My Little Ventrue Pt. 07 Ch. 20

"You could say that." Mary smiled, a disturbing image, empty gaze pointed at Fiona.

Fiona didn't even blink. Despite it being Fiona's, and hell, everyone's first ghost encounter, ghosts probably ranked pretty low on the strange things Fiona had seen, considering her origins. Or rather, Vrall's origins. Maybe Fiona knew more than Jack figured?

"What about her mother?" Mary said. "The other... monster. Athalia."

Jack frowned. He didn't remember mentioning anything about Angela's mother to Mary. Which probably meant his mom had been visiting Mary without telling him, and without telling Antoinette either. God damn it.

"She lives," Jack said, after giving his mom a harsh glare. "She wasn't the enemy. But, she's... she's... pretty broken. I'm not sure what she's going to do."

His mom put up a hand, just a few inches, enough to get their attention. "I'm going to talk with her."

Jack shook his head. "I still don't think that's a good, Mom. I don't even think she's going to come to the ball."

"Then I'll talk with her somewhere else."

"Mom, you can't--"

"I'm going to talk to her, Jack. I have to... have to talk to her."

"She could kill you!"

"She won't kill me. You don't understand."

"Damn right I don't understand. She's a broken woman, Mom, and she hates me. She'll blame me for what happened to Angela, and--"

"And I blame Angela for what happened to Mary! My daughter is dead because of her, and her mother is a part of that!"

Jack lifted his head, and stared at his mom, eyes going wide. The ghost beside him shimmered, broke into pieces, and melted into the fog. It'd already been cold, sitting beside her, but the temperature dropped a few more degrees, and the mist around their feet rose a foot. Everyone held still and looked around slowly as the lights flickered, darkness creeping up around them. Darker, and darker, until the lights went out entirely.

The mist moved, rolling over the floor, the stairs, and around people's legs as it began to swirl. The curtains flapped against the rising breeze, and Jack stood up as it increased to a full wind. He grabbed the railing as the cold seeped into his bones, and he gulped down the rising panic. It was stupid to bring Damien and Fiona. Now they were caught up in family drama that was quickly going to turn into a horror story if he didn't do something.

"Mary," Jack said, "I... I came to tell you about Angela, because--"

"I know!" the ghost screamed. Her voice was short, harsh, and a bit of the banshee wail he'd heard from her before joined in. It was not a pleasant noise, and Jack pulled his head back a bit when she spoke. "I... I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead."

"I'm sorry baby!" his mom said to the darkness around them. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... to say it like that."

Jack shut his mouth and ground his teeth into powder. Much as he loved his sister, his mom was much closer to her. The best Jack was likely to do right now was put Damien and Fiona through what he went through, the first time he met Mary the ghost. Damien could survive that, Fiona might not.

"It's... it's ok..." Slowly, with far greater control than Jack figured an angry banshee creature would be able to summon, Mary calmed down. It took time, a painful eternity of listening to the ghost cry, shriek, wail, and sob. It was crazy how she went from calm and talking one moment, to psychotic the next, but despite that, she started to settle.

"What now?" His mom said. "What... what do we do now?"

The fog lowered until it covered only their feet again, and Mary's ghastly noises stopped. With a couple more minutes, Mary's form reappeared, in the living room a few feet from them, drifting around in a circle close to the ceiling. She looked so sad, even when she smiled.

"I don't know. I... I'm happy, happy that Angela's gone, and Mom and Jack are safe. But I don't... don't know what to do. I don't want to leave."

"Oh, Mary." Their mom moved from the railing to the living room, and stood in its center, looking up at her daughter. If Mary had been solid, Jack knew his mom would have been doing everything in her power to hug her as much as she could. "You don't have to leave! You can stay, as long as you want, and--"

"Mom, you can't say that." Jack joined her, and gave Damien a glance over his shoulder as he did. The message was clear: sorry I let you two see this, mistake, please leave. Damien nodded, took the staring Fiona with him, and left.

"I can say what I want. This is my house, and she's my daughter."

"Mom, she's dead! This... Mary isn't alive, you said it yourself. This isn't good for anyone. We have to let her go."

"We don't have to do anything!" His mom marched up to him and glared at him, a classic glare he'd grown to hate in the past, her 'this is how I feel and my feelings are valid no matter what your logic says' glare. He'd have any easier time breaking a wall with his face, than getting through to her when she was like this.

"Mom," Mary said, "I--"

"No! No, I don't want to let you go! I... I... don't want to lose my daughter, like Athalia did hers!"

Silence fell on them again. Even Mary, still hovering around in the air above them, didn't make a peep, no moan or banshee wail or anything. Everyone stood still, and let the reality sink in.

"Mom," the ghost said, "it's ok." It was eerie, how deathly calm Mary had grown, after listening to her mom lament.

"It's not ok!"

"Mom." Mary hovered down to float in front of her. Jack had a hard time looking his dead sister in the face, but his mom didn't flinch. The fact her daughter had empty eye sockets and gaunt cheeks didn't bother her at all. "I've been... thinking, a lot. It's hard to think. Every thought feels real, and I get so lost in them, in the memories, in things that aren't real."

"Honey, please, you can--"

"I need to speak, Mom! I need to say this. I need to... before it slips away." She shook her head hard, enough for her hair to bounce around in a motion far too jagged to be natural. "It was there, and now it's gone. Angela, I mean. She... she killed me, and now it's gone, the chain around my feet. And that's ok. It's all ok. Please, don't... don't make things harder than they have to be. I don't want to go, but I know I should."

"But... baby, that... that doesn't mean you have to go."

"It does, Mom. It does! It... does!" Mary screamed the last word, and Samantha flinched back. Flinch turned into squeak as Mary's arms reached out and tried to grab her. Not try, did. Their mom's squeak turned into a gasp and short-lived scream as Mary's grip sank into her shoulders, and the moment Mary realized she'd hurt her, she let out her own scream. A proper scream. A banshee's scream.

Mary flew back, and threw herself into the corner of the room, the corner where they used to keep the Christmas tree. Her body hit the wall hard, and Jack froze for a moment, watching his sister twist and squirm in the corner, as he ran to his mom and set his hands on her shoulders.

"Mom!"

"I'm ok, I'm ok. I..." Her suit jacket was torn in both shoulders, and Jack could see through it to the torn shirt underneath, and torn skin underneath that. If she'd been alive, she'd have been bleeding from ten nasty gashes.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." Mary, now curled up in the corner with her hands wrapping her head, peeked up from behind her forearms at them. "Please don't be mad. Please, I--"

"Mary Terry, you know I could never be mad at you." As if a ghost hadn't just nearly ripped her arms off, their mom walked over to the corner with Mary, and knelt down into the mist Mary was half merged with. "I'll be fine. Vampire, see?" She showed her arms to her daughter's ghost, smiling the whole time. "It's ok. You just focus on telling us what you wanted to say." The pain must have been great, but his mom acted like she wasn't in pain at all.

Jack frowned from behind his mother, but watching Mary shudder in her corner like a frightened dog, frightened by her own temper, ripped the frown off his face. Ow. The sight of her, trembling, struggling, was cold ice over his body, and all attempts to be impartial about the ghost haunting his old home faded away. He wanted to help her, same as his mom did.

No, you fucking idiot. It's a ghost. It's not your sister. You have to help her move on, to pass over into the afterlife, or to disperse into the ethereal or ether, or do whatever it was that ghosts did!

"Sorry, sorry! I... I have to tell you though, have to, have to." She forced her arms down, and Jack gulped as he met her face again. The empty eye sockets, he gaunt features, it'd all grown worse, as if she'd begun to rot before their eyes. But, after a few more seconds, she managed to return to her earlier self, doing her best to look good for her mom and brother. "Thank you Jack, for getting... for killing Angela. I can feel it, a tether, a noose, it's gone."

"Then--"

"I can't! I can't. Something's... something's out there, Mom. Something's going on, and I can see it."

"See it?" Jack said.

"See it! There's lines. Someone drew lines. They're... they're in the city."

"In the city?" He came closer and knelt by her. This was starting to sound dangerously like information about the lurking presence in the city.

"Yes, in the city. Something's out there, Jack. Something's... drawing lines, and they're... tearing. I can see through them sometimes, see to places where things are... are moving, shapes in the darkness. I don't want to go there. I don't want to go there. I don't want to go there. I don't want to go there."

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

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

~~Antoinette~~

Antoinette leaned back in her office chair, and looked up at the ceiling.

"Problems?" Elaine said, her voice coming through Antoinette's laptop speakers.

"Of a sort."

"Do tell."

"Jacob." Antoinette looked back to the laptop, and offered her old friend a small smile.

Based on the background she could see, Elaine was in a different room compared to last time. Her exact location, Ann did not know, but it was better that elders did not trade exact locations when on the move. Crossing territory was when an elder, or indeed any Kindred, was at their most vulnerable. Should a hunter catch wind of where Elaine was at this exact moment, it was not unthinkable for them to organize a strike against her while she slept. Her current location would no doubt not be as defensible as her home fortress.

"What is the old bastard up to?"

"He conspires with spiritual forces of ill intent, or rather, unknown and likely ill intent."

Elaine laughed and shrugged. "That does not sound unusual for Jacob."

"No. No it does not." But something else crept within the walls of her city, and as the months went on, the more she was convinced Jacob and Black Blood knew of it. More than simply knew, but were likely involved somehow.

Something had upset the spirits. Several more creatures that she had summoned were hesitant to speak, but one had been bold enough to speak of 'tears' in the world. She had suspected the spirit was referring to the infamous Gauntlet, the wall between the physical world and its mirror, the Shadow world. Now, she was not so sure. Perhaps it had something to do with Natasha's information, about how one of the most powerful spirits that lurked within her domain, the Street-Tail King, thought the arrival of the Azlu was not natural. The ecosystem of spirits was difficult for her to discover and catalogue, and she knew utterly nothing about monsters related to that ecosystem. To extrapolate from what little information she could gleam from the other realm, was beyond difficult.

But there was something out there, something hiding within her city. The monsters knew of it. Catching Mark in the act of spying on her, and then threatening him, was perhaps not the wisest course of action, with an unknown threat looming over her. Not entirely unknown, since more than she knew of its presence. Azamel had known of it, according to Jack. Perhaps the Uratha knew of it? Perhaps it was time to speak to Avery directly of this.

"Large problems, then," Elaine said.

Antoinette forced her eyes back onto Elaine. "My apologies." She had been drifting, trapped in her thoughts, and forcing poor Elaine to watch her in silence. "My studies of ephemera suggest danger lurks, Elaine. A ritual, perhaps? An entity? It..." She sighed, and leaned in toward the laptop. "I do not know. I am inclined to point my eyes to Jacob and that infernal Black Blood, but there are other possibilities." Telling Elaine this information was dangerous; mostly due to professional rivalry from her fellow dragon, more than anything. But she trusted her old friend, and perhaps Elaine could help, once she was within Dolareido. Except, maybe not with all information over potentially hackable means of conversation. "I will tell you more once you have arrived."

"I look forward to it. And I look forward to making my grand entrance at your ball. What should I wear?"

Antoinette chuckled, combed her hair over her shoulder, and ran her hands through it as she considered. "I told my childe, and my lover, that this ball would not be as sexually explicit as my last."

"I assume you were lying?"

"I was not!" Laughing, Antoinette flicked her right hand while her left continued to comb her hair. "Though, I suspect people will be quite joyful over the news of the defeat of the hunters. The moment someone -- likely Jennifer Denver, or Jessy Herrington, or Othello Manu -- shows skin, I am sure many kine will be stripped, and buried in fang and pleasure. Poor Samantha."

"Your childe? Ha, let her sink or swim. I am sure she will adapt."

"So you say. My childe is a sweet creature, Elaine, and her son will be at the ball as well."

"He is her son biologically. They are Kindred now, Ann, dead creatures, same as you or I. The hold our biological ties placed on us with birth are quite weak to us undead, and you know it."

Antoinette nodded as she looked up again, considering. It was true that Jack and Samantha would slowly stop considering each other mother and son, at least with the insistence of living beings, but it would never fade completely. Ultimately, the bond between sire and childe was stronger. Jack had only been two years embraced when Angela killed his sister and attempted to kill his mother. In another ten or twenty years, his reaction to the murder and assault would have been much different.

She did not tell her little Ventrue this. His refusal to let go of his humanity, despite his capacity for cold logic, was a trait she would cherish for as long as he held it.

"You believe the presence of her son will not prevent her from... enjoying the delights presented to her?" Antoinette said.

Elaine nodded. "I doubt she will engage in an orgy in clear view of her son, but I think she will indulge more than you think she will. She is your childe, after all."

Antoinette rolled her eyes, licked her lips, and grinned at her old friend. "I hope you do not mind, but I have planted several images into my lover's thoughts, images related to you."

Elaine leaned back in her chair as well, a black leather office chair behind a desk of glass. No windows. Behind her was a white wall, plain and without a single marking. A bunker of a sort, if Antoinette had to guess.

"Images? Do tell."

"I regaled my love with tales of our past."

Elaine laughed and shook her head. "Your lover is but a boy! A young man, with two Kindred years to his name. Why would you torture him so?"

"I do oh so delight in watching him squirm."

"Sadist."

"Aha, perhaps. But I love my little Ventrue, and"--she pointed a finger at the laptop screen--"I know full well you will tease, taunt, and torment my Jack."

"Will I?"

"Oh yes. He is quite... tease-able."

That earned a sparkle from her eye, and she leaned in closer to the camera. "Then I think I will wear something up to that task."

"I do not wish to see any blatant nudity, Elaine. Although..."

"Mmm?"

"During my last ball, a Ventrue that shares many similarities with you wore what was, essentially, a cross sash across her breasts, that exposed her chest completely whenever she leaned forward." Jennifer Denver, someone Antoinette would have been interested in as a potential dragon, if Jacob and the ethos of his Circle had not seduced her first. Aaron as well. Othello, not so much. "She turned many heads that night."

"I shall have to do better, then, mm? Something that would give your little Ventrue many fantasies?"

Distant memories danced in Antoinette's mind, and she shared a sly grin with her friend. The thousands of dresses they had worn, the hundreds of different styles and aesthetics, the sheer eroticism of many of the encounters such dresses led to, it all made Jennifer and her silly attempts at being the center of attention, seem quaint.

"Do not try too hard, old friend," Antoinette said. "He is my lover, and my love. You will not be able to seduce him from me."

"But I can try."

"Ha. You may try."

Elaine's grin widened. "And I have your permission to make him squirm?"

"By all means. His squirms are an utter delight." Perhaps she was a tad sadistic. The way her little Ventrue squirmed when she bathed him in new experiences always sent a thrill up her spine. She loved to care for him, pamper him, but she also delighted in making him uncomfortable. She did not think of herself as a dominatrix, but between her phases of caring for and spoiling her Ventrue, she did love to force him into situations she knew would make him nervous.

"And... if I wanted to do more?"

Antoinette glared at Elaine, but only with half seriousness. "As I said, he and I are in love, and--"

"I would never violate that, Antoinette. But it has been many years since I have touched you." After a slow lick of her lips, her old friend leaned back again. "And from what you have told me of your Jack, I cannot help but remember a certain hunter we once captured. Sir Eric Franzalod, if you recall?"

Ah, yes, the hunter Eric Franzalod. Unfortunate that their encounter had ultimately ended in his death, but a week prior, she had seduced the man. In her attempt to enthrall him, she had used her sexuality, along with Elaine's, and the week had been filled with enough sex to kill a lesser man. He had been quite nervous, and they had bathed him with their bodies and breasts, squashing him between their bosoms and satisfying every fantasy the silly fool had ever dreamt.

It had been an enjoyable week, Elaine and Antoinette doing their best to pleasure the man, to sway him, to seduce him. His hunter charms had prevented his mind from being broken by her Majesty, or Elaine's Dominate, so they attempted to use sex instead. Oh, such a joy, to milk the man onto Elaine's skin, and watch the hunter's jaw drop as Antoinette massaged and licked her friend's body until it was clean, and ready for more. A true shame that their efforts had been in vain.

"I can see your thoughts," Elaine said. "A small smile, when your eyes look up in memory."

Antoinette refocused her gaze on her old friend, smile remaining. "While I would normally delight in entrapping my little Ventrue, and forcing delights upon him, to allow another Kindred into my bed with him is a different matter entirely. It is a border I will not cross lightly." She combed her hair, considered, and nodded toward Elaine. "If you proposition him, about joining our bed, I will let him decide."

"Ah, so it is on me to seduce your little Jack Terry, until he relents, and lets me join your bed? You must take me for quite the slut, Ann."

"That I do."

More gentle, ridiculous chuckles between them. It felt wonderful to be silly, to be foolish like this. It had been ages since she had truly entertained silly.