My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 17

Two crows flew overhead, and Jack smiled up at Mulder and Scully as they found a perch on a tree nearby. Too many unknown faces around for them to feel comfortable on his shoulder.

"Marge! Dennis!" Harcourt ran out to meet them as they bordered on the forest edge. Daniel reached for his sword, but Jack threw the man a quick glance. He wasn't in a position to boss a sheriff around, and—maybe he was? Maybe he was strong enough to beat Daniel in a fight? No, he refused let the curse twist his thoughts. Logic, civility, they were his tools, his best tools.

Christ, how easy it was to let power corrupt. Make a decision you think is the right one, and instead of dealing with others and red tape, simply brute force your decision onto everyone else with that power. It was fine as long as it was done with good intentions, right? The birthing thoughts of a tyrant.

Daniel met his gaze, and held it for a couple seconds longer than Jack thought he would. For a moment, the possibility that Daniel would act and kill the three hunters was very real. But, Antoinette said nothing. She folded her arms across her chest, and watched the three hunters, ready to kill at a moment's notice, same as Daniel. To them, the hunters were the only threats in the room.

"You promised them amnesty?" Antoinette said.

"I... yeah, basically. For Harcourt, and at his request, any hunters that laid down their arms." And now the tricky part, following through on promises he hadn't been in a position to make.

Jennifer ran to Beatrice, wrapped her arms around her, and squeezed. Aaron ran to Othello, and shook the man a few times by the shoulder before sitting beside him. Fiona guarded over Damien, clutching him tightly to her dark, beautiful spider body. Sándor sat by Azamel, exhausted and, unless Jack was reading him wrong, ready to pass out. He might have even been ready to cry, if he'd been alone. Considering what he'd just done, and what Jeremiah had done to him, Jack wasn't surprised. Harcourt, and Marge and Dennis hugged each other in the chaos, and they were crying, Marge loudly, and the two guys doing their best to keep their tears silent. Christ, what a mess.

And Antoinette could see it, too. It was a mess, a huge fucking mess. Decisions could be made later.

"I will take the three hunters into custody," she said. "I will talk with them, and we will see what I allow."

"Fuck, really?" Harcourt said. The reality of his situation was finally sinking in, the adrenaline of the action fading away. "I thought, since I helped Jack that... um... I guess we don't have a choice, do we?" He wiped away a tear, recovering quickly from his emotional reunion, but it was obvious he was terrified of what Antoinette might do to him.

"No. You do not. Understand that Dolareido is my city, hunter, and you three are prisoners of war. It is only by my good graces, and Jack's impulsive actions, that you survive our encounter at all." She came a step closer to the hunter, glared ice daggers into his eyes, and the man visibly shrank. "Daniel, take them to the tower, and imprison th... constrain them, in the first floor cells." Well, at least she took a stab at some measure of civility.

Harcourt looked to Jack, but Jack nodded back to him, confident. As long as the hunters didn't know some sort of weakness about Dolareido they could exploit, Antoinette would be lenient. Daniel probably less so, but he wasn't the one making the decisions.

Daniel stepped up to the three hunters, and they quivered. They'd surrendered to a powerful and terrible enemy, as far as Marge and Dennis were concerned; it was painted on their faces. One wrong move, and they'd get sliced up, Kissed to death, or embraced against their will. A bunch of bullshit that wasn't accurate, at least not in Dolareido, but Dolareido was unique. According to Harcourt, vampires could get pretty nasty in other cities.

Yeah, as if the curse hadn't just unleashed a whole bunch of nasty for all of them to see. And now, when he looked to the hunters, he could see fear. A mountain of fear. A fucking galaxy of fear. As much as Marge and Dennis looked at everyone, especially Antoinette and Daniel, with considerable fear, they looked at Jack with abject terror. In the past, it'd have made him happy to know the hunters feared him so. Now, it only added to the nausea eating at him.

Elen's whereabouts itched at him. She couldn't have gotten up and walked away, not with a body like that. Someone had to have come and taken her, and the only people capable of that, Jack was looking at. No one else was in the nightmare. Right?

Antoinette had dismissed worrying about her. Had she taken Elen somewhere before coming into Athalia's nightmare? No way, no time. Did someone else come? The portals were still open, and—

"Oh shit! Are the doors still open?" Jack said.

"The door I opened still is," Beatrice said. "I can close it by ending the ritual. And it'll probably close with sunrise, anyway."

Aaron shook his head. "The one Jeremiah cut open isn't. It closed the moment I stopped holding it open."

"Don't worry," Fiona said. "I can take us out. Or... or Sándor can." The spider woman looked — again, Jack could only guess she was looking — at Azamel, and sighed. "Azamel will want to stay in the nightmare, for now, until she... heals."

"Yes, she will," the elephant said with the labor of someone breathing on one lung.

If there was any doubt that Azamel wasn't deeply injured, Fiona wiped it away. Azamel was hurt, badly. And fuck him, after all this, it was a sour note that really jived with the sour mess he'd left in Athalia's chamber, minutes ago.

What was that old line? Gotta take the bitter with the sweet? For once, it'd be great if it was just sweet, and not bitter.

God, he missed candy. Heh, random thought.

"Surprised you didn't see me, Prince, when you showed up," Aaron said. "I was in the... I guess I was literally in the wall, behind you. More in the flesh chamber, than in the nightmare. Could barely see through the hole." The nightmare did keep trying to go back to its original state, so that made sense.

The Prince considered that for a moment, tapped her chin as she looked at Aaron, before finally turning to Jack. "Jack, come with me. The rest of you"—Antoinette turned and faced the unusual group—"should go home. Sándor, I freed you from my cell, but if you remain in Dolareido, you will still be under my rule. If you decide to stay, visit my tower as soon as possible." Slowly, she turned to look back at Beatrice, who was sharing a weak hug with Jen. It looked like she wanted to hug harder, but the poor girl was beat to fuck. "All Kindred present will visit my tower tomorrow night, understood?"

If Othello were conscious, Jack got the impression he might say something stupid, like 'you're not our boss'. And then Antoinette would promptly break his arm, given the ice Jack could see in her eyes. It was true that, while none of them were members of the Ordo Dracul, the Prince was still the Prince, and they all had to answer to her. Normally she'd go through their bosses, but she was here, in person, and it was perfectly within her rights to dole out some orders, and punishment, if she felt like it.

"Sándor," she continued, "can you open a doorway to... somewhere convenient?"

The gargoyle nodded, before gesturing to the rest of them with one of his many hands. "You all can... stay, if needed. It's... been a long time, since others have..." His voice trailed off, and he held still as he looked down. Completely still, like a statue.

The gargoyle, despite the booming bass and almost hidden rasp underneath his voice, talked casually, if rather unemotionally. It was strange. When something that big and ancient-looking spoke, you expected to hear something regal. And he did, a little, in how calmly he spoke, and how clearly he roared when killing Jeremiah. But now that the battle was over, he'd grown quiet, stern, and curt.

Poor guy. He'd lost his son and wife to the fucker, and was turned into a tool. Killing Jeremiah, literally eating Jeremiah, was the ultimate revenge, and yet he still looked broken, and defeated. His wife and son weren't coming back. Mary wasn't coming back either, and neither was Julias. Revenge soothed the aching rage Jack felt in his guts when he thought of Angela, thought of her corpse with a bullet through the skull, thought of the cold body that couldn't hurt him or his loved ones anymore. Soothed, but didn't heal. He felt drained, and tired, just like how he knew Beatrice felt, and Sándor too.

And while Angela's corpse couldn't hurt him anymore, it could still hurt Athalia, hurt her like a dagger through the soul.

Before they left, Daniel walked around and collected the various artifacts, the strange occult items that'd been handed out to the hunters, and the big book that looked like someone with a chainsaw for a hand had read from it. Groovy. Well, it made sense they'd want the items, and better they take it, he supposed, than them just sitting around. And, better them than Jacob.

Jack looked to Beatrice one last time, before he followed Antoinette in the direction Sándor pointed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Up the road, into the castle, and into the hallway they'd all come from. This time, leaving the hallway was as simple as opening one of the doors within, and stepping into a dark room. From the dark room, they opened another door, and voila, they were in Antoinette's Elysium Tower, in the hallway outside of the cell he recognized as Sándor's.

Jack and Antoinette went first. Daniel and the three hunters followed behind. The sounds of their gasps was enough to make Jack smile a little, but the smile vanished when he caught a glimpse of Antoinette's icy stare. She was angry in that special way only a lover could be, but also combined with the anger mastered only by bosses, and queens.

Maria and Michael were going to be livid with him, but also happy. He'd produced results. He'd done what everyone else had been failing to do. He'd defeated the hunters, and had gotten revenge. The first would earn him great esteem with the Invictus, and the second would seal his reputation with the First Estate as a Ventrue to not be trifled with. The issue was smoothing over his rashness with Michael; Maria, not so much, since she was officially no longer a true member of the Invictus. Michael held the reputation of the Invictus in great importance, almost the most important thing, and Jack was sure he could appeal to that side of him.

"You're... not going to kill us, are you?" Harcourt said.

"I am a woman of my word," Antoinette said. "You hunters believe us vampires soulless brutes, who indulge in murder for the joy of it." Sighing, she shook her head, and motioned down the hall of black marble. "Do not think so highly of yourselves. We have souls, hunters, and that is how some of us are capable of enjoying murder. It is also how some of us refuse to give into such blood lust. Be happy we do have souls, hunters, else little would stop me from simply killing you to protect what is mine."

And with that, Daniel took the hunters. They looked a bit stunned, on top of all the stunning they'd been getting all night, but said nothing as the vampire in the trench coat with the big sword guided them along.

Soon, Jack was alone, with Antoinette, in a long hall of marble. The stone felt especially cold, and Jack struggled to keep from looking down. He failed, and looked at his filthy shoes. Filthy, but not filthy. The dirt was fading, dissipating, in a not dissimilar manner to Kindred blood, just without the tiny bits of flame and ash. It was material from the dream world. Made sense it'd fade away.

Unfortunately, the damage to his clothes did not. He was shirtless, didn't have his weapons, and his pants had large tears cut into them. And now that everyone was gone, he did notice, for a tiny fraction of a second, an intrigued look from Antoinette. She liked what she saw. The look was replaced with frustration and annoyance instantly.

"Your phone?" she said.

"My phone? I—shit. It's still in the nightmare." Along with all my other gear. "Guaranteed it's shattered."

Sighing, Antoinette withdrew her own, and began texting. It was funny, watching her use a smartphone. He almost expected her to give orders to a servant to do it for her, or for her to use speech-to-text, since that'd be more in line with giving orders.

"Your mother is now aware you live."

"My mom. Right... right."

"You are to meet with her in thirty minutes, in the recreation room on floor B5."

"Yes sir!" He stood up straight, rigid, military posture, and saluted. But attempts at humor failed, unable to melt the ice wall standing before him.

"Let us go to my room, to speak privately. When we are done, you will speak to your mother. And then, you may contact the Invictus however you wish."

"Right, right." Sighing, he followed after her, down the many stairs into the deepest parts of her tower. The safe door was open, and once he stepped in, she pulled the enormous door closed, sealing them in her master bedroom.

He knew Antoinette wouldn't hurt him, but for a moment, he felt like a boy trapped in a cage with a tiger.

"Sit," she said, and she gestured to her bed. Gulping, he did just that, and waited for the inevitable verbal lashing. "The hunters are defeated?"

"Yes."

"I saw many corpses, some crucified upon trees."

"The ones on the trees were already there. And all the dead hunters on the ground in that clearing, Elen killed with her magic. I killed a few before that, on the way to that clearing."

"Ah, oui. I found one corpse at the door to the village, from Sándor's castle."

"That one was Clara. I killed some others. You know I killed the hunters helping Angela. I killed some in the flesh chamber, too. But the majority were killed by Elen to fuel her rituals." Antoinette had Elen's knife now, since the old woman had dropped it when fleeing, but he doubted it was special. The book, on the other hand, must have been, and deadly powerful, if Antoinette could read it. And all the other artifacts, maybe they had special powers. "I'm pretty sure Elen can do everything she does without any of those artifacts though, or she can create more."

"I see. Then... I find it terribly frustrating that Jacob has her."

Jack blinked at her, stood up, sat back down, and winced. "Elen disappeared, didn't she?"

"In a way. I noticed the presence of Black Blood, and her disappearing body. I can only assume Jacob, or perhaps Black Blood alone, came to the dream, and stole away the shaman when the chance presented itself." With a sigh to mimic his own, she came to sit next to him, took his hand, and set it on her lap.

"Fuck. I knew Black Blood could penetrate dreams, I just... I didn't think—"

"You did not think at all, my love." She stared down at his hand, but her expression softened considerably. Soon, she was stroking his knuckles with her left hand, while her right held his hand against her leg. With her head aimed down, her hair flowed down over her shoulder on the opposite side of her head from him, a white curtain reaching down to her other leg. "So obsessed with defeating the hunters, you forget that other threats could take advantage. Forever the Carthians seek to hit the Invictus when they are weak. Forever, Jacob stirs chaos, and invites struggle to my city, in his barbaric need to weed out the weak. And... and, I know that you know, my love, about the unseen presence that lurks within my city, something powerful and deadly, with unknown intent."

He winced again, and looked down at her hands, same as she was for his. Damn it, she did know. He knew she knew, and he knew she knew he knew, but they'd never really said it, talked about it, and laid it out in the open. It wasn't the vampire way. Better to keep secrets, than to spread them and lose a valuable tool. Worse, better to keep the mouth closed, than have a loosed secret get someone killed.

"And... and because I went full ham attacking these hunters, I—"

"You created chaos, and these factions could have taken advantage in any number of ways. What if Garry had discovered what you were doing, my love, and arranged for troubles to befall you? Your curse may be strong enough to protect you, but what of your friends, Damien, Beatrice, Fiona, and Clara." The word Clara came out of her mouth with the tiniest hint of venom. "This unknown thing that hides within my walls may have struck out in this madness. Or, Jacob may have... as he did."

A slow, cold chill worked up through Jack's body. Jacob would have happily waited, while Jeremiah killed more vampires and monsters, until an opportunity presented itself for him to benefit. And to Jacob, anything to shake up the peace of Dolareido was a good thing.

"It's Jacob though. We can trust him, a little, right? I've seen him... seen him at his worst, I think, and I don't think he'd actively harm Dolareido. He loves this city, in a strange way."

"Do not underestimate the man's ability to deceive. And, do not underestimate an elder's desire to control and dominate." Her right hand slipped away from his, and slid over his shoulders. "I can understand your actions, my love. For all my anger and annoyance with your brashness, I can both understand, and appreciate what you have done tonight. A great thorn has been removed from my side, and only time will tell if Jacob's actions will be a detriment to my city."

"But, uh, you seem pretty angry. Like, I'm half expecting to get staked and thrown in a dungeon, Antoinette."

That managed to pull a smile from her. Good. He was really getting worried.

"I am beyond livid... but not with you, not truly."

"Say what?"

Her right arm hugged him in close, tight to the side of her chest. "Were you in your elder years, it would be easier to explain. My kind naturally incline toward decisions that pit time against our enemies. Rashness and bravado is how most young Kindred die, Jack. Of all the fates that can befall neonates, it is hastiness that has destroyed the most."

"But, I knew with the curse that I'd be able to—"

"And perhaps, that is what has angered me, Jack. To know that you willingly embraced its power, this mark of the Strix, terrifies me. Striges are our enemies, Jack. They exist to create chaos, and suffering. They exist to spread their destructive view that Kindred must be predators, and kine can only be prey; at least, so one Ordo hypothesis proclaims." She got up, and started to pace, one arm hooked under her breasts while her other, elbow held by the other hand, moved about in the air as she talked. A professor, giving a lecture, pacing around in front of a white board. "It angers me to no end, that these trials fall upon you, a neonate barely out of his fledgling years. You should be deferring to your sire, who would then defer to the leader of your covenant. I can guarantee you, little Ventrue, that Michael would have voted against this attack, in favor of something safer."

"But more people would have died! I didn't have time to debate it, or get a second opinion. We only had hours, and—"

"I am not finished." Again she glared at him, and he froze. Gulp. "People die. We accept that. It is in our best interest to make decisions that have the greatest chance of success, with a calculated loss. Surely you understand that. From the many conversations you and I have had, my love, I have come to know your mind, and I appreciate your ability to think logically. For all the words of poets and the courageous, life rarely rewards carpe diem. Those who take the path less traveled, those who pounce upon opportunity without looking where they leap, those who believe strong will and determination will lead them to success against their obstacles, fail. They, in overwhelming droves, fail, and often die. Life is cruel, my love. Do you understand that?"