My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 01

~~Jack~~

Ten days after the incident.

The 'incident'. It was the nicest way they could put it, and the most succinct way. It also let them talk about it without putting everyone on edge too much. Avery and Garry had thrown the first punch, because Avery was convinced Maria was up to something, and Garry pushed her into acting. Pushed, or tricked, because even Carthians were Kindred, and never did anything directly. Easier to call it the 'incident', instead of 'the opening act of what was going to be war'.

"You gonna be alright?" he asked Veronica.

She nodded, smiled, and waved. "I will. Mulder and Scully will caw if something happens, right?"

"Right."

"And," Jessy added, leaning against the open door of his mansion, "you got the Invictus emergency number. Speed dial it and some armed thralls and a clean up crew will come running."

"She can call me, ya know," Jack said.

His partner shrugged. "You'll probably be busy if something happens. But don't worry about it, Veronica. No one's gonna attack the mansion, not with your master's reputation."

Mulder and Scully cawed from a nearby statue outside, some old shitty thing from Viktor's past. And a few more crows beyond that cawed as well. Friends of his friends. Jack smiled at them, waved, clicked his tongue a few times, waved to Veronica, and left with Jessy.

It didn't take long to find the first tunnel entrance, one of the old, closed doors to the abandoned subway. Locked doors weren't a problem for Kindred, and Invictus had keys anyway. Past that, they took a trip down one of the tunnels, found a closed-off service ladder, went down again, and were in the deeper level of the tunnels. He didn't expect to run into any of the Nosferatu that lived down here, but this was the tunnels they typical slept in. It was also the tunnels that connected to Azamel's favorite spot.

"So, dude, watched the tape last night."

Oh god damn it. That was going to make this whole night an awkward pain in his ass.

"I don't suppose you can not--"

"Dude, where was the tit fucking?"

"I... what?"

She held out her hands in front of her, as if holding giant breasts. "I was looking forward to seeing some tit fucking. Cause, I mean, come on."

This woman, good god. He laughed, and laughed, until he had to clutch her shoulder to keep from falling over.

"Sorry. It just didn't come up."

She grinned at him, one of those playful grins she made a lot these nights. Something happened between Eric and her, probably in the 'love you' department, and the woman was unusually happy all the time these nights, like Fiona had become.

"Still though, when Elaine got on your back, and the two of them just flattened you between their tits, I could literally see your cheeks get squished. It was fucking adorable, and hot as hell." She shivered and bounced in place a few times. "Hell, it was all really hot. Elaine, posing like a fucking fashion model, mid ass fuck. Veronica, soaking that dick each time you spanked her. Fuuuuck that was good." She hooked an arm over his shoulders, and walked with him down the tunnel, grin only growing. "I can guarantee she'll be masturbating to that every night until... well, every night, except the ones she gets to fuck you again. That on the menu? Maybe more movies, too?"

"If this were any other job, I'd get you fired for sexual harassment. And then sue you. This is not appropriate work behavior."

"Aw, come on. Dude, you were totally rocking it in the video. Even Eric said you were in great shape. You look tiny in the suit, but naked, you're gorgeous."

The compliment shouldn't have worked. Hell, if anything, knowing Eric watched the tape should have made him feel uncomfortable. But he was so desensitized to sexual embarrassment at this point, he just couldn't feel awkward anymore. And the fact people liked the sight of him naked was an ego stroke he couldn't deny.

"I didn't plan on making anymore movies. But knowing Antoinette, she'll bring it up again. Or just, you know, invite you and others over to be an audience." She had the facilities to basically set up a stage play, except it'd be a bed, and Jack and Elaine and Antoinette would be on it. Probably the ghouls and thrall, too.

"I'd totally be down for an invite."

"Yeah, I figured."

She laughed, and Jack groaned. At this rate, everyone in the damn city would know they were down here, or at least everyone who already lived in the tunnels, the younger Nosferatu specifically. But, maybe hearing him joke around with Jess would endear him to them a bit? All the neonates avoided him, and that stung sometimes.

"I want to get Tash in on seeing me fuck Eric when he's transformed, but I'm not sure how. When he's transformed, cameras and shit don't work right, so I can't just record it or do it live and stream it."

Good fucking god.

"Whyyy?"

"Fuck, I dunno. Eric says Luna or the moon or whatever might actually be, like, an actual deity or person or something? So she or it is kinda, I dunno, keeping an eye on things and fucking with nearby tech? Which is all sorts of creepy, the idea of a moon chick watching us and--"

"Not that! Why do you want to Tash to see Eric transform and have sex?"

"Fuck dude, why not?" She shrugged and let go of him. "She has two werewolf boyfriends. I'm hoping--"

Jack shook his head and waved a dismissing hand. Ugh, the woman did not get it. "Tash kept her boyfriends locked up, in chains, for three days before she released them. Art and Matt have an official warning from the Prince that they crossed a line against the dragons, and that they're on thin ice; the Prince told me Tash agreed with it, too. Those two wolves owe the dragons, and the Prince is going to collect. You really think that relationship is still going?"

"Hell yeah. Those two idiots got it bad for that girl."

That was not the response he expected.

"Um, they betrayed her trust. And, you know, staked her. Staked her! Ow!"

Of all the people he expected to be understanding about this, Jessy was not one of them. Hell, Jessy was the first person he figured would throw fists over something like this.

"I get that," she said. "And hey, when Tash told me what happened, I thought for sure those two morons were done, relationship over. But I've seen them since it happened, you know? They're miserable."

"Being locked up in a cell for a few nights, dangling from chains I might add, can make anyone miserable."

She shook her head. "Not like this. If they were kine, I'd expect them to be pissing their money away on booze right about now, brooding over the relationship they destroyed in a bar or something. They're totally fucked up."

Sighing, Jack stopped and faced her. "So, what, you think she should forgive them, because they're sad?"

"I don't--"

"Cause honestly, if I'd been them, I'd have done the same thing."

Apparently that was not what she'd expected to hear. "The fuck?"

"And I bet Tash would have done it, too."

"You can't be serious."

"I am. And come on, Jessy. If Michael, your sire, told you shit was about to go down and the Invictus were needed to fix shit or mountains of people were going to die, Kindred included, you'd do it, too. Maybe not for the Invictus, but to save the lives of hundreds of paranormals, and millions of kine? And you know damn well you'd lock Eric up against his will if you thought he'd stop you."

"I... fuck, I don't know! I'd... fuck me, I don't know. I'd have talked with him first! Avoided needing to lock him up at all."

"Even if Michael told you not to talk to him about it?"

"Fuck, I... fuuuuck."

It all boiled down to logic, something he knew Natasha understood. It probably ate her up, knowing that, if the roles had been reversed, she'd have done what Matt and Art did. Shame, guilt, all that shit Jack was all too familiar with, just not in the same context, thank god. Art and Matt did what they had to, because they knew Natasha would interfere, and to them, keeping her alive was more important than their relationship to her.

Tragic, cliché, but very real. It was a sad story. Art and Matt liked Natasha, a lot, probably loved her. But the situation just didn't allow for that relationship to continue without issue. Vampires of different covenants often didn't get close to each other, because they often ended up on the opposite side of issues, either because of personal beliefs or the orders of their superiors. Avery thought she was saving lives, and so did her pack. It sucked, a lot, that Avery went up against Maria when Natasha was convinced of her innocence. But Avery was convinced, still was, and the only reason she and her pack weren't banned from the city -- or dead -- was because she didn't try that shit on Antoinette.

A weird, tricky situation. It always was. No chance any of these groups were going to get along smoothly, no matter how much Jack tried.

But he'd keep trying. Once Avery was healed up, and maybe a little less angry about getting her ass kicked by Jack and the Ripper, he'd talk to her, and maybe Matthew and Arturo, too. But for now, Azamel.

"It sucks," he said. "It really fucking sucks for her. But the boys did what they did cause they didn't want her hurt or dead, and because they knew they had a job to do, a job they would sacrifice themselves to do. Can you imagine her asking them to put her before the beliefs of their pack? Hell, they genuinely think they're saving the city, the whole damn world, from some nasty shit. And I don't blame them, after all the shit I've seen; that you've seen too, FYI."

"Then, the fuck do we do? The boys are miserable, they really don't want to lose Natasha, and I like them. And Natasha's miserable, cause the boys put the pack before her, and betrayed her trust, and--" She threw up her hands. "The girl finally manages to get some good dick, regularly, and stupid shit up and ruins it."

"We do nothing. Er, well, I try my best to smooth shit over with Avery, and hopefully convince her she's wrong about Maria, but otherwise, yeah, I have no idea. It's up to Natasha if she can forgive them, and accept that there's just some aspects of their relationship that won't ever be... rectifiable? Werewolves aren't vampires. They're wolves. They have a pack, and they serve that pack." He smiled, a pathetic little thing, and started walking again. "Vampires aren't that selfless."

"Ha, yeah, I guess we're not." She hopped up to catch up to him, and pat him on the shoulder. "You're a bitter old man trapped in a kid's body, you know that?"

"I do." She wasn't the first person to say it.

"I wonder how Eric feels about it," she said. "He's got no pack, but he is a werewolf. He's got a higher calling and shit."

"I dunno. He--"

They both stopped, and stared into the darkness of the tunnels ahead of them. Flickering old lights were the only thing illuminating the dirt, dust, cracked concrete, and ancient tracks of the old subway. Up ahead at the furthest visible bend in the tunnel, one of those lights turned off. And then the next one, and the next one. They didn't pop, like old lights did when they went out. They shut off, like they lost power, except they were on the same circuit; should have all died immediately.

Jack looked behind him as the lights kept going out until the looming presence enveloped them, and buried them in darkness. The smell was next. He snarled and wiped his nose, but there was no covering the smell of rot and decay.

"The fuck?" Jessy said, wiping her nose as well.

"Mark." With a heavy growl, a shit load more sinister than he'd ever do in the past, Jack took a step further into the black. So dark he couldn't see shit, even with Kindred eyes. Fiona and Athalia might be able to see in blackness like this, but vampires were fucked.

"Mark? Explains the smell." Sniffing, Jessy walked forward a little; easy to tell from the sound in the absolute silence. "The fuck you want, Mark?"

Silence was their answer. What an asshole.

"Mark," Jack said. "I'm here to see Azamel." More silence. "Look, I need to speak with her. Shit's about to... get hectic."

A quiet, hissing rasp filled the air, and Jack froze. Vitae pumped through his limbs, under his skin, ready to defend him from a surprise slash that might come out from the dark. He knew that rasp, and didn't like hearing it now.

"Athalia?" Jessy said. "Come on guys, we're not here to pick a fight. Let us talk to Azamel."

"Azamel is dying," the darkness said, in a voice fitting darkness all too perfectly. "Let her die in peace."

Jack shook his head. "I know, and I'm sorry, but the Invictus and Carthians are going to use every tool they can in this shitstorm coming our way. I need to talk to her."

A few more seconds of silence before another hissing rasp. "Why?"

"Because I want to do everything I can to keep the Begotten out of it. And... and because I've learned some things, about the things we're worried about." And this was where shit might get awkward. He hadn't exactly been upfront with Jessy about their search for the mysterious force acting in Dolareido, the thing Azamel warned them about, the thing he was pretty sure was Black Blood. But with shit getting more and more problematic, now was as good a time as any to tell her.

"Let them come," another voice said.

"Sándor." Jack sighed relief. Mark didn't like Jack. Athalia didn't like Jack, especially not after everything that'd happened. But Sándor was a voice of reason; plus, he owed Jack.

The darkness melted away, leaving Athalia and Mark standing in the distance, a lot further than the woman's eerie voice had suggested. Sándor walked past them and up to Jack and Jessy, face neutral, as usual.

"Jack."

"How's it going, Sándor? I have to say, the Prince is pretty happy with how things are going with the Begotten, since you've been added to the city's... paranormal scene." He almost used the word family. Nope, bad idea, especially with Sándor and Athalia. "Considering your hungers."

"I have a lot of practice controlling my hunger," he said, voice ever flat. "And Azamel is smart, and wise. She knows a lot of ways to feed without exposing ourselves, leaving a trail, or killing someone."

Wow, those were a lot of long, complete sentences. A big step up from how Sándor usually talked.

Jessy laughed. "Sounds like she's gotten smarter since the last time she was here. Apparently, she caused a lot of problems last time she lived in the city? It was before my time."

Sándor nodded, not a smile or a frown anywhere on his face. Dude was totally stoic. If Jack put him in a room with Daniel, it'd be like watching two trees talk. He was tall, not as tall as Daniel but still tall, a white European dude with dark hair buzzed short like Jack's, and some gruff on his face. Right now he wore some jeans and a black shirt, typical wear for anyone hanging out in old abandoned tunnels, and a glance Jessy's way showed she noticed the muscle definition through the shirt. He did look healthier since the last time Jack spoke to him, and especially since being under Jeremiah's control.

"It was a long time ago," Sándor said. "And, if you want to speak to Azamel, I'll allow it. But be brief. She grows weaker by the day."

Jack winced and looked down. Much as that wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty about it.

Then again, Antoinette told him Azamel had some pretty lofty plans, the sort that put Dolareido in danger. Ruined plans, now. He shouldn't have felt bad for her. But, he did.

Jack and Jessy nodded, and Sándor took them to Azamel's hole, a big room with a large concrete stage in the center that once probably housed engineering equipment or something. No shitty old cushioned rocking chair this time. Old Azamel lay on a bed, coughing weakly, but true to form, she had a lit cigarette in hand, and she took a puff on it between coughs. No point in telling her to lay off it now.

Athalia and Mark hopped onto the concrete stage and sat with her, each taking a small chair near her bed. Somehow, these strange, disturbed individuals, were a close family. Sándor climbed onto the stage as well, though it was obvious the man didn't really feel comfortable getting as intimate as the others, preferring to stand off to the side.

Sándor motioned for Jack to come up, and he winced as he climbed onto the stage with them. Athalia and Mark both frowned at him, but he knew they didn't blame him for the situation. They did, however, not want him there, that much was obvious. Still, annoyed as they might have been, Azamel raised her free hand and gestured for him to come closer.

"Azamel," he said softly, and he stood beside Athalia as he smiled down at the old woman. "You look like shit."

She coughed, and managed a small grin, before giving him the finger. Not a very good middle finger, other fingers barely able to bend, but she managed.

"Jack. What do you want?" Despite her attitude, she did look like shit. Paler, skin more sunken, veins sticking out, hands trembling. Horrible, fucking horrible. Jack never knew his grandparents from either side of his family, but they were all dead, to various things. Never in his life did he ever see a family member on a hospital bed until the hunters ruined the life of his mother, and killed his sister. This was different. This was watching someone wither away to disease and age, not stab wounds. This was a sickening reminder that vampires were immortal, and everyone else was very much not.

"I wanted to talk about the shit that happened last week."

"You let your curse unleash mayhem and carnage."

"Let... is a strong word." He clutched Elaine's necklace. "I had to do something, but letting the curse out was an accident."

Athalia snorted, but her eyes were down and refused to look up.

"I am aware of the situation, Jack," Azamel said. "It does not concern us. We'll stay out here, until..." She coughed, grabbed a nearby bundle of paper towels, and hocked up something into them. The paper turned red. After a heavy groan, she cleared her throat and tossed the paper towel into a garbage bin beside her. It was full of them. "When I'm gone, Sándor can do what he wishes, but he assures me he'll remain neutral as best he can."

"Neutral, like how you tried to recruit Eric?"

The old monster frowned as she glared at him. Only the small pile of pillows behind her back and head kept her upright enough to look at him. "Yes. I saw these problems coming, vampire. Maybe not this curse that infects your bloodline like a virus, but everything else. Something is out there, and the werewolves are chasing it. But they're mostly blind, and they'll attack anything they think looks -- or smells -- like what they're hunting. They were bound to stir trouble with the covenants, like they did with Fiona."

He sighed, grabbed a nearby, empty wooden chair, and sat with a groan of his own. "Alright, so, the rest of you, you're going to stay out of this?"

Mark nodded. Athalia finally lifted her head long enough to look at him, frown, and nod. Sándor nodded as well.

"Fiona," Sándor said, "is a different matter. She's grown extremely attached to Damien."

Azamel shook her head. "She is a butterfly. She will tend to her new love, but war? She will not go to war, and Damien will not let her."

True. Damien knew better, and he wouldn't want Fiona getting involved anyway. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't, if push came to shove.

"I'll talk to her," Jack said. "Much as I should be pushing to have as many helping hands as I can get on my side, First and Second Estate, it'd be better if the Begotten stayed out of this." Everyone nodded. "Now, the other thing I wanted to talk about. I'm... really leaning toward Black Blood being the thing that's going around making new tears, and he's probably the thing you warned us about."

Azamel groaned and shook her head. "We've found tears in the dream realm, and other realms you cannot imagine. Black Blood is a spirit, and is limited to--"