My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 09

"And maybe Jacob," Art said, "if the vampire is helping it. I... christ, if Jacob's trying to do what Minerva was doing..."

Black Blood, a spirit so strong it was basically a god, was a deadly threat, but an obvious one. Jacob was sneaky, and the worst enemy they could have asked for.

Natasha hugged herself as she looked down. "If Jacob..." Earlier frustration wiped away, she sat between her two boyfriends on the bench, and leaned into Art's side. "No w-w-wonder Street-Tail King wanted to make a deal, to force anyone who knows the truth t-to... make sure it gets dealt with, no matter what. Oh, oh god! What about Samantha, and J-Jack! What about--"

Sándor shook his head. "We don't know anything for sure yet. The word of a spirit is usually good, but Street-Tail King seems to embody a lot of Dolareido's dirty aspects. Lying could be included. For now, let's focus on the goal, checking out this new tear."

He didn't sound convinced.

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The closer they got to the tear, the fewer spirits they ran into. Most spirits hung out in the more densely populated areas, wherever there was the most human activity on the other side of the Gauntlet. That meant the entertainment district with its high rise apartment buildings and hotels, jammed to the gills with residents and tourists alike. Out here toward the edge of Devil's Corner, there wasn't much activity.

Considering the edge of the city led out to a rocky desert, it was a perfect place for someone to do something they didn't want others to interfere with.

Natasha sighed, eyes still down on the sidewalk as they walked. She was a thinker. Eric was too, he supposed, but not like her, a forward thinker trying to solve problems. It was a good thing she was in charge of this adventure.

"If Jacob is helping Black Blood, I can't imagine he wants to d-destroy everything," she said. "He can't know!"

"That makes things worse," Art said. "If he knows, then our goal is clear: kill Jacob. And the Prince would help with that. If he doesn't know, then it gets more complicated. We'll have to convince him, and he hates our guts."

Natasha sighed louder and hugged herself as they walked. "Poor Samantha."

"If the man is intelligent," Sándor said, "he can be reasoned with."

Eric said nothing. He knew even a smart man can do stupid things, but they all knew that too. No point in saying it. And he was happier keeping his mouth shut.

"What if Jacob's not involved at all?" Matt said. "Black Blood could be doing this on its own. And even then, Black Blood might not know the damage it's going to cause."

Art shuddered. "If this is Black Blood's goal, then... then I don't know what to do. I doubt we could beat it in a fight. Best we could hope is to find its bane, or somehow prevent it from being able to do the ritual, permanently."

"Worthy goals," Sándor said. "But for now, let's focus on making sure this ritual, or whatever it is, doesn't happen. Easier to do that, than fight Black Blood straight on."

Everyone nodded. All this planning and speculating was pointless if they couldn't deal with the immediate issue.

"M-Maybe Street-Tail King knows more?" Natasha asked. "It seems p... p-pretty convinced that these tears are being made to try and do whatever Minerva was doing. How did it find out?"

Arturo shrugged. "It's a sneaky bastard. If it didn't want to be found, we wouldn't be able to find it. You saw Red Tide, and you've seen Black Blood. Street-Tail wouldn't be able to take any of them in a straight fight, but it still manages to fight for power in Dolareido. And it does it by being a really sneaky fucker."

Eric had seen Red Tide from a distance once. Fighting that would be like fighting a ship-destroying kraken. No thanks.

Natasha looked up at Art."But?"

"But, sneaky as it is, Red Tide and Black Blood are older, and an order of magnitude stronger. The fact Street-Tail learned what it did is surprising. I'm surprised it knew what little it did." Art mirrored Natasha, rubbing his arms a few times, like he was cold. "Dolareido is a big place, a huge, dense city, with millions of people. The spirits here are powerful, with massive choirs. I'm sure Street-Tail King has been up to some crazy stuff for decades, so has Red Tide and Black Blood, and a lot of that stuff probably enters the 'deadly as all fuck' category. But this... this is a step up. Street-Tail King put its life on the line, telling us anything."

He was right, of course. The spirits had their own world in the Hisil, with objectives that had nothing to do with the physical world. They fought each other, made deals, alliances, started wars, and did all they could to spread their influence. That was the key, the driving force behind their actions, spreading influence. And for spirits, that meant spreading their very manifestation. Getting to the physical world was a way for them to do that, and experience pleasures only the physical world provided.

Sometimes Eric thought of them as mindless animals, slaves to their instincts. They weren't.

"We're almost there," Matt said. "Let's get higher. Tash, keep us cloaked as best you can."

A minute later, they were on the rooftops. No need to climb, there were fire escapes.

Natasha was an impressive little vampire. It was easy to think she was weak because of her size, but a cursory understanding of the paranormal world made that irrelevant. It was her attitude that made it easy to underestimate her, her meekness. But the truth was, the girl was really good. After dealing with a few vampires, some around Natasha's age, Eric had built an understanding of their capabilities, and Natasha defied them. Her, Jessy, Damien, and of course Jack, all of who were or had been Right Hands. No wonder.

She kept them wrapped in her Cloak, so any spirits that looked their way wouldn't see them. Arturo did his own thing, blending into the night shadows in a way that had all of them struggling to see him, even with him right next to them. Eric doubted either would be able to keep Street-Tail, Red Tide, or Black Blood from being able to see them, at least not when close. But from a distance? They should be good. Should be.

The last building at the edge of the city held a convenience store and some shitty apartments above it. The road kept on and on though, asphalt disappearing behind the low hills of the desert. Maybe a quarter mile down the road, there was a gas station. And around the gas station, was a dozen blood wraiths, drifting around, massive claws dangling from long black arms underneath their smoky, dripping torsos of red and black, colors flowing like wet ink. No legs, just black and red smoke.

Above the gas station building, maybe five feet over its flat roof, was a tear. Straight out of a SciFi or something, it genuinely looked like a tear in reality, as if someone or something had dragged a claw along the air and cut through it to something behind it. As if the air was a curtain hiding something, and someone had taken a knife to it. As if... a whole bunch of dumb metaphors that couldn't quite get across what they were looking at.

But it was something they'd seen before, all of them. And just like the one in the hospital, it looked frayed at the edges, like it really had damaged the material around it.

The group crouched at the edge of the building. Natasha squinted like a squirrel, either from trying to see the tear from a distance, or from how she had to focus to keep them all wrapped in her Cloak. Thankfully they'd brought some binoculars, and Eric took a peek.

"It's different than the verges," Matt said. "The other portals in the city, old and closed, you know? Jack came through one of them once, with Fiona and Damien. We checked it out. But it was old and stable. These new ones are... well," he gestured to the tear in the distance, "not stable."

"So those azlu creatures are drawn to them?" Sándor asked. "Because they want to seal the tears?"

"Yeah, but we don't know why so many keep coming. Azlu want to block off the Gauntlet. They would see a hole and go to work on it like beavers. But it's really weird for multiple azlu to show up at the same time. Unless they can sense something we don't."

"How did they develop such an instinct?"

"A question for Father Wolf," Art said, body a subtle blur of shadow beside them. "But you'll have to go back in time a ways to talk to him."

"How far?" The Begotten almost sounded serious.

"No idea. Ten thousand years? A million?"

"Quite the range."

"Yeah well, none of us know for sure what happened to our ancestor, or if he even existed. But Luna holds us responsible. If you wanna know, ask her."

Eric handed the binoculars to Sándor, sneaking a glance to Art as he did. If Luna didn't talk to them, but talked to him, maybe he could ask? Then again, asking a supposed deity about the death of her supposed mate, was probably a great way to get smote.

"We don't know," Matt said, "how the hosts learned to do what they do. Might as well ask a normal spider how it learns to spin a web. There's probably an answer, but best we can guess is instinct."

"The instinct of a monster," Sándor said. "A terrifying proposition." After few moments of silence as they all absorbed what the nightmare monster said, Sándor lowered the binoculars, squinted, and looked again. "I... don't know what's through that tear."

Matthew shrugged. "We don't either. We thought the tears always went between the physical and shadow halves, but then you guys found that tear in your nightmare room... place... thing, the one that went to that place with all the ghosts."

"I've seen that ghost realm, long ago. I avoided it, but I've seen it. I've seen other realms connected to ours, as well. Dreams, nightmares, the spirits, the dead, but other things too. Odd creatures, and..." Sándor lowered the binoculars, and handed them to Matthew, without ever moving his eyes off the tear. Whatever he saw stunned him. "I don't recognize what I see through that tear."

"Is that... bad?" Natasha asked.

With a heavy groan, Sándor tore his eyes away from the gas station, and looked each of them in the eyes. "I've seen the bright place, where nightmares cannot go. My horror cannot go where the Dark Mother doesn't allow, but at least it understood what we saw through those woods and into the shining light of the bright place. But I've also seen across chasms between realms into... into things I can't understand. This tear reminds of that, of staring across a... colossal emptiness, into things I can't fathom, or reach."

Mister stoic was also apparently a poet. And good with ghost stories, because despite his steady tone, everyone stared at him like he was describing their inevitable deaths to some deadly poltergeist.

"Begotten really get to realm hop, don't they?" Matt said.

The Begotten nodded. "If I've been there, I can find a way to tunnel back there from my lair. If I've found a doorway, I can open it, no matter who has created it. I've opened some strange doors in my long life, made by strange entities. I say this so you know I've seen a lot of things, and..." He sighed again and gestured back toward the tear. "I don't know."

"How much longer till sunrise?" Eric asked.

"An hour," Natasha said. "I'd prefer more time. Maybe... m-maybe we should retreat? There's m-more of those wraiths here than you'd thought there'd be, right?" She gestured to the boys, and they nodded. "We've learned a lot tonight. A lot... lot lot lot. I..."

"Have to talk to the Prince." Art nodded, and pat Natasha on the shoulder. "And we have to talk to Avery."

Eric raised a hand. "Avery's going to freak out that you told us about Minerva."

"Yes," Sándor said, "and so will the Prince, after a fashion."

The little vampire nodded, looked down, and frowned. "It's... it's such bad t-timing. The Invictus and Carthians are fighting, and it's only going to get worse, and the P-P-Prince is..."

"Let those vamps do their thing," Art said, "and we'll take care of this. We have to take care of this."

Matthew shook his head. "But if Avery pisses off those wraiths, Black Blood will get involved. We're still not sure what its bans are. We think it can't interfere with us if we don't interfere directly with it, but we don't know for sure. And we still don't know what its banes are, either. No idea how to hurt it."

"Then we'll have do this the sneaky way," Art said, grinning.

Matt returned the grin, nodding. "Sneaky."

Eric looked between the two men as they nodded to each other, and the glance between them spoke a million words. The two of them were so in sync with each other, it was like looking at one person. In that one glance between them, they shared a million ideas, a million plans and failures, and a million conversations. No wonder they were comfortable in their relationship with Natasha.

"Alright," Natasha said. "Let's head back. W-We can make a plan, and get a better look at that tear another night. And see if we can do it without B-B... Black Blood catching us."

Catching us, and killing us, Eric thought.

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~~Antoinette~~

Within one of the changing rooms of Antoinette's tower, the elder delighted in one of her greatest guilty pleasures: playing dress up with another.

It almost surprised Antoinette, how little effort it required to convince her childe to try on the new dress. She knew better than to call attention to the behavior; the perfect way to make anyone stop a new, desired behavior, was to call attention to it. But still, Antoinette found herself smiling as her childe slipped the fishnet top over her head.

"I feel naked."

"And you look naked. Well, nearly."

Samantha squirmed and wriggled like a worm on a hook, and adjusted the black bikini top underneath the fishnet top. Again. It was a tiny thing, barely enough to cover her nipples, and considering it was latex, it reflected light beautifully. No doubt it would draw wandering eyes, as intended.

"Isn't this Jessy's shirt?"

"Of course not. Though, I have seen the Gangrel wear such clothes before. Brazen and blatant, are they not?"

Samantha frowned as she looked down at herself, at the high hip thong and tiny latex skirt, the fishnet stockings, and the top. "I look like I should be going to a rave, or m-maybe star in an action film where I wear sunglasses all the time. It's like... if I wanted to use my boobs as a weapon, this is how I'd dress them."

Antoinette chuckled. "Ah yes, to empower your décolletage with the ability to kill. Such is the purpose of these clothes."

"I meant more like, how I literally look like a super villain or something."

"Perhaps to you. To me, you look like a young woman from the eighties who spends her nights going to public, dangerous gatherings and hunting for thrills."

Samantha giggled and spun around in front of the tall mirror a few times, trying to catch a glimpse of her reflection. Of course there were more mirrors about, with tri-sections surrounding her to let her see all of herself, and she grinned as she looked herself up and down, front and behind.

"I was never that kinda girl, you know?"

"Oui, but I have a sneaking suspicion you wished you had been. And with Dolareido's infinite pleasures so close, I am surprised you did not taste them."

"I met James when I was pretty young. And sure, we did some crazy stuff, but... not crazy by Dolareido standards."

"I assume that has been changing, with your growing relationship with Jacob?"

After a mischievous grin, Samantha paused in front of the mirror, and looked herself up and down several more times, confidence building in her expression. She also wore several silver bracelets and a necklace to match the black ensemble, along with heels; not the usual necklace she wore, not tonight. The dress was loud, as was all fashion from the eighties, and perfect for their mission for the night.

"I think you're right. Jacob's been, uh... still helping me find ways to enjoy myself. Him, and the others."

Antoinette, standing on the other side of the changing room and before her own array of mirrors, held a long dress of black against her naked body as she peeked over her shoulder at her childe.

"You tempt me to ask of Othello."

"Oh god, Othello, him and Madison are--"

"Non non, do not tell me, childe. I am delighted that you have awakened to sexual bliss, but some things will lose their allure if you share them openly."

"But, you always wanted to know everything I was up to? Especially the sexy stuff."

Nodding, Antoinette let the black dress fall over her head. It was barely more than a few strips of fabric, with an open back and a cross over her breasts, loose strips that only decades of practice allowed her to walk in without exposing herself.

"I did, and do. But you must admit some pleasures are pleasurable because of how taboo they are, non? In the future, many years from now, such things will no longer be dark, dirty little secrets, and you may find yourself chasing the indescribable bliss of indulging such carnal sins, bliss you can only experience when knowing full well the acts are taboo. Chasing, but never again quite able to find."

Antoinette rejoined her childe and stood behind her, looking the reflection up and down and admiring her choice of fashion. Samantha thought she looked like a villainess or femme fatale, and while Antoinette would not have used such descriptors, it fit, in a strange, naive way. Perhaps in the future, Samantha would feel more comfortably actively dressing to look, as Jessy would no doubt put it, a 'slut in heat', but for now, she would entertain the silly woman's delightful flights of fancy.

"Therefore," she continued, "if you have been indulging, perhaps... some rather indecent acts with Jacob and the Circle, I would say to keep it secret, for now. If, say, you have experienced a rather joyous time with both Othello and Jacob filling your body with theirs," she leaned down until her chin was over her childe's shoulder, so she could look her in the eyes through the mirror's reflection, "I would advise to keep it to yourself, for now. If you have ever found yourself with both of them inside you, together, while perhaps that infuriating Jennifer and intriguing Beatrice touched you, an act of pure obscene indecency, I would advise you to keep it to yourself... for now."

Every word had Samantha squirming and looking away, embarrassed as Antoinette described acts the woman had obviously already indulged in, or was on the precipice of doing so. And now, thanks to Antoinette's words, sealing the acts as taboo in her childe's mind, Samantha would enjoy them a thousand times more.

Oh, to feel that rush again, the joys of discovering a new kink, a new way to explore and embrace eroticism, when such things were discouraged. Blurry memories danced through her mind, teasing her with her inability to solidify them, but her memories were not so lost she could not recall sensations, and emotions.

"I do suggest you keep a journal," Antoinette said. "Avoid mentioning anything that could break the Masquerade if discovered, and I would also suggest using pen and paper. Your memories can be archived safely, and in several hundred years, when deep torpors have rendered these memories hazy mirages, you can read your own words from a time long forgotten. It is a... powerful experience."

"I should do that! That makes sense." Nodding, her childe spun in front of the mirror a couple more times, smile ever growing.

"You like Jacob. You wish to spend time with him. You wish to see him smile."

Blinking, confused, Samantha looked up at her through the mirror. "Well, yeah. I mean, we're dating."

Antoinette could not help but laugh at the silly girl's obliviousness. She was too charming for her own good.