My Little Ventrue Pt. 09 Ch. 22

"Of course." He leaned over the railing next to her. "What'd the old girl have to say?"

"She's actually pretty happy about Sam."

Jacob laughed. "A Daeva, happy her childe's embraced sex. Whoda thunk."

"Well, that, yeah, but she sounded happy about... you."

For a moment, Jacob's lips fell into a frown, before he shook his head, and his usual smile was back.

"I was pretty happy for Annie, too, you know, when her relationship with Jack turned out to be more than just some fling."

"You two really are friends, aren't you?"

"Of course."

"You say that like it's obvious."

"She's good friends with Elaine, too. And Elaine's done more to undo Antoinette's work than I ever have."

"What, really?"

"Yeah. I don't know much about the Ordo"--she didn't believe that--"but Elaine has gotten in Antoinette's way a dozen times, back in Europe. The Prince was a young elder, just entering into her true power, and Elaine visited her castle. The two hit it off immediately, which probably included a whole lot of sex on top of a mountain of servants."

Triss grinned at the man, but her imagination couldn't resist. Jacob was one of those natural storyteller types. You couldn't help but listen and get absorbed, and Triss instantly imagined those two big-titted bitches, squashing themselves against each other, while a couple dozen guys and girls did things to them. Kinda hard not to imagine it, considering she'd just talked to the Prince yesterday, and the damn woman had her tits nearly hanging out of her robe.

Or, Triss, you're just as much a horny slut as every other girl in Dolareido was. Slut City.

"But then they started doing Kindred things," he continued. "Dragon things. So imagine Doctor Frankenstein, doing crazy experiments in his--her basement, and then another dragon comes along and steals information from her, or gives her some information while knowing full well it's wrong info, sending Frankenstein down the wrong path of research."

"Sounds like a dick thing to do."

"It is, to kine and their short lives. Vampires live in a different world. Give it a hundred years and you'll approach things differently. Professional rivalry means nothing next to a friend you can trust with personal stuff, when you measure your lifespan in centuries."

"Does Antoinette trust you?"

"With personal stuff? Absolutely." His grin did that crazy thing it sometimes did, and went full Joker on her. "Professionally? Absolutely not."

"I can't imagine you pushing her out and taking over Dolareido."

"Honestly? Me neither. Been here for a long time, but if I wanted a city that did things my way, I wouldn't start it here."

She blinked at the man, and gave him a small nudge with her hip. "You'd leave?"

"I've thought about it."

"But..." But he was the only stable thing she had in her life, the asshole. And considering how unstable the fucker was, that was saying something.

He returned her hip bump, which was fucking hilarious considering he was a five-hundred-year-old vampire wearing a leathery robe probably made of human skin. Triss couldn't help but laugh, even as she gulped at the thought of her boss suddenly not being around anymore.

"I'm not going anywhere for a while, and even if I did, you could come."

"Come? Leave Dolareido?"

He gasped and covered his mouth with a hand. "Leave Dolareido? But, Dolareido is life! No other city in the world exists! Beyond the walls, it's an endless wasteland! Radiation has poisoned the world!"

"Shut up." She looked down at the street, and tried to process. "Vampires don't usually leave their cities."

"You're right. But they do sometimes. Antoinette and I had big ideas when we came to America, and I think we succeeded in most of them. She definitely has."

"But... not you?"

He shook his head. "My goals have changed. If I want to obtain those goals, I need to make big changes. And you're invited."

"I... I don't..." Christ, that was such a scary thought. Leave Dolareido? Vampires had a healthy paranoia of leaving their home; being deathly allergic to sunlight did that. "Holy shit I don't know. When?"

"Not sure."

"Jesus fucking christ, Jacob. That's... I..."

Jacob laughed again and pat her on the shoulder, before going back to scanning the streets below. "Don't worry about it for now, kid. When the time comes, you'll know, and I'm sure when it happens, you'll have a better idea what you want to do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jen, come on, what's this about?" It took a lot of mental effort to not mention what Jacob told her, but it'd been super personal. If her boss wanted Jen or the other witches to know, he'd tell them.

"It's a surprise!"

"I'm not going to bang some random kine you found."

"No no, it's not that kind of surprise."

Triss raised a brow. Jen was one of those girls who fully embraced how sexually freeing being a vampire was. Which meant they had sex on the mind every minute of every night; similar to Elaine, according to Jack. Both Ventrue. Funny. So for Jen to have a surprise for her that didn't involve sex was pretty strange.

Jen guided her through the streets of Dolareido. Just a few years ago, Triss wouldn't have felt comfortable doing this. If someone noticed her face, it'd have ended badly. But Triss had gotten pretty damn good at the Face in the Crowd discipline since then, considering how much she'd had to use the Obfuscate disciplines in that time. Shit got crazy, and she'd had to adapt.

Beatrice was good for her age, damn good. Some vamps got good quick, or they died. Triss survived. Jacob knew what he was doing when he picked her.

Ego stroking aside, Triss was now plenty comfortable walking down the street, knocking shoulders with the kine. She still kept her black hair shoulder length and framing her face, hiding her crocodile teeth cheeks a bit, but still, she wasn't worried. She was good enough, powerful enough, that it just wasn't a concern anymore. Which of course Jen took full advantage of, and started taking her out to places in Dolareido, places Triss had avoided in her younger days.

Case in point, Jen guided her to a fucking lounge. The Quiet Note. Oh god, hippies. No no no. Triss tried to turn around, but Jen laughed and pushed her in anyway.

The Quiet Note was, predictably, quiet, with maybe a hundred people sitting around on nice leather couches along the dark walls, and small circular tables spread around the floor. There wasn't much lighting, just some dim lights above. There was a bar, but the sort of bar that didn't take orders whenever a perofrmer was on the stage on the other side of the room. The Quiet Note was written on that wall over the stage, written in gentle lights that didn't illuminate a damn thing. Even the walls had wallpaper, gray flower-like designs against the black.

The place was hideous. Just looking at it made her feel like she should have put on sweatpants and start writing shitty poetry.

"Ugh, this place is horrible," Triss whispered. "This is... this is the sort of place Julias would have come to."

Jen laughed into her ear, careful to stay quiet. The whole place really had that silent observer vibe.

"It's neat. Interesting people show up."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Nope, you'll see for yourself." With a wicked grin, the damn Ventrue took Triss's hand, and over toward one of the couches in the back. Not much light there, good for a couple vampires who didn't want to be bothered.

Triss sighed, sat down, and looked over at the bartender. A woman, heavy, strong, and she cleaned some glasses as she watched more people come in. Apparently they knew Jen, to just let her in. Girl probably fucked with the bartender's mind, a bit of the ole Dominate; harmless. Jen was pretty damn strong, too, for a vampire her age.

"Cloak me too," Jen said. Shrugging, Triss touched her leg and wrapped her in Obfuscate as well. People would see them on the couch, but not really see them. Perfect for vamps hunting humans, and eavesdropping.

It took a few more minutes for the place to calm down, for the chatting to die out, and for the rustling to stop. The few lights in the place turned off, putting Triss and Jen in absolute dark, with only the people closer to the stage getting any of the light.

Someone came onto the stage, some dude, but the lighting didn't do a very good job showing who it was yet. Like it was part of the song, the build up, the fiddling with the lighting by someone offstage, and the tuning of the guitar by whoever just sat down on a stool in front of the mic.

People smoked. People drank, quietly, sipping their wines and shit, no beers. More than a few people were high, judging from the smell. But honestly, everyone was pretty damn chill, happy to be there, and happy to shut up and wait for whoever was on the stage to entertain them. Some of them wore jeans. Hell, a few of them wore t-shirts. Triss was still using Face in the Crowd, so she didn't give a shit about her jeans, tank top, and army boots. Jen wore a casual suit, and Triss expected more of the kine to be wearing suits like that too, or nightclub dresses, but nope, just a bunch of jeans, and a few eclectic tops and jewelry and stuff.

Yeap, this was the sort of place Julias would have liked. Full of introspection and self reflection, full of hippies going on soul journeys. Much as Triss loved her man, this sorta crap really irked her. Probably cause it was her impulse to respond to self reflection with a healthy dose of anger and bitterness.

Triss looked at Jen, glared, and mouthed 'well?' Jen grinned at her, and nodded toward the stage.

The lights finished turning on, and a very, very handsome man raised his face toward the mic. A white dude, with dreamy blue eyes, but they were hard, almost betraying their color. No beard, but he had a bit of dark gruff on his face, and dark hair so short it looked almost buzzed. He was a little tall, and muscular and lean. He wore some navy jeans too, and wore a black button shirt with a couple buttons undone.

That, was Sándor.

Triss stared at the man as he took a deep breath, adjusted an ear peace that was probably playing a metronome or something, and set his pick against the strings. Sándor, with a guitar. She knew the dude liked metal music, and that was pretty awesome, but he didn't say anything about playing an instrument. Embarrassed, maybe? Not so embarrassed the super antisocial gargoyle wouldn't play live in front of a bunch of hippies who were likley music and poetry snobs.

"Hello again," he said, voice soft, and deep. "I lost someone important to me, a couple weeks ago." The crowd aww'd. Triss clenched. "Well, maybe important isn't the right word. She was someone who... who'd been holding a lot responsibility, and a lot of dreams. Those dreams are dead now, and those responsibilities are mine." He looked down, and Triss wasn't sure if the somber, hard look on his face was sexy, or stupid.

Oh god, was he going to play a super emo song? Some sort of 'my life sucks my family is dead everything is horrible life isn't worth living' kinda song? Please no, she was just starting to like the guy.

"I thought about playing something about that, something that fit, something... mournful, or regretful." If he played Hurt, Triss was going to kill him. She loved the song, but she could only stomach so much misplaced guilt. "But she wouldn't want that. She'd probably hit me for thinking it, if she was alive. She's gone, and she wanted her family to get on without her. That was her goal. So, I'm going to play a few of my favorite songs, instead."

He strummed the first chord, and picked the first few notes. The world stopped. The crowd sucked in a breath, before they settled into their seats, ready to go on a familiar, amazing journey. They knew the song. She knew the song. Anyone with fucking ears knew the song.

"On a dark, desert highway. Cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air."

Triss froze, down to the fucking bone. She knew her mouth was open a little, and that Jen was looking at her, confused. Triss didn't care. Girl probably didn't even know the song. Damn kids these days.

She couldn't look away from the man. His picking was perfect, but that was to be expected. If a paranormal learned to play an instrument, they had decades to master it, and from the way he held the guitar, she knew he had. It was easy to picture it, now that she could literally see it. Sándor, in a chair at home, picking away, practicing the hours away. A gargoyle with time to spend.

But it was his voice that ripped her to pieces. He sounded good. He sounded great. He sounded like fucking Bob Seger.

"Triss," Jen whispered, "you--"

Triss punched Jen in the leg, softly, but kept her eyes on Sándor.

He didn't play some sappy song about regret or sadness. He didn't have to. It was on his voice. And god damn it, she wanted to hate it, to hate him for it. She didn't want to hear anguish or heartache or grief. She didn't want to hear the misery in his voice. But she did, just hints of it, little slivers of the man's past and soul coming through in his tone, as he sang about something completely different.

Ok, yeah, this was a lot better than him singing a sad song. This was perfect. This was too damn perfect. Butterflies flew around in her stomach, and she did her best to ignore them.

She melted back on the couch, and watched, and listened to the man charm the whole fucking crowd. Everyone was quiet. In any other place, people would have been cheering; which woulda been weird cause Sándor didn't put any energy into his body. He was reserved, solid, steady, and only his voice and his fingers showed emotion. But it was enough. To anyone who actually gave a shit about music, it was enough.

No one else in the bar knew the dude lost his family to a bunch of hunters, and then became the hunters' slave. None of them knew the dude had a wife and kid that he loved, dead. None of them knew the dude was hundreds of years old, and that family was the first good thing to happen to him in a long fucking time. None of them knew the dude blamed himself for more deaths, including Julias's.

Triss knew, and she could hear it in his voice. It fucking hurt, like fire on the skin. But she couldn't look away, and the butterflies multiplied.