My Little Ventrue Pt. 10 Ch. 06

"A dexterity exercise. Dude I'm not a kid."

"No, but you are undead. You said you've never played an instrument?"

"Yeah."

He nodded as he looked down at the keys, brow slightly furrowed. His thinking face.

"You need to learn the same way a child does."

"Well fuck me."

That earned another small smile from him, short lived though as he went back into thinking mode.

"Your vampire brain doesn't know how to work your fingers in the right way. I'm confident you understand music, and you can tap your finger to a rhythm." He gestured to her, and she demonstrated, easily pressing one of the keys in a moderately fast rhythm. She even hummed a bit of Megadeth with it. "So maybe the problem is lower down in your brain. Using individual fingers to press individual keys."

Slowly, Beatrice did as told. Thumb, then index, then middle, then ring, then pinky finger. It did not go well. The electric piano was set to sound like a real piano, volume sensitivity included, so it was blatantly apparent when she hit some keys too hard and some too soft.

"Ugh, I hate this." She started over, thumb, then index, then--

"Go from left to right, then right to left. Only hit your thumb and pinky down once. Like this." He played the pattern, pressing keys in order from thumb to pinky and then back to thumb, playing the three keys in the middle twice each.

Grumbling, she tried again. And like she'd run her head into a brick fucking wall, it did not happen. She couldn't go backward, at all, not unless she reset her fingers first.

"I fucking hate you."

Sándor froze for a moment. "I'm sorry I--"

"Not you. My hand! Listen to me you fucker!" She lifted the stupid thing and glared at her fingers and their claws, before slamming them down on the piano. At least she had enough control to ease up before she hit the keys. Hard enough the sound made everyone jerk a bit. Soft enough she didn't shatter the piano.

"I think," Mary said, raising a hand. But her mom pulled it back down before she could say anything. Not fast enough for Triss to not notice though, and throw a harsh glare back at the giggling woman. Maybe giving the ghost a body was a bad idea.

Sándor made one of those tiny smiles again, and set his hand on the keys, near hers.

"Slowly," he said, voice doing that thing it did where it got quiet and deep.

She took a peek at him, and he took a peek at her. Any other guy would've just looked away and back down at the piano, but Sándor did this thing where he looked straight into your damn soul. Blue eyes. She wasn't sure if the man was going out of his way to make eye contact with her, or if he lacked the usual tick people had to avoid too much eye contact. Maybe it was because he was a gargoyle, and sitting there staring at shit was a part of who he was.

So she looked away first, ignored Jen's knowing glance, and got back to trying to make her fingers work. Mary and Sam didn't notice the shared gaze, thank god. They kept laughing as they brought up some website to check up on their living friends' life updates, and they commented rapid fire on it. Who was getting married, who got divorced, who got pregnant. It was enough to make Triss's eyes roll like it was their job.

But god damn, it was nice to hear Sam laugh like that.

Triss looked up from the piano to Sándor, but the man wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking at Mary and Sam, listening to them. His face was doing that stoic gargoyle thing, no emotion there, pure neutrality, but his eyes were only a foot from Triss's, and she could see more. So much more, like looking into a fucking ocean.

His phone rang. He checked.

"A message from Jack. Business."

"Business with Jack?" Triss asked.

"Important. I'm sorry, I have to go." The man nodded as he got up and headed for the door. "Feel free to stay, everyone." He nodded to the girls on the couches, and then to Triss. He paused for a moment, just a tiny moment as he looked at her, and then he was gone.

Mary and Sam looked up from their laptop to the door, and then back to Triss.

"That was kinda cold of him," Mary said.

Triss shook her head as she tried to play the pattern again. "Nah. Well, I mean, I guess, but it's not cold for Sándor. That's just who the dude is."

"A lot of men like that in Dolareido," Jen said, looking over her phone to everyone. "The sheriff, of course. And Eric and Damien are pretty reserved, too. That said, they've both had sex at Bloodlust."

Mary perked up. "They have!?"

"Not with each other."

"Oh."

Triss turned around on the piano bench to face the gossiping bitches three. "Jessy's to blame." Might as well join them. "She corrupted Fiona. Fiona and Jessy corrupted Eric. Then Fiona moved on and corrupted Damien, carrying the disease from host to host." Seeing the tiny redhead on his lap, riding him despite being utterly drained and exhausted, and thoroughly spanked, was pretty damn hot. Triss didn't really care for spanking, but that didn't mean it wasn't insanely hot seeing a little, big-titted chick like Fiona cum her brains out from it. Or watching Sam enjoy it, either.

Jennifer chuckled as she nodded. "Daniel might as well be a stone, however."

Samantha giggled and sat up a little straighter to look between everyone. "A little birdie told me Daniel was having sex at Bloodlust too, with Athalia."

Jen blinked at Sam like she'd just shot her. "Public sex? The sheriff?"

"Yeah."

"What else did Natasha say?"

"W-What? I didn't... say it was Natasha."

Jennifer laughed and shrugged. "Come now, who else would tell you such a thing?"

"The Prince might!"

"Would you ever refer to your sire as a little birdie?"

Sam sighed and slumped, earning a sideways hug from her daughter.

"No."

Jennifer leaned back in her sofa chair and gently tapped her chin with her phone as she looked up.

"The sheriff is a gorgeous man, in that tall serial killer sort of way."

Mary choked on a laugh. "Serial killers are hot?"

"To women of an age, absolutely. I'm sure your mother has watched many movies where she's found herself drawn to the killer." Shrugging like it was the most obvious thing, Jen looked back down to her phone and got to scrolling.

Sam however, squirmed and inched away from her daughter, only for Mary to pull her back in the sideways hug.

"Mom! What's wrong with you!?"

"Honey, it's not true! Jen's exaggerating."

"I know that look, Mom! Liar."

As the two women erupted into the most ridiculous argument Triss had ever heard, Jen grinned and winked at her. It wasn't a wink about Mary and Sam. It was about Triss, and Sándor.

Triss shook her head. If Sándor was interested in her romantically, he didn't show it. Friends, sure, but not romantically. And that was probably for the best. He was just a calm, quiet, reserved dude who talked to everyone like that.

So Jen sent her a message on her phone. Triss checked. A picture of a dress, the one Jen planned for her to wear to the ball tomorrow. The damn woman was going to play the game again, try and seduce Sándor like he was some sort of trophy to be earned. Damn hilarious, and impossible. Triss chuckled as she shrugged, put the phone away, and got back to trying to get her stupid mother fucking fingers to dance on the piano keys.

She wasn't flirting with Sándor. Jacob had made a good point, and she knew it was in her best interest to listen to the damn bastard. What kind of fucking idiot would she have to be, to flirt with another man while trying to resurrect her lover? What sort of stupid, useless, depraved sack of shit would she have to be?

She was just hanging out with her friends, that was all. If the man thought differently, he wouldn't have bailed the moment Jack called.

Right?

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~~Damien~~

"I can't believe it."

"Believe it," Jack said. "She went out looking for dresses with Mom yesterday."

"Alone?"

"Nah. The sheriff was with her. Plus I think Tash and Jessy went, and Jessy probably dragged Eric along."

Damien nodded as he circled the tear. "I can understand the sheriff going with them. Mary being alive is insane, and he can keep an eye on things."

"Not exactly the best use of his time, but..."

"But we're stumped."

Jack sighed, and circled the tear in the opposite direction of Damien. Deep in the factory basement, it was highly unlikely any kine would find it. But they would find it eventually, unlike the other tears that were extremely well hidden, the ones in the physical world at least. They had to close it somehow.

"I really have no idea," Jack said. "This tear doesn't match the other ones. I mean, I know Black Blood has some tears around the city not on Tash's chart, but they're super old, and as far as Avery and the Begotten know, they're stable. No danger to the Gauntlet, and no unusual amounts of essence flowing through them and stuff. Am I right?"

Sándor nodded. "Yes." And of course, the man stopped there.

"I told Antoinette I'm going to help you, Sándor. When you think shit is about to hit the fan, get me."

Sándor let out the tiniest sigh as he looked back to Jack, but he nodded. "I expected as much."

"Fuck. I'm damn predictable, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"If it's as bad as we think," Damien said, "Jack should probably be there. The sheriff too."

Jack nodded. "And Avery, and Sándor. Damien?"

"You have to ask?"

After a quick laugh, Jack shook his head and shrugged. "Well, I mean, you are a Mekhet. Not exactly meant for straight confrontations."

"No, but I work well when I have someone else to be a distraction."

"I can do that," Jack said.

"Better than anyone I know."

"Dude, what about Jessy?"

Damien laughed. "I suppose she beats everyone for that. I have firsthand experience."

They spent more time circling the tear, and then the area. Mason the Uratha was there, hanging by the door, keeping a lookout for eavesdroppers, and providing any extra information he could. Unfortunately, that was none. The Uratha didn't know why Black Blood made this tear, and they didn't know how it... he, made any of the tears. The joys of being a colossally powerful entity, you got to break the rules the little people thought were immutable.

Damien and Jack parked in front of the tear, and stared at it, both folding their arms across their chests as they peered into it. You couldn't get a good look at the other realm from this side, but anyone who saw it would pretty quickly catch on that it was a tear in the literal air, sitting there, something that could be entered. It also radiated with the strange coldness of death that the Great Below seemed to love.

The other tears, the stable ones that'd apparently been around for years, or centuries, were invisible. Only a Begotten could open one, and according to Fiona, they closed up after being passed through. So they weren't tears at all, but doors. These tears, on the other hand, were very much tears, and the Uratha were terrified of them doing exactly what tears had a nasty habit of doing in anything else. Getting bigger.

"That's objective number three, I suppose," Damien said.

"Eh?" Jack asked.

"Closing the tears."

"Ah, right. Yeah, we're pretty fucked if we can't figure that out. I mean, I suppose we could start an azlu farm, and make them work for us." He grinned at Damien and Sándor, and shifted his weight back and forth from the tips of his toes to their heels.

A distant snort announced Mason's disdain for the idea.

"We stop the ritual first," Sándor said. "Then we can worry about closing off the tears."

"I know," Jack said. "Just trying to lighten the mood." He grinned as he quickly checked his phone, weight still shifting back and forth on his feet.

The Begotten nodded. "You're a lot happier than... than the young man I first met."

Damien opened his mouth, but said nothing. Where was the gargoyle going with this?

"The curse was driving me insane at the time, literally. Plus Angela was... yeah."

Sándor shook his head. "I meant, you seem even happier now."

"You mea--oh, because of Mary. You have no idea how happy I am, man. And how happy Mom is."

Sándor nodded, a tiny hint of a smile showing through. And then a frown. Damien raised a brow as he watched the man, but as soon as Sándor noticed, he seamlessly returned to his statue stance, standing some ten feet away and leaning back against the dirty factory wall. It was all old concrete down here, covered in dust and dirt, announcing how many decades it'd been since anyone had touched the decrepit building.

Such was Dolareido's history. The industry boom came and went, and the city evolved into a sort of Las Vegas clone. Or rather, half of it did. It was a big city, and lots of neighborhoods were far from the more sinful areas, quiet and calm neighborhoods like Jack's family's. The other half of the city built skyscrapers and embraced the advancements of technology, and sexuality along with it.

It still irked him sometimes. But even Maria found preaching against sexuality was a holdover from ancient ideas.

"I am glad your sister is alive again," Sándor said eventually.

"But," Jack said, "you're worried it won't last."

The Begotten slowly looked down and away. "I don't know. I see no reason to think Mary's not fine. I haven't checked her dreams yet, though."

"Let's... save that, 'til after the ball?"

"The ball?" Damien asked. "Why?"

Jack shrugged. "If there is something wrong with her, it can wait until after the ball to find out."

"Uh, if we can find out if your sister is--"

"No." The kid dismissed him with a small wave of the hand. "It can wait, ok? She seems fine, and we always have someone watching her. On the off chance there is something wrong with her, it can wait. She deserves it, and Mom deserves it. Besides, we're busy."

After a few heavy seconds of silence, Damien and Sándor nodded, but it was clear what was happening. The kid was avoiding a potentially very painful dose of reality. It was probably clear to Jack, too.

"Very well," Sándor said.

Time for a topic change.

"Daniel's last attempt to break the spell on Amanda's mind failed," Damien said. "Though he's pretty convinced it was Black Blood's doing."

Jack's shoulders slumped. "Which... fucking sucks."

"More than we thought?"

"Black Blood and Jacob have done some fucked up shit, I'm sure. The Prince tells me as much. But neither have ever been direct enemies before, you know? If they're the ones that tricked the Carthians and Invictus into fighting, that pushes them over the line."

"Ah," Damien said, looking down. "Yeah, I guess... I hadn't really thought of them as anything other than enemies for a while."

"Well I haven't." Jack groaned as he looked up at the ceiling beams. "They saved our lives before, you know. Fuck me, am I the only one that doesn't default to assuming everyone is an enemy?"

Damien shook his head. "At this point, I think you should change that stance, Jack. It's going to get you killed. It's going to get other people killed."

Jack opened his mouth, and closed it. And the following few heavy seconds of silence were a hundred times worse than the ones before.

"Sorry," Damien said. "That was mean."

"Yeah, it was, but honest, and that's why we're friends, man." After a slow breath, Jack looked back to the tear, watched it for a few moments, and looked back to Sándor. "How are we keeping an eye on that tear you think is going to be important?"

"Mark does quick visits, very quick. Athalia and Vrallar'trakla aren't... sneaky enough, to risk it."

Damien smiled. He said Fiona's Horror's name smoothly, no stutter or hesitation. Damien still couldn't do that.

"Aren't sneaky enough?" Jack asked. "They're both, like, super darkness nightmare types, right? Jesus, how dangerous is that place?"

"It's below where you've seen of the Great Below. There are ghosts there that... have been sculpted by the land, and their memories. Some are small, some are large, many are violent."

Damien raised a finger. "Shaped by land and memories?"

"Deeper into that realm, I've found rivers of flowing black ice, and bridges made of bone. As always, it appears to be wrapped in a giant cave, but deeper in, the cave seems to be larger. Infinitely larger. Some ghosts, if that is what they are, fly through the darkness and fog, serpentine and dragon-like. Some crawl like spiders, and hide in the darker places. It's... almost like the spirit realm, except instead of being shaped by its sister realm, it's shaped by the minds of its inhabitants, their memories and emotions." He frowned as he looked down. "Mind is probably the wrong word. You... You saw what Mary was like, when she was a ghost."

Jack shuddered. "I did. And if the ghosts down there get warped and shaped by their memories, that is... pretty fucked up. I imagine a lot of those ghosts are angry about dying."

"Yes. Very. I avoided them on my few visits, but it was close. Mark is much better at avoiding things than I."

"Smart," Damien said. "But that means we can't keep a vigil on the tear."

"Correct. Mark will continue risking a quick visit now and then, but it is a dangerous and draining journey. We've seen strange markings carved into the ground around the tear."

"Still don't know where the tear goes?" Damien asked.

"No. I believe it goes deeper, but... I'm pretty sure if I go through, I would die. Or something like dying."

Damien and Jack both shivered, this time. All this realm stuff didn't sit well with vampires. Uratha were comfortable with the idea that every thing in the physical world had a reflection on the spirit world. Dream monsters were comfortable with that realm, and dream realms, and other realms too. Vampires very much preferred to keep their feet on the ground, the physical one, made of asphalt.

But apparently some of the tears were cutting into realms even the Begotten refused to visit, and that was a scary thought.

"Okay," Jack said, "I guess you should keep checking it out. The moment you think something is about to happen, let us know. I doubt whatever ritual Black Blood starts there will be done instantly. There should be a window of time to catch him in the act. Hopefully."

"And if we miss that window?" Damien asked.

"Then I guess we're fucked."

They all sighed, even Sándor.

"Okay," Jack said, "we need a happier topic. The ball. Fiona going?"

"She is. And she's very excited to show off her new dress. She didn't have much money in Scotland, or much access to... Dolareido-friendly attire."

"Well, tell her I look forward to seeing her in it."

Damien squinted his eyes at Jack. "I will. Should I heavily imply to her that you also want to see her breasts in said dress?"

Jack laughed and shrugged. "I mean, sure? I bet half the people at the ball will be thinking the same about Antoinette."

"Antoinette is an ancient vampire. Fiona is a young, innocent flower."

That was too much, and the two of them burst into laughter again.

They made for the door, nodding to Mason as they approached, but Jack stopped and looked behind him.

"Sándor, we're heading out. Wanna come? I'm waiting on a call from Mom, then we're gonna hang out at Antoinette's tower. But until then, we're free agents."

Damien suppressed his smile. It wasn't long ago Jack would have preferred to not invite someone else to socialize; the kid was just naturally introverted. Maybe he was trying to expand his views, or maybe he was just trying to keep Sándor close, where he was valuable. Honestly, Damien would have preferred it'd just be the two of them hanging out, purely because he was just as introverted as Jack. But Sándor had more than earned a place beside them. Assuming he wanted it, of course. The man seemed to be the most introverted of them all.