My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 19

Will he? He already had. Bruce was dead. Joe was dead. They were entirely his fault. Weren't they?

Azamel shook her head before he could say anything. "I have known many like you, Jack. You have an honest soul, and are full of empathy. But you must learn to harden yourself, or your desire to help others, to fix every problem you stumble upon whether you are involved or not, will break you. You will withdraw into yourself and try to hold the world at bay, as its pain and agony carve scars into your soul. You will grow bitter, and cynical. And I know you are intelligent enough to have seen this."

Story of his life. Azamel would have been a great therapist, if she talked to him when his dad died. He had closed in on himself when that happened, and hurt his mother doing so. He'd gotten better about it since his first death, and the idea of going back to being a closed off, cynical asshole, criticizing every flaw around him, terrified him. If it wasn't for Antoinette, he probably would have already, with all the shit that kept coming his way.

"Listen to me, Jack. The last words of an old monster who has made a million mistakes. Do not destroy yourself carrying the pains or burdens of others. Everyone must carry their own anchors, and while friends and family can help each other, you will destroy yourself trying to carry everyone's."

"I--"

"Do not argue, little vampire. I do not have the time or energy left."

"You're... you're right. Thanks, again." He couldn't even look her in the eye.

She nodded, and gestured to the building down the street. "Go. Make sure those two dogs put an immediate end to this war."

He turned, walked toward the building, got two steps, and spun around. "Azamel, I--"

"Go, Jack."

"But what about you? I can't--"

"Do not worry for me." Even as she said it, she struggled to stay sitting. The arm on her knee slid down to the street, and she leaned forward as her own weight dragged her down. She had to brace all four hands on the ground to keep from collapsing. Her breathing grew heavier and ragged, and her trunk dangled until it nearly hit the asphalt.

"Of course I worry! You're dying! How can you just accept that!? How--"

"Jack." She sighed again, smiling as she slowly shook her giant head. "I am glad to have met you. I am glad to have helped you. I am... content."

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~~Damien~~

Damien checked his phone. A text had come in a few minutes ago, apparently.

~All Invictus, cease and desist any and all combat with the Carthians. Mister Tones and I have come to an agreement and a truce. Right Hands and senior members, report to the Xnomina Headquarters tomorrow night, 23:00.~

Damien blinked at the phone, several times, before showing it to Jessy. She blinked at him, the phone, then pulled hers out and did the same. They were sitting on a rooftop, Cloaked, and hiding from a dozen Carthians out roof hopping trying to find them. The phones didn't buzz or make a sound, but the two vampires were hiding and didn't have much to do for the moment. Good thing he checked.

Damien shrugged, pointed at the two of them, then toward the fastest street out of the Carthian district, and shrugged again. No reason to not just walk out then? They were about to take one of the more scenic routes to get around the patrols, but if things were called off, then no reason to not just walk back? On the road? Out in the open?

No, probably a bad idea. The Carthians might not have--

Jessy stood up, and threw up a hand. "Hey! Whatever assholes are chasing us, check your phones! If you can afford one, you broke bastards!"

Damien facepalmed hard enough it made a slap sound. "Jessy, Garry might not have sent them a message yet."

"Ah come on, you think Michael would send that message first? Pretty sure they'd stand next to each other, and actively watch each other send the message, ready to fuck each other up if one of them tried to trick the other, you know?"

That was true. Damien slowly stood up, and checked around the rooftop for any pursuers. No one. He pulled out his binoculars, and spotted one vampire on a rooftop a good ways away. They were looking at their phone.

"Either way." Damien touched her shoulder, and wrapped them in his Cloak of Night again. "I don't trust the Carthians to not take a shot at us for fun, or they might say they shot us before the message was received."

"Dude you are paranoid."

"You would do well to be a little more paranoid."

"Ha. You sound like my sire." She started down the fire escape, and he followed after her. "So, you think Jack convinced them?"

"Yes. And probably not without a fair bit of violence."

"Yeah, probably. I'll go back to HQ and check up on Michael. You?"

"Back to my apartment." Or Fiona's. He was starving. After two hours of playing hide and seek with a bunch of Carthians, draining his blood reserves to fuel his Cloak, reapplying the Cloak over and over, he was quite drained. If necessary, he'd feed on a random kine, but Fiona preferred to be the one he fed on.

Feeding on someone frequently wasn't healthy for the prey, if done too frequently in a small time frame. But Fiona healed quickly, and he was happy to indulge. It almost always led to sex, and he'd grown quite addicted to both the rush her monster blood sent through him, but also the sex. One more step to becoming yet another proper Dolareidian.

Another text came in, from Jack, from one of his backup phones. He did have a habit of getting them destroyed.

~You guys ok?~

~Yeah, we're fine. Distraction work?~

~Yeah, worked great, thanks. Got Michael and Garry talking. It was brutal.~

Damien showed Jessy the conversation, before he called Jack. Texting would forever be a frustrating nuisance.

"The meeting tomorrow night," Damien said. "You'll be there?

"Yeap. And before that, Michael's taking me to Amanda. I want you there. Jessy can go out and make sure the Invictus and Carthians fucking listen to the truce order while we deal with that problem."

"Any idea about why Michael staked her?"

"Yeah. Amanda gave him a story about Carthians killing a kine friend of hers, so she wanted revenge. I'm mostly sure it's bullshit. Something's up."

"Will you Dominate her to learn the truth?"

"I'd prefer to not. And that'll only help if she's lying. Can you use Auspex to gleam some truth from her?"

"I can try." It was not Damien's strong suit. Speed, stealth, sure. He'd even glimpsed the past from objects on occasion with Auspex, or caught a peek at a hidden truth about someone. What Jack was asking for was Auspex's ability to sync Damien's mind to a victim's, essentially becoming them for a time. A useful trick for uncovering memories or discovering secrets buried in a person's mind. It was not something Damien could do, or at least not well. It was something Lucas struggled to do, and used rarely.

"Think I should ask the sheriff?" Jack asked.

"It may come to that. But the man is busy." Hunting for anything he could about Black Blood and the ritual, no doubt. "I think we should talk with Amanda first."

"Agreed. Let me talk to Jessy for a bit?"

Damien handed Jessy the phone.

"Dude, you got Garry and Michael to fuck off? How? Wait, seriously? Holy fuck dude, that's awesome! Oh... Oh Michael is going to be a sour bitch for a while isn't he. Fuck. Well fuck you, man! He's my sire! I have to deal with him more than you!"

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He found Fiona on his bed. For a moment, he thought she was lying on her side in a sexy position, curled up with her head buried in his pillow, waiting for him to come ravage her. But as he came closer, he found her trembling, and her sobs muffled by the pillow.

"Fiona?" He sat down on the bed next to her, and stroked her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She lifted her head, revealing her ruined mascara. She was never the sort to wear a lot of make up, but what little she did wear was smeared all over her cheeks, and his pillow. Tears soaked both.

"Damien!" She threw herself at him, as much as she could while lying, and flattened her chest against his. She hid her face in his neck, and cried. And not a tender whimper, or a sad sob. She bawled, almost screaming as she cried directly into his ear.

He didn't mind. Confused, but didn't mind. He hugged her, twisting so he was sitting directly on the bed, and she was half on his lap, half pinned against his chest. With one hand holding her waist and back, the other held the back of her head, and he leaned in to press his cheek against the side of her head, against the almost spongy texture of her frizzy hair.

"What happened?" he asked, after a few minutes of her cries. The fancy, expensive apartments of Dolareido had a lot of sound insulation, but she was borderline screaming. Neighbors might notice.

"Azamel... she... she..." That was all she managed. Back to loud sobs and cries, and more than a few heavy sniffles. Some snot probably coated his shoulder, and he didn't care.

So Azamel was dead. It was amazing she'd lasted as long as she had, considering what Jeremiah had done to her. After the failed ritual, Azamel had withered down to nothing in a matter of weeks, but somehow held on. Far as Damien knew, she'd been training Sándor to be her replacement, and acclimating him to the family. Fiona wasn't the biggest fan of Sándor, because he was a pretty stoic guy, and preferred to be closed off. He was the father she now had to deal with, because the grandmother she used to live with died.

He sighed as he nodded, and stroked her head. He was tempted to say some platitudes, to offer some sort of condolences or sympathy. It wouldn't have helped, and he sucked at them anyway. Fiona didn't want meaningless words. She wanted Azamel. She wanted her grandma.

So he did the only thing he could. He hugged her close, and let her cry.

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~~Antoinette~~

She stood in her tower, in the highest office, her grand office, and stared out the window.

'He's disappeared.' That was what Daniel had told her over the phone an hour ago. The man had been watching Jack, to perhaps interfere if the curse overstepped itself. And if need be, to remove Jack from the situation, deem him effectively dead, and remove him from the Invictus. He would no longer be allowed to help the covenants. A way to spare his life, to keep him for herself, while also satisfying whichever covenant succeeded in nearly killing him.

She snarled as she waited, grinding her teeth in a way most unbecoming. This had not been part of the plan. If the curse was released during Jack's encounter with Michael and Garry, Daniel would interfere. But while the Mekhet had looked for an opportunity to stop the Ripper, Jack and the two Gangrels disappeared. Which could only be the work of the Begotten. And since the Prince had no way to penetrate their realm of dreams, she was forced to wait until either Jack or the two Primogen found a way out of the maze of nightmares, or the Begotten released them.

If Azamel so much as--

Her laptop beeped. She turned and glared at it, ready to smash the thing to pieces. But self control won over, and she stepped over to examine the screen. A report from one of her thralls.

~Invictus and Carthians are both calling a truce.~

Well now, that was good news. If another building went up in flames, she would have been forced to pay a visit to the two infidels personally. Better news in that it likely meant Jack was alive, and had succeeded in his plot.

Then where was he?

It was another thirty minutes of agony before another report came in. Jack had been found, not far from where he had disappeared. Naturally, Antoinette sent a driver his way, and soon the boy was being escorted to her tower.

Not long after, the boy stepped into her office.

"Jack, you... look terrible." Normally she would have sat in her chair and offered him a seat in one of the visitor chairs. But she walked over to him, and set a hand on his shoulder as she looked him up and down.

He managed a weak smile, and nodded. Terrible was an understatement. His suit was in tatters. His left hand was missing. Chunks of his body looked dented and warped. His head missed a portion of skin and hair. He must have been in agony. And yet he did not show it.

"Azamel's dead. Or... will be, before the night is over."

Oh dear. Antoinette sighed, and took Jack's remaining hand. The office would not do for this conversation.

Jack said nothing as she took him back to the elevator he had just exited. He tried to look at her, to smile, but his eyes fell, and a heavy weight pulled on his expression. And as the elevator took them down and down into the quiet safety of her Elysium Tower's underbelly, he squeezed her hand.

She guided him to Ashley and Julee. Both girls were studying, each sitting on a couch while classical musical played in the background. They preferred EDM or dubstep, musical 'genres' crass enough to make Antoinette's skin crawl. But studying while listening to classical music was a proven methodology, and she insisted.

But they would soon be asleep, as Jack needed blood.

"My pets, if you please," she said, gesturing to Jack as she stepped into the quiet room of black marble and soft couches.

Jack did not so much as say a word. Normally he would insist he did not need their blood, that he could hunt on his own, or use Veronica. He had likely drained Veronica tonight to prepare for his bout with the two Gangrels, but that was not the reason he did not fight her on this. The poor boy looked drained, emotionally and physically.

Her two precious ghouls hopped up, and their smiles vanished. They stared at Jack, at his destroyed suit and broken body, and his missing hand. They both gulped, and walked to him, the invisible weight the boy carried dragging the two girls down with him through sheer proximity.

He took of both of them. No word, no fuss, and no attempt to treat the girls with a teasing hand or seductive Kiss. He simply drained them, quickly and efficiently.

Antoinette watched her lover as his wounds began to heal. The hand would take time to regrow, though considering the ludicrous amount of power the curse had, it would take merely a single night. The other wounds, the missing skin, the dented and broken flesh, wounds that left bits of his insides exposed, it healed over at such a rate she could see it with her naked eye. A terrible, and terrifying power.

Antoinette set both girls down on the couches, and made sure they were set in comfortable positions, before she turned to Jack once again, and subtly reached out. He did not even look at her as he took her hand, and held it as they walked to her bedchamber. Their bedchamber.

He sat at the foot of the bed, and she joined him, the colossal room and enormous bed suddenly seeming quite empty and sad, as if to match his mood.

"You succeeded with Mister McDonald and Mister Tones?"

"Yeah."

"You had to fight them, I assume."

"Yeah."

"And... the curse was involved."

He nodded. "Didn't break the Masquerade, but it got close."

"I am sorry to say it, but I cannot deny that the curse is a forced to be reckoned with, if it was able to defeat Michael and Garry in combat. Did they defeat each other first?"

"No. I mean, they hurt each other, but... yeah, it was mostly the curse." His shoulders slumped, and the poor boy's hand fidgeted with the blanket. "Another thousand rats died because of me."

She nodded, and cast her eyes toward the door of the chamber. There was an art to listening. If someone was looking down and away while sitting next to you as they spoke, it was sometimes the correct thing to look to the distance, adopting the 'thinking gaze'. It was not a deception, either.

"It is a terrible shame that such horrible things happen through you." She waited for his response. There was none. She would have to coax more information out of him. "What happened after? Daniel reports you disappeared."

"The fight was getting out of hand until Azamel showed up and... opened a portal right on top of us, into one of her nightmare rooms. Not sure how she did it. Someone turned off the light in the basement. Probably Mark. Turned it back on, and we were in the dream world."

Ah. Azamel was far too powerful for her own good. Though if Jack's words rang true, the old woman was dead, and no longer a thorn in Antoinette's side.

How callous. Clearly there was more to Azamel than Antoinette knew, considering how devoted her friends, her family were to her. And, considering Jack's reaction.

"Why did she do such a thing?"

"Two reasons, I guess. She wanted Garry and Michael to start a truce, so... so when she was gone, the war would be over. She was worried if the Ripper killed them, it'd create a power vacuum, you know? Vampires killing each other, burning down buildings... everything that's been happening, just worse."

"Azamel is wise, and old. She has likely seen such destruction before. The other reason?"

He sighed, looking down, hands between his legs and resting against the bed's edge. "She wanted to help me. And... you should have seen her, Antoinette. She was dying."

"I am sorry, my love, but you saw her only days prior. You--"

"No, she was merged with her Horror thing, you know? She was this giant monster creature, and she... she could barely sit up. And I was talking to her, and she was dying right in front of me. I was... christ, I was talking to her, and she was nice to me."

"Nice?"

"Nice, in a way I'd never seen. Fiona said Azamel was nice to her, but all I ever knew was this bitch old woman."

"You are not alone in that, my love."

"But she... she was nice to me. She could have lived longer, you know? It wasn't easy for her to do what she did, to yank me and Garry and Michael into the nightmare, opening a door right on top of us. She even flipped a building. It took a lot out of her. A lot lot out of her, and then she beat me, and--"

"She beat you?"

"Defeated me. Got her hands on me and squashed me." He gestured to himself. "Half of this is from her."

"Oh my. And the Gangrels?"

"The Ripper beat them. But they were recovering while Azamel had me pinned, and she caught them. They wanted her to kill me, because of the curse, but she said no, caught them, and forced them to agree to a truce."

Azamel was a better negotiator than Antoinette realized. And why would she not be a great negotiator? The old woman ran a city once, many years ago. To be a talented negotiator would have been a requirement, to at least some degree.

After a few moments of silence, Jack leaned against her, and set his head against her shoulder.

"She could have killed me, Antoinette. That would have been an easy way to get Garry and Michael on her side. They wanted... want me dead, for tricking them, for abusing--" He jumped to his feet and threw his arms up. "Oh shit! I told them. Ripper told them."

"Told them?"

"About the ritual or whatever being done in Dolareido. They know something's up now."

Antoinette sighed and nodded. "That is unfortunate. The more that know, the more difficult it is for us to hide our actions. But Garry and Michael are not capable of only animalistic gestures and loud noises, my love. They are elders, and can be intelligent, and even reserved, when it suits their needs."

Jack did not look convinced. Considering the Hell he had just gone through, all to deal with Garry and Michael's infuriating, infantile grudge, she did not blame him. But the poor boy did not understand. Kindred did not deal with slights as humans did. Humans abandoned their grudges as they aged, or they were destroyed by them. Vampires were immortal, and struggled to change. To spend a hundred years living a single mile from someone you blamed for losing someone precious to you? Such resentment in such proximity eventually boiled over.