My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 19

Slowly, he sat beside her again, and she slipped an arm over his shoulders.

"I will speak to them, to ensure they understand what ails my city, and what they must do."

"Yeah... yeah ok. Michael and I are going to unstake Amanda tomorrow night, and see if we can figure out what happened. I'm pretty sure she lied to Michael about something, to convince him to use her to trigger this war."

"Is that what happened?"

"Yeah. Something's going on. Me and Damien are gonna find out. Do... do you think Daniel could do that Auspex thing I hear about? Sorta... learn about her, and her secrets?"

Antoinette tapped a finger against her chin. "If necessary. Daniel spends his nights... hunting. But if this is being done tomorrow night, then you may summon him."

Auspex was a terribly tricky and fickle ability. It did not turn secrets into an encyclopedia to be read. Antoinette did not trust what information it gleamed, but that did not mean something of value could not be learned. With Daniel hunting for more information about Black Blood, and skirting the edges of its awareness, his time was valuable. And yet, if they could learn something from Amanda that suggested Black Blood was involved, that would be useful information indeed.

She ran her fingers over Jack's head, against the grain of his buzzed hair, and the boy relaxed into her touch.

"This is a victory," she whispered. "No more do two of my Primogen kill each other's Kindred. No more do they burn my city. And while they have learned of the dark presence earlier than I planned, I had planned to tell them eventually. They had to know, my love."

"I guess."

"And if Black Blood is involved in Amanda's supposed lie, then there is something to learn. You may have discovered the perfect opportunity to uncover this plot."

Jack looked up at her, eyebrow raised. She chuckled, and rubbed his head more. There was no chance Amanda would be carrying a secret detail in her mind that would be the key to ending the ritual. Kindred, and likely other paranormal entities like Black Blood knew particular vampires, like Daniel, were capable of uncovering secrets from the darkness of people's minds, and even experiences. They were careful.

A game of shadows. Kindred played them well, but whatever dark art Black Blood pursued, it must have done so for many years now, decades. Centuries? She had to be very careful. A private conversation with Mister Tones and Mister McDonald was in order.

Jack looked back down, and silence fell on them once more. The poor boy was often forward with her about his ailments, now that their relationship had progressed so. Not tonight, evidently. Perhaps a little more prodding, to see if he wanted to speak of it, but needed to be coaxed yet again.

"Something else is on your mind, my love."

He sighed as he nodded, and nudged his temple into her shoulder. "Yeah."

"Do you wish to speak of it?"

"I don't know. It's... weird."

"By all means, if you wish to hold it in..."

"It's not that. It's..." He turned his head enough his forehead pressed to her shoulder. "Azamel. I... I offered to stay with her, until the end."

"Yes, I imagine you did."

"She said no. Basically kicked me out."

"And this bothers you?"

"It... It's not what she did that bothers me. It's why. She was protecting me, I think. From me."

"Protecting you?" she asked.

"Yeah. She said some things, kinda told me I need to get over myself. That I can't fix everything. And I noticed something she was implying. That I... I guess I seek out shit to get wrecked over. That I'm a glutton for punishment. That I'm making myself miserable."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah, fuck me, right? Do I have a case of martyrdom, or something? A masochist? Do I throw myself into situations where I have to... have to carry a burden?"

She mirrored his sigh, and stroked his head more. "I would be lying if I said you did not drift toward such situations."

His sigh turned into a groan. "Azamel thinks if I keep it up, I'll grow up to be a bitter, cynical old man."

Antoinette chuckled, a tender and motherly sound. "Jack, you are already a bitter, cynical old man."

"Hey."

"But there is also a deep need in you to help others. For some reason, there is a spark inside you that craves not pain, but to block others from pain. Do not think yourself a masochist. You are, however, doomed to an eternity of throwing yourself between others and the pain that would befall them, even when it would be a poor decision. Even if nothing would come of it, except for more pain."

"That... does sound like me, yeah. I wanted to be there for Azamel when she died. Didn't even fucking cross my mind that it'd be dumb to do that, that I'd be just throwing more weight on my shoulders. Azamel said she's known people like me before, and she was insistent I go. Said Mark would get Athalia and Fiona, and that she didn't need me." He rubbed his forehead side to side against her shoulder. "Ugh, why am I like this?"

"You are not always like this. But when those you consider worth protecting are in pain, it is a reflex that takes over. Like Azamel, I have known people like you. But not Kindred."

"Not all Kindred are selfish assholes. What about you?"

"You know very well my desires for a change in our nature, and in the methodology of our kind's pursuits, is also a selfish desire. I am intelligent. I am wise. But I am no saint, little Ventrue. I am afraid you and you alone of the two of us, are burdened with such a horrible curse."

He chuckled, but kept his head where it was. "That why I love you?"

"Partly."

"Other part?"

"I am a buxom creature, and beautiful beyond words."

He chuckled again. Good. It hurt terribly to see her little Ventrue suffer, especially when victory was had, and the pain should have been left behind. But Jack was Jack, and he picked up the pain and added it to the anchor wrapped around his throat without hesitation.

"I--" His phone rang. Connected to a private network, just for him, without fear of her monitoring his messages, or him monitoring hers. The joys of working for two different covenants. "That's Damien."

"By all means." She released his head.

He checked his phone, and what little joy she had kindled in his expression vanished, ripped away by the inevitable.

"Azamel's dead. Fiona's crying in his arms right now. She... she died not long after I left."

Antoinette slowly nodded as she set a gentle hand on the boy's. "Were Athalia and Fiona with her?"

"Yeah. They got to say their goodbyes, according to Damien."

"Then I am sure she died content, my love. As content as a frustrating old woman like Azamel can be."

Jack managed a slow nod, but no smile followed. "Yeah. I... I think she did."

Antoinette gently took the phone, and set it on the bed. With a tender smile, she reached out, and guided the boy to lie down, until his head rested upon her lap, his legs on the bed. There, she rested a hand on his stomach while her other caressed his head.

"I know you are in pain. I know you connected with Azamel in a way I did not. I know her death could have been avoided, if you, or any of us, managed to defeat Jeremiah before he enacted his ritual. I know the death of your sister, and Julias, at the hands of Angela eats away at you each and every night." Her caressing hand gently slid over his face, and closed his eyes, before she returned to his buzzed hair. His eyes stayed closed. "But understand that not only are you not to blame for any of these horrible things, you also managed to pull victory from these dire situations. You have done better than most would. Take solace in that knowledge, that more people would be dead or hurt, if not for your efforts."

A tiny smile broke through his morose expression, eyes still closed. "Yeah?"

"Our second lives can be cruel, horrible affairs, but you and I both strive to make them better for ourselves and the people in them. It is one of the many reasons I love you."

Jack's small but powerful smile remained, and he nodded as he relaxed against her lap.

Antoinette pet his head, and pulled out her own phone with her offhand. "I must send Daniel a message."

"Something secret?"

"Non."

"Oh... about Azamel."

"Oui. I believe my old friend will want to visit Athalia."

"Athalia? Really? Figured she'd want to be alone, and brood and stuff. Azamel's death will hit her the hardest."

"Athalia will indeed want to brood and withdraw into herself. But there is more to her than a cold woman, made of ice. She will not realize it at first, I imagine. There will be some resistance from her. But Daniel will -- due to my guidance -- melt her cold shell and... I am sorry, I am speaking of deeply personal matters of my good friend."

"You need more girl friends to talk about this stuff with."

"I have Ashley and Julee, and Elaine." She grinned down at Jack, and poked his nose, causing his eyes to open. "And I have your mother."

"Oh god. You don't talk to her about sex stuff about me, do you?"

"I do not say your name, if that is what you mean."

He stared at her, eyes widening. "But she can figure out who you're talking about?"

"Most likely."

"Oh god."

"If it is any consolation, your mother is happy that you are a talented, giving lover."

"Oh god."

They chuckled, but after a few moments, the weight returned to Jack's face. He closed his eyes again, and she stroked his hair, as the boy no doubt turned a thousand possibilities through his mind, looking for a way he could have done better. A compulsion he had little control over.

So she did what she could. She caressed his scalp, and did her best to soothe his pain. She was intelligent. She was wise. But from the outside, she could only help so much. It was her curse, to watch the man she loved tear himself to pieces.

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~~Jack~~

The next night, he woke up to a regrown hand. Hard to say exactly how that worked, what happened during the day while he slept and whatnot. No vampire would feel comfortable being filmed while sleeping, either.

His aches and pains were gone, too. He sat up, rotated his shoulders, twisted his wrist, flexed his fingers -- both hands -- and wiggled his toes. All in working order.

More than that. Realization came like a rush, and he looked down at the blankets. The war was over. Azamel was dead, but the war was over, and she helped. He told the Begotten to stay out of it, but Azamel helped him in the end.

Figures. The first time she did something truly compassionate for him, for vampires, and it was with her last breath. Christ, that fucking sucked.

Don't be sad. You won, Jack. Sorta. Now he had a massive amount of clean up to do. He had to deal with Michael, and their relationship was probably worse now. But hey, if he got through to Garry and Michael, and he thought he did, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Either way, worth it to get people to stop killing each other.

He looked down beside him at Antoinette. She smiled up at him, head still on her pillow, but she said nothing.

"I gotta get ready for that thing with Michael and Amanda. Then there's an Invictus meeting after, and I'll be going to that too."

"I see."

"I'll tell you if we learn anything, from Amanda. Should I involve Michael?"

"You have little choice in that matter anymore."

"I guess. I'll, uh, try and be reasonable with what I tell him."

"Indeed. Avoid telling him more than he needs to know. Unfortunately, that means exposing that Black Blood is suspect, and possibly Jacob."

"Damn. I'll try and be discrete."

She reached up from under the blankets, pushing them down enough to free her arm, and she rubbed his back. After a few moments, she used her nails, and scratched his back, sending pleasant chills up and down his body.

"It is the first night I do not need thralls scouting the city for potential Masquerade violations in many months. The first night in some time, I do not have to split my sheriff's time between hunting for more of Black Blood's acts, and worrying about what chaos the Carthians and Invictus might cause. All thanks to you."

He grinned down at her. He recognized that tone in her voice, and the devious smile. She was purposefully stroking his ego.

He slipped back under the covers, cuddled into her side, and buried his face in her closer breast. Soft, heavy, supple, the huge pillow was ridiculously comfortable, and ridiculously massive. He never wanted to leave.

Antoinette bent her arm, its bicep under his head and neck, and rubbed his hair as she helpfully pressed him into her breast. They weren't going to have sex. He had shit to do. But it was nice to spend ten minutes just cuddling with his lover.

It almost felt anticlimactic. The war was over, kinda. A truce. He didn't need to worry about shit anymore. Mostly. He didn't need to worry about getting sniped, or getting set on fire. He didn't need to go on patrols. He didn't need to deal with that fucker Jeremy Long. Now, he could focus on the much bigger issue.

He needed to talk to his mom. A weird as fuck thought to have, when burying his face in his super tall girlfriend's super massive boob. But, the way Azamel spent her last bits of energy, or life, helping him and his problems? Couldn't help but make him think of a mom. Azamel had never seemed like a mother to him, despite Fiona's insistence that she was, or a grandmother. At least until last night.

Mental note: make time for your mother, you idiot.

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He took a slow, useless breath, and opened the door.

Michael waited in his office, seated at the large table, dressed in a nice suit, but looking beat up. He didn't show it, but Jack could see some cuts on his neck and hands that weren't fully healed. They were a million times worse last night, but there were still wounds that Jack's curse would have healed over night if he had them.

Michael realized it, too. He looked at Jack, looked at his exposed head, neck, and hands, and the fact he had both hands back. A solid poker face, but Jack could see the man was annoyed Jack had fully recovered already. Which would make the following conversation even more annoying, with Jack having to navigate the man's ego.

"Mister Terry," he said. Ok, titles, that was good, kinda. "I see your curse has healed you." Wow, he even approached the topic directly. Strange.

"It's powerful. Too powerful."

"Agreed. I also spoke to Maria last night, after our encounter."

"Oh?" Uh oh.

"She admitted to telling you about Roland."

Jack forced down the desire to wince, and kept his gaze on Michael. "Did she?"

"Don't play dumb. I'm not trying to get you to out her. She told you, and you decided to take matters into your own hands. You somehow arranged a trail of evidence that led to both Mister Tones and I believing that you were going to interfere with our... strange competition."

"I--"

"You decided the only way to have Garry and I talk and sort out our differences, was to have us butt heads with you in the middle. A free-for-all, fists flying." The man frowned. Jack didn't say anything this time. Michael wanted his monologue, so he let him monologue. "And there was some wisdom in that. Garry and I have been dancing around this issue for decades, and we never speak of it. It's private, personal, and it's been slowly growing more and more painful over the years. It was... a rather cold slap of reality, to know that it's blinded us to larger problems. And"--he pointed a finger at Jack, hand still on the table--"you will tell me about this larger problem, in greater detail, correct?"

Jack nodded. "Yes sir." Don't smile don't smile.

"Understand that the Carthians fight the Invictus and Lancea et Sanctum in most cities with a Kindred society, Mister Terry. My issues with Garry are hardly the reason for such an aged and widespread conflict. But Maria has helped me see that you touched a grain of truth with your accusations." The man sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "I do not know how long this truce will last. But for now, Mister Tones and I will instruct our covenants to leave each other be."

"Thank you."

"And I am fining you a million dollars, for your transgression against me. You will donate the money to the Xnomina corporation."

A million fucking dollars. Holy shit. Jack didn't have that in cash, but he had it in assets, stocks, all that shit. Not a big slap for someone like Antoinette, but for someone like Jack, the only reason he could even afford it was because of all the shit he inherited from Julias, what the Invictus didn't take.

"Yes sir." No point in arguing with him about it. Better this than making a big spectacle, and possibly another fight.

"You crossed a line doing what you did, Mister Terry. You disrespected me. But I know you did it because you wanted to save Kindred lives, and because the city faces a potentially larger threat. Those are the only reasons I do not have you killed." And the death threat, of course.

"It had to be done." Jack held a solid, cold face. He couldn't get too subservient now, or Michael might try and undermine him somehow.

Michael frowned harder. "I suppose it did." Nodding, he stood up and gestured to the door. "Now that that's out of the way, let's go awaken Miss Pol."

Jack mirrored the nod, and followed after Michael. Damien waited in the hall, and a small trade of smiles was enough to let him know things went well. The three of them got into the elevator, and no one said a word as they went down and down. This was awkward enough, and you didn't chitchat with your boss around, especially not a mob boss.

They came out on the bottom floor, one floor below where they kept the armaments. Down here, it wasn't like the Elysium Tower's basement, which was a maze of halls that connected to a myriad of strange rooms of many sizes. Listening rooms, changing rooms, wreck rooms, electronic rooms, a pool, and then higher, the experiment rooms Jack wasn't allowed to see. But in Xnomina, it was all business. Sure it was sleek and pristine upstairs, but the basement was all metal, like some sort of military storage facility; basically what it was, considering the weapons it stored.

Michael took them down one of the halls to one of the storage rooms. You couldn't access a storage room without permission, and to get permission you needed to go through Xnomina. Unless you were Michael. He plucked a keycard out of his pocket, waved it in front of the scanner, and the big metal door went beep boop, and unlocked with a loud click.

Inside was a bunch of empty metal shelves in an otherwise empty room, some LED strip lights above, and a dark tile floor, beneath which was probably more metal. Invictus didn't fuck around protecting their shit.

In the center of the room, sitting in a metal chair, was Amanda, a stake in her heart. A somewhat short black woman, with thin long black hair, and a soft, kind face, even when in torpor. She had a little more bite to her than her face suggested though, kinda like her sire Gloria. Mekhet did love to be sneaky.

Damien approached first. He squatted down in front of her, and looked her up and down. Dressed in a typical business suit, skirt and all, she looked perfectly normal.

"Should I wait for you to read her first?" Michael asked.

"No. I might need her awake to help."

The Gangrel nodded, and yanked the stake out of her heart with zero gentleness.

It took a few moments. Mekhet weren't exactly fast healers, and Amanda was only as old as Jack. But eventually her eyes shot open, and she sat up straight with a jolt as the hole in her chest sealed. A poor seal, just enough skin and flesh to keep her functioning.

The three men waited. Waking up from a stake in the heart was not fun, like waking up from daily torpor except with an even a harsher rush of awareness, and a whole bunch of pain. It was probably her first time getting staked, too. Combined with waking up in a storage room with three dudes staring at her, she was considerably freaked.