My Little Ventrue Pt. 08 Ch. 04

~~Natasha~~

They went back to her apartment. With the hunters defeated, and the few remaining still in the Prince's custody, there wasn't any reason she couldn't sleep in her apartment anymore. Maybe Samantha would get her own place too? Daniel slept in the Elysium Tower, somewhere secret, but that didn't mean Samantha had to as well.

She sat on the couch between her boyfriends, and looked between them as they obviously prepared a tale.

"It was ten years ago," Art said, smiling down at her, half turned to face her. "Matthew and I had become great friends by this point. We hung out all the time, and we went on patrols together. Eventually, we did our hunting together, when we realized how much we complimented each other."

"We were hunting a spirit," Matthew continued. "It'd possessed someone."

"H-How do you free someone from a possession?" she said.

"You have to learn about the spirit," Art said, "and figure out how to manipulate it with a bane or ban. If a fire spirit, desperate to turn the possessed into an arsonist, got soaked in water for example, some fire spirits would have to vacate the body."

"Oooh. A puzzle." She did oh so enjoy puzzles.

"This one," Matt said, "was a spirit of... a sort of revenge, I guess. It was kinda hard to pin down. It'd possessed a girl who'd just found out her boyfriend cheated on her."

Art laughed and looked down. "And, well, when we got rid of the spirit, it left an impression on the girl. She somehow got it into her head that she could hurt her ex by sleeping with the two of us."

Matt shook his head. "She didn't say that though. Instead, she invited Art and me to a thank you party sorta thing. She got drunk, and got us drunk."

"No easy feat," Art said, "but she really wanted a party."

"And she, uh, kinda jumped us. Situationally speaking, I mean."

"She was a tall woman, and apparently pretty, uh, comfortable with her sexuality. She went to take a shower, and was in there for a pretty long time. It was especially weird when we heard the shower running, and ten minutes later, still nothing. Matthew and I were thinking maybe we should leave, when she told us to come in."

"Into the bathroom?" Natasha said.

Matthew nodded, scratching the scruff of his cheeks. "Yeah. Like, the both of us."

"W-What'd you do?"

Art laughed and shrugged. "Details are a little fuzzy. We were pretty drunk, woozy, and not really thinking straight, or thinking at all. So Matt and I kinda just... went with it."

"Yeah, we did. I blame the alcohol."

Tash scrunched up her nose and looked up at the big guy on her left. "I'm sure there was m-more than alcohol in your veins."

He scratched the scruff of his neck a little, looking away, embarrassed. "Er, I mean... well, we are werewolves. We're kinda always--"

"Ready to fight," Art said, grinning down at her as he did. Yeah, right. Fight, in this case, being anything strenuous involving biological functions. Should be changed to fight or flight or fuck response.

"W-What happened next?"

"She was naked, grinning at us, and waving a small bottle of lubricant side to side."

The exact opposite situation Natasha had been in. They'd had to bully her, to get her to accept. A risky move, cause she could have reacted badly, and the situation would have ended horribly. But they'd been tipped off by Jessy. The stranger in their story, on the other hand, was the aggressive one, and guys were, well, guys.

"And you j-just went with it?"

Matthew shrugged, with more hand waving this time. "We were drunk! And a naked girl was beckoning! She wanted to repay us for helping her."

"So," Art continued, "we got naked. Apparently she'd done this kinda thing before, cause she took lead, and, yeah, that was Matt and I's first experience with that sorta thing."

"N-No, um... problems?" She held out her hands in front of her, and mimed smooshing orbs together. "Cause, you know, things can touch, and it can get awkward."

The two men laughed, hearty sounds that made her smile.

"We were pretty drunk," Matt repeated. "A lot of that sorta stuff didn't really register. The next time this kinda situation came up, we weren't drunk, but we'd talked about it already, admitted we'd had a lot of fun being with a girl like that, and wouldn't mind doing it again."

Natasha laughed. "I'd say it's strange for t-two guys to agree to something like that. But, it's pretty normal in Dolareido."

They grinned at her. Tinglies went through her belly, and she quivered at the rising tension in the air. If she pushed them just a little more, they'd pounce, pin her down, and do things to her. She kinda wanted to do that.

"You're the first," Art added, "that we've ever dated like this though. Like, really... committed to a relationship with."

She suppressed the need to gasp, and managed a peek up at the man beside her. "Y-Yeah?"

"Yeah," Matt said, and he set a hand on her legs. Usually that'd be a precursor to much touching, no matter how much she squirmed to get away. The look in his face didn't scream sex though. They were being serious.

Art sighed and shook his head. "Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something else, tonight."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "Yeah. The pack has found more clues pointing to Maria. Red wraiths have been sneaky across the Gauntlet, and we're sure they've been talking to her. Far as we can tell, they work for Black Blood, or it's got a firm grip on them and they have no choice. Either way, Avery's convinced she's up to something."

This again. Frustrating beyond belief, that the werewolves were the only ones capable of acquiring this sort of evidence. Except, that wasn't true. The Prince got glimpses of things on the other side of the Gauntlet, and that necklace the Prince had acquired some time ago had drawn a spirit that also pointed toward Maria. Combined, it was hard to ignore.

"I could t-talk to her about it," she said.

Art shook his head again. "Before we were sure, I'd say do it. But now we know she's in deep. No idea if it's linked to the tears we've been finding, but she's into something dark if she has to go through those wraiths. If you ask her now, she might wise up, change her tactics or something."

"I suppose it m-makes sense. If Maria suspected anyone the Uratha might send, to ask questions about what she's doing, it'd be m-me." Since she was so close to the Uratha, compared to anyone else. "I'll ask D-Damien. He's already keeping an eye on her, and says he hasn't seen anything suspicious. B-But, I can ask him to look harder." He was Mekhet, after all. It wouldn't take much prodding to get him interested in searching for more. The curse of all Mekhet, to hunger for secrets to learn.

The problem was, Damien seemed to care for Maria, to some extent. Maybe he felt guilty for Lucas, and was doing his best to help Maria in his absence? Not very Kindred of him, to behave like that.

"I'll be taking a trip into the Hisil tomorrow," Art said. "I want you to tag along."

"M-Me? Why?"

"Because you're sneaky. And you provide some objectivity; the pack sucks at that. And because I'd like to hang out with my girlfriend for a while."

She beamed, but washed the expression away quickly. "Ok, b-but, if I see an opportunity to learn something, I'll take it."

He grinned. "Avery won't like that."

She returned the grin. No way it had that smoldering look Art's did, but damn it, she could do a smart aleck grin.

"That's the p-p-price! I mean, if you want my help sneaking around, then I'm going t-to take the opportunity to learn about things. I w-want to see some of the tears."

Art winced, but nodded. "Sure."

"W-What about Matt?"

"I can't sneak for shit." Laughing, he shrugged. "If you two can cover for me, sure. I--"

The phone started to ring. Natasha's, and the ring announced it was the Prince calling. She pulled it out, and held up a finger for her boyfriends.

"Yes, my Prince?" she answered.

"Natasha. Have you seen Jack?" First names and no additions meant she was serious.

"Jack? N-No, Prince. Is he missing?"

The quiet growl through the phone was like a knife's edge against her skin.

"Yes, he is. Again."

Oh damn it.

"Um, d-dawn is nearly here. And tomorrow I was going t-to see about going into the Hisil with Avery's pack, to learn about... possible... things." The word 'things' was enough to have the Prince thinking about it for a moment.

Another phone rang, and Art pulled it out to check a message. His eyes went wide.

"Then," the Prince continued, "I have no choice but to ask for that man's help."

"D-Damien?"

"Damien."

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~~Jack~~

Sándor's bleeding slowed, and stopped. Jack did his best to ignore the smell of blood, and so did Clara. For her, it must have been pulling at an instinct, some animal anxiety or need to get aggressive. For him, it was just making him hungry. Over two years ago, when he was just a freshly embraced fledgling, being hungry was terrifying. Feeding on people was terrifying, especially after his Beast had flipped out that first night and killed someone.

These days, he fed regularly, both on Antoinette's ghouls, but also random people he found on the street, in dark alleys, or occasional trips to Bloodlust and other night lounges and clubs. The last thing he wanted was to get hungry, to give his Beast any excuse to run rampant. That meant feeding, often, keeping it sated and quiet.

He'd come into confidence quickly, to be able to feed so readily; except with women, of course. Something about talking to a woman always threw him off, made him hesitate, doubt himself, all those things women generally found unappealing. The Prince found it endearing. He'd gotten a lot better at it, especially when it came to hunting, but still.

He licked his lips as the smell of blood hit his nose again. Sándor's, and Clara's, where it soaked her jeans. The smell was different. Each smelled inhuman in their own way, Clara's like some kind of rich meal, while Sándor's smelled almost like alcohol. Subtle smells a human nose wouldn't pick up on, but to a Kindred, blood was life. Given another few hundred years, maybe he'd be able to smell the difference between human blood with different diets. Maybe he'd be one of those elders who insisted on feeding on kine of specific age groups, sexes, blood types, or ethnicities.

"He's healing," Clara said.

Jack nodded as he looked over at the man still hanging off Clara's shoulders. "Yeah, but he's lost a lot of blood. And he pushed himself tackling the azlu." Sándor's head drooped, the man trapped somewhere between falling asleep and groaning in pain. "I... don't think he's going to be able to help us for a little while."

"Then I'll climb the wall."

"I mean, sure, if you can." He looked up at the huge, smooth rock wall, wincing. "I saw how much the azlu hit the ground with its claws and feet. They didn't leave much impact. No grooves anywhere."

She snorted, set Sándor down against the sloping wall, and let out a quiet growl in her throat. Quiet turned into a heavy, bassy rumble as she transformed, becoming an eight-foot beast of muscle. Leaner than the male werewolves, he couldn't help but notice how her furry form didn't hide her feminine physique. Short fur meant he could still see the shape of hips, waist, legs, and even the hint of bust, and more impressive, the place where legs and back met. Very, uh, shapely, even with a wolf tail stick out over it.

Clara noticed him looking, and she managed the wolf equivalent of a quiet chuckle.

"Brianna has fucked, like this." She gestured to herself. "Says body changes, for sex. Says it was fun, but... hard, to control herself." Clara's words came out harsh, half bark, but he could hear the playfulness in them.

Jack nodded, gulping. "Uh, very dangerous, I imagine." He was not a furry. He was not a furry. He was not a furry. He was not a furry.

She grinned, as much as a snout can grin, turned to the wall of rock, and slammed both of her hands against it at the same time, claws out, palms forward. They pierced the rock, a whole quarter inch, and the moment she tried to pull her weight upward, her claws came right back out. She tried again, harder, and for a split second, Jack was sure he could see a small, red glow on her claws.

Avery had done something with her claws, when she'd fought the azlu. She'd set them on fire somehow, but not really on fire. Maybe she could pierce the rock they needed to climb to reach the tear above, or maybe those fire claws were better for killing azlu, but either way, Clara didn't seem capable of it, or any other trick that might let her climb the rock.

Apparently, the Gauru side of her didn't like that. She roared, loudly, and Jack flinched back as the unnatural power of it crashed into him. She slammed her claws into the wall again, but got no further, despite the hard crack sound. Movement drew their eyes, and they both looked up to see through the fog, way way way up, several scurrying sets of spider legs run off into the darkness. The azlu spiders were still around, hiding in the mist, and staying out of reach. They hated Clara, but they were also afraid of her. And now, they were afraid of him.

But he couldn't take advantage of that fear if he couldn't force an engagement. And besides, better to not, and just escape.

Clara slammed her claws again and again into the rock, but she got nowhere. "Fuck!" she half screamed, half barked.

Sándor coughed a few times, before he looked up at the two of them. "Get me up. I'll fly us up there."

"You can't even stand," Jack said.

"Then I'll burrow a tunnel home, and you can follow."

"I get the impression you'd have done that already if you could." Sighing, Jack came over to the man and squatted in front of him. "Opening portals, tunneling, opening your lair so it overlaps with other worlds, all of that must take effort. Right now, you're useless. Which means we got two options. We wait until you're feeling well enough to get us out of here, or wait until someone figures out what happened, and comes looking for us." The first option looked rough, cause it could take Sándor days to recover, or more, depending on how well his human body could heal. The second option was rougher. Sándor hadn't opened his lair to the other Begotten, and hadn't really been in contact with them. They had no way of knowing where he was.

"So... what's the plan?" Clara said. She'd already transformed back into her human form.

"Fuck me, I don't know." He sat down against the wall edge beside Sándor, and leaned his head back against the stone. "I can feel sunrise; it'll be here any minute. I'll try and stay awake as long as I can, but..."

"But if we all fall asleep, we'll be killed in our sleep." Sighing, she sat down next to him, taking a breather while still scanning left and right. "Guess I'll be pulling an all... dayer."

They laughed, and let the sound die away as the dangers of the situation sank in. A glance to the Begotten showed he was already asleep, and not in good shape at all. Sándor had seemed confident he would heal, but guys like him had a habit of lying about that sort of shit, right into a grave. But, him being asleep did give Jack and Clara a moment to talk.

"Clara," he said at last, "I... I'm thankful, you know."

"Thankful?"

"For how you don't seem to let the curse bother you, after everything you've seen."

She watched him for a while, before she looked down, pulled up her knees, and hooked her elbows on them. "It bothers me."

He winced. "Oh."

"It bothers everyone, Jack."

"Yeah, I... I know. I meant, you don't seem to let it bother you enough to keep you away."

She looked at him, hesitating, a hint of pain in her eyes. "Yeah, well, someone needs to be there for you. Not like any elder ever risks their own neck on missions like this."

He couldn't hold her gaze for long. Her eyes were sad. It was the sort of look he'd seen in movies, when someone watched a friend go off to war. Why did she care about him so much?

"It's not like my friends aren't concerned too, Clara. Damien, Antoinette, they're all looking for ways to remove the curse. Elaine might be able to help with that, too." Assuming whatever devious scheme was she was up to allowed for that.

"And Beatrice?"

"Triss? She... she..." He shivered as he looked down. "She needed my help, and I was glad to give it."

"And when Damien needs your help, and only the curse can provide it, what happens? Or the Prince? Or the others?"

"I don't know. It's a bridge I'll cross when I get to it."

"Come on, you know what's going to happen, Jack."

He couldn't keep a bit of venom out of his voice. "Educate me."

"Things will happen that the power of the curse can help with, and you'll help the people who need it. You'll help because that's you. But..."

"But?"

"But, you've got a self destructive impulse, Jack."

He kept his eyes down. Easier that way, to have this painful conversation without any eye contact.

"I'm not self destructive."

"Come on, that's exactly what you are."

"I--"

"You wouldn't hesitate to put yourself in front of a train if it meant you could do something you felt needed doing. Problem is, you jump to that conclusion pretty damn fast, you know?"

He tightened his hands into his fists, but still kept his eyes down. "I make quick decisions because it's the only way things can happen. He who hesitates is lost."

"Against the first azlu, you threw yourself down at it, a monster clearly stronger than you."

"If I didn't, it would have killed you, and escaped."

"Maybe. How about when you escaped Jeremiah and Angela, that first night when they captured you? You cut off your own hands."

"If I didn't, I would have been trapped."

"Maybe. What about that rescue attempt you made for me, Jessy, and Eric? You came in guns blazing. And then there was our assault on their home turf. You went in first, on intel you got that very night, and took them all on yourself."

"I--"

"Jack." Her voice was heavy and sad, not loud, but the impact was enough to shut him up. "The point I'm trying to make, is... I've dealt with vampires before. They take advantage of other people, without even thinking about it. That's just what vampires do. It's who they are. But you're different. You put yourself in positions where you'll take the brunt of the pain, and... and I know vampires are going to take advantage of that."

He licked his fangs slowly, before he ground his teeth until his jaw threatened to break. The anger hit him like a ton of bricks, and it wasn't the anger the curse used to slip into him, before he'd freed it. It was the anger of an indignant child, not liking what it was being told. It was an anger he was familiar with from his whole life, from someone saying something he disagreed with, while he internally realized they were right, and he was wrong.

Being wrong sucked.

"But... you won't do that," he said.

"Do what?"

"Take advantage of me, of the curse."

She smiled at him in the corner of his eye. "I don't know. I don't think so?"

"You wouldn't." It wasn't in her, that much was obvious. The werewolves didn't think like that, think in terms of the self first. They were so far from the Kindred mindset, it seemed alien to him.

"You said the Prince and her friend are looking for ways to remove the curse?"

"Yes. Elaine is, in particular. She's my great grandsire."

Clara's eyes shot open. "Oh..." He gave her a minute to process that.

"She had the curse, but never unleashed it, like I did. At some point, centuries ago, she removed it. Now she's willing to help me."

"Does she know how she did it?"

"She has some notes, and some hazy memories." He shrugged, tension fading from his shoulders. "But, I'm not an idiot. Like you said, Kindred take advantage of anything they can, including each other. She's up to something, and..."