marched up to Damien, but before she could say anything, the man put up his hands.

"I agree with Azamel, Fiona. If we're in the nightmare world, sure, we'd love Vrall's help. But out here, it's... it's going to be brutal. I can survive a bullet to the head. Vrall can take a dozen bullet wounds, and survive. Can you?"

"... nae, I cannae."

"Yeah," Jack said. "I wasn't sure how to say it, but yeah. What about Mark? Is he—"

"Mark stays with me," Azamel said. "I would not be surprised if Jeremiah tries something desperate, in response to this ludicrous plan of yours, vampire. He's been hunting for a way to assault me without losing his life in the process, but if that's no longer an option for him, I expect to find him at my door."

Jack frowned at her, and found his gaze slowly turning into a glare; he could feel the strain in his eyes. It was enough to draw Azamel's glare, returned and hard, battling against him. She knew what she was saying, that of the four powerful monsters living in Dolareido, who the hunters were here to kill, Azamel was only letting one of them come with him. Half of this effort was to save her life and the lives of her young Begotten kin, and yet she was denying him aid.

Mark shrugged, sat back down on the couch upon the concrete stage, and pulled out a laptop.

Fucking great, lovely, what a perfect night for launching a crazy attack. Jessy and Natasha were missing, and so were the three werewolves he may have been able to recruit. Of the four monsters he could take, only Athalia was coming, and Vrall was on the maybe list if the fight somehow moved into the nightmare world. If it weren't for Clara agreeing to come, he'd call this off.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't do this. Didn't he learn from the last time he launched a surprise attack on the hunters? They used explosives and nearly killed him and his friends. And at the hospital, he thought his sire and him could handle them there, but they couldn't. This whole night seemed like he was repeating the mistake.

No. No it wasn't the same. This time, they had inside help. This time, he had the curse. This time, he'd handle things himself, and everyone else could stand back and watch. This time, the blood was going to pour. This time, he'd—

"Jack," Azamel said, "do not spare Elen's life. The magic she knows is a twisted, horrible thing. It will seduce you with promises of impossibilities becoming impossible. End her life."

"Impossibilities?"

"Yes. She knows how to manipulate flesh, and I am sure such a skill has been extended to... otherworldly ends. I assume Jacob and Antoinette will want her, and I am telling you to kill her if given the chance. It may be the key to freeing the Begotten in the Prince's cage from the spell that binds him."

"I thought that seal thing would fade?"

"It will, I am sure, but I would not have a fellow Begotten trapped so. Of course, for all I know, it will take years for that seal to fade. And besides, what if Jeremiah escapes? You will need the Begotten's help."

If he killed Elen, Antoinette would be upset, and Jacob would be livid with him.

"I'll...yeah, I probably will. I can't imagine letting her live."

"Good."

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~~Beatrice~

Finally. Fucking finally.

She smiled down at her phone, slipped it into her jeans' pocket, and prepared for war.

"We really doing this?" Jennifer asked.

"Me and the boys are. You're staying outside."

"I am most certainly not. I helped last time."

"Last time there were only a few of them, and distracted, and—"

"And this time there'll be many of us distracting many of them. I can—"

Beatrice threw up a hand and shook her head. "No! No. Just no, ok? You're a young vampire, and—fuck me, I'm a young vampire, ok? I'm too young to be doing this, but I have to. I know the ritual. So you stay back, watch the entrance I make, and cover our backs."

That didn't settle well with Jennifer, but too fucking bad. Beatrice had lost enough. She had no intentions of losing her best friend.

"You expect me to sit back and watch you go in, after you perform this ritual? You told me what it'd do to you!"

"I'll recover, well enough to be useful. And there's no fucking way I'm missing the fight." No fucking way she'd miss the chance to kill Angela, or at least see the light leave her eyes. She had to die. She had to fucking die. Even if Athalia, weeping a storm, held the bleeding, also weeping body of her daughter, Beatrice would laugh and kill the hunter bitch.

Jennifer, Beatrice, Othello, and Aaron all stood within the cave they lived in, gathered in the center and mentally preparing. Or at least, she was mentally preparing. She wasn't sure if Othello had enough brain to do something like that, and Aaron was always mentally prepared.

They were all dressed in jeans and t-shirts, nothing impressive or distinct, nothing that would give them an edge in battle. Shit like bulletproof vests were more hassle than they were worth, when you were trying to jump around and dodge with the speed and strength of a Kindred. Maybe if the hunters started using fire, a fire-repellent suit of some kind could be useful? Heh, probably not. She laughed, imagining a vampire in a big full body suit, like a space suit, walking through fire.

Jacob was off doing whatever it was that he did when he disappeared for weeks at a time. Probably plotting how to take over Dolareido. Nah, more like, plotting how to summon an ancient demon to be his new buddy, so he could rule the world. Something along those lines. But that was a big part of the joy of being in the Circle, that they didn't need Jacob's permission to do shit. Hell, he encouraged them to do whatever the fuck they wanted, and right now she wanted to kill Angela and Jeremiah. Kill them dead.

"We got your back," Othello said. "Is the ritual going to be hard?"

"It'll leave me pretty fucked up, not gonna lie. But I'll still be mobile enough for the fight. No way am I missing this."

Aaron raised a hand. "Who's Jack bringing?"

"Not sure. Everyone he can get his hands on, probably. Which... probably doesn't include any Invictus. I doubt Mary or Michael would allow this blitzkrieg ambush tactic of his. Way too risky. And Antoinette's going to skin Jack alive when he gets back, so I'm not sure he could convince Natasha to go against her wishes." Jack would get back, though, no doubt about it. The least Beatrice could do for the kid was keep him alive after all he'd done. "But Jessy and Damien will probably come, even knowing their bosses will break their legs for it. Eric might come too."

Part of her was still angry at him, for Julias dying. It was hard to ignore that it was Jack and his mother's fault that Julias stuck his neck out, but over the weeks it grew easier to accept that it was neither of their faults. Superman had been one of the kindest men she'd ever known, and that kindness got him killed; more like, asshole hunters taking advantage of that kindness got him killed. Those assholes needed to die.

"Hope we get some werewolves with us," Othello said. "They can frontline better than we can."

"Well I doubt Avery will let any of her pups come on this insanity either."

"Clara will," Jennifer said.

Triss raised a brow. "She will?"

"She will. From what you've told me about her, and from what I remember at the ball, I think she likes Jack quite a bit. More than a bit. And these Uratha behave like Carthians, completely uncontrolled without a sensible thought in their head. Plus, Jack knows her, and he knows we'll need the wolves to help us if we want this to succeed."

Beatrice nodded, tapping a claw against one of her crocodile teeth. "In the end, it doesn't matter. Jack and his curse are going to be doing the heavy lifting, and he says we have to do this tonight, or it's not happening. We're going balls to the walls here, and we're going to make this work. Jeremiah and Angela are dead after tonight, and Elen..." Shrugging, she started for the cave exit. "Jacob wants her. If we capture her, fine. If we end up killing her, I... No, I'd prefer to capture her alive if we can."

Elen could manipulate flesh with magic, and that was one more piece of a puzzle Triss was slowly pursuing. If she could make it work, why not?