Chapter 92

~~Jack~~

Once Jack got back, his mom seemed to have gotten past what was probably a couple solid hours of crying. She’d be miserable, for months, but time healed all wounds and all that crap, so he knew to be patient. Antoinette would know, too.

His mom threw her arms around him when he walked back in, and he had to calm her down. A few pats on her back and some encouraging words did the trick. When he got her back into her seat, he and Antoinette sat down, and spent the rest of the night calmly explaining to her what life would be like as a vampire. They explained the five common blood clans, the five covenants, and the current state of the covenants in Dolareido. They explained some rules, like how Elysium was a no-feeding, no-violence zone, and how the Carthians and Invictus split South Side evenly for feeding.

They explained the Masquerade, and did their best to explain the Danse Macabre, but Jack could see his mom struggled with the idea that vampires were all paranoid, deceitful, manipulative bastards, looking to gain as much power as they could in their immortal lives. He knew Antoinette had already explained some of the physiology basics, but Jack knew they should again. He explained feeding, blood, vitae, avoiding fire and sunlight, torpor and the daily sleep, and the Blush of Life.

And they’d have to explain it again, no doubt. And that was fine. She had all the time in the world now, now that she was safe. In the Elysium Tower, she could learn in safety, and she could grieve in privacy.

Antoinette and Jack ended their lesson with an hour to spare, took her to one of the big, fancy bedrooms Antoinette kept free — for no reason Jack could understand — and helped her settle down.

“You’ll ... be here when I wake up?” she said.

“Well I’ll be on the floor below you, but yeah, in the building.” He smiled down at her, sat on the bed with her, and pat her on the leg. “There’s hundreds of feet of marble, earth, and metal between us and anyone who wants to get into the tower. You...” He looked over his shoulder to Antoinette.

“C’est vrai. Rest, Samantha, and take all the time you need. As your son has said, he has been given time away from his duties, and I am sure he will spend them aiding you with your new life.” The tall Daeva nodded at her childe from over his head, smiling, and Jack mirrored it as he looked back at his mom.

“Oh ... ok ... ok...” She gulped, coughed, and looked around. “All this for me?” A big bed, white silk sheets, big open space, a desk with a mirror and an assortment of makeup kits and whatnot, and a wardrobe filled with robes that would never fit his mom.

Antoinette laughed, before letting the somber weight the night held settle her voice. “All this and far more, Samantha. Now please, rest, and mourn if you feel the need. Tomorrow night, you will have time to spend with your son, and time to grieve. Perhaps, given a few days time, we can go shopping for you?”

“Shopping?”

“For clothes, my dear.”

“Oh ... b-but, I have clothes, at home, and—” She stopped, frowned down at the blankets underneath her, and sighed. “Right, new clothes, new me. That ... that sounds doable, maybe.”

“Alright,” Jack said, “we’re off.”

“You two ... sleep in the same bed?”

Jack winced, but nodded. “Yeah. We love each other, Mom. A lot.”

Nodding, she sighed as she looked down again, and twisted the blankets with her hands. “Can ... can you tell me about that, too? Your relationship? N-Not now, but later? I ... I can’t believe you found a woman, you know? And—”

Jack put up his hands, surrendering. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“G ... Good.” She nodded, but once Jack got up, she snapped her hand out and grabbed his wrist. No words, but she looked at him with the saddest doe eyes he had ever seen on her.

He sat back down, wrapped his arms around her, and stayed there for a minute. “I’m right here, ok? I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

She squeezed him tight, tighter than she probably realized she was doing. Vampire strength was a thing, and it came naturally to Daeva; any harder and she was going to hurt him. But he pat her back, stroked it, and squeezed her in return until she started to settle. Years, so many years, since he’d hugged her like this. When his dad died, it’d never occurred to him that she was looking for someone to lean on, that she needed some support. He was a kid, and she was the parent. Parents were supposed to be self-sufficient, bastions of stability.

Holy fuck, how stupid he’d been.

“Promise?” she said.

“Promise.” He leaned back from her, found her pinky finger, and hooked it with his own. Like old times.

She nodded, let him go, and slowly scooted further back on the bed. She was still in the robe and hospital gown, and Jack doubted she even realized. That’d change, as the insanity of her new life resolved, and she began to process.

“You will sleep all day,” Antoinette said. “Torpor will keep you deep in slumber. Once dusk arrives and you awaken, Jack and I will come for you.” With a bow, the Prince turned and left, and Jack followed after her, offering his mom a small wave as he did. She returned it, smiling at him, and watching him go until he stepped outside her room, and closed her door.

And then he opened it again and stuck his head through. “Oh, this locks. See this big metal bar here? It’d take a freight train collision to break it. Lock it once we’re gone.”

“W-Why?”

“Because shit happens. Kindred lesson 101, be paranoid. This way, you’ll be secure, and you can sleep knowing no one’s going to interfere with your daily rest.”

“Oh. Ok.” Nodding, she got up and came to the door. Before he closed it, he gave her the small wave again, and she returned it, just like he used to when going to bed when he was a kid.

He fell in beside Antoinette, and followed her back to their room. The enormous vault door, and walls easily ten feet thick, meant it was the most difficult room to break into; by conventional means anyway. Could someone like Sándor bust in here? He doubted it, based on what Fiona told him, but the monsters were difficult to predict, or understand. Maybe Sándor would pull a movie monster move, and break out of the cell with some bullshit ability? The sheriff was confident he was trapped, but still.

He closed the vault door behind him, and watched Antoinette as she slipped out of her suit. No sexual display, no flirting or flaunting, no tossing of her hair, no exaggerated swaying of the hips, nothing. She set her clothes aside by the wardrobe at her desk against the wall, reached in, and plucked out a robe. Wrapped in white, she sat down on the bed, upon its foot edge, and watched him.

Sighing, he stripped down to his boxers, and sat beside her. “ ... hey.”

“My love.” She slipped her arm around him, and he reciprocated, sliding in closer until their legs touched, and he could hook his arm around her waist.

They had a bit of time before sunrise, time to sit there, and talk about things. Except he didn’t want to talk about things. He didn’t want to talk about Julias, or the curse. He wanted to bottle it all up, sit on it, and brood. So, by this point, he knew he should talk about them. You can only make the same mistake so many times before you have to learn from it.

“Julias is dead,” he said. “I ... Beatrice and I, we both sort of ... it got pretty heavy for a bit there. We both cried.”

“That ... is saddening, my love, but healthy.”

“Let it out, mourn, grieve, all that?”

“As cliché as it must sound, it is quite true, mon amour.” She rubbed his back a little, and leaned down to put a kiss on his head.

He sighed, nodded, and leaned into her, putting his cheek against the nook of her shoulder and chest. “After that conversation with Triss, I ... I feel so drained, tired. Wrecked.” He looked up at his lover, before hiding his eyes against her robe. “Julias is dead, and I ... I ... just want to forget.”

“You cannot forget.”

“I know, I know. But, fuck, I looked into his eyes when he died, Antoinette. I saw them, and ... and...”

“I have ... had known Julias Mire for far longer than you, my love. If I knew him as well as I believe, then I can only imagine he felt joy, that he could not only spend his last moments with you, but saving your second life.”

“Yeap. That’s exactly what happened. He had that cocky, happy smile on, and ... and ... he died with it on.” Slow, Jack, take it slow. Work through it. “He had a few last words, encouragement for me, and ... things he wanted said to Triss, things I managed to say before she left, earlier tonight. The whole scene at the hospital was ... it was ... fuck, if it’d been anyone else, they’d have either raged or cried at the end. Not Julias. He accepted it, and ... and I knew he was thinking about Triss, right till the end, and...”

Fuck it. He held her tighter, and let some sobs come up. He didn’t want to cry anymore; honestly, he was getting sick of it. Cried over Mary, then the next night, cried over Julias with Beatrice. Now, same night, crying again. He was emotionally exhausted.

A minute later, the sobs passed, and he pulled his head away from Antoinette’s robe.

“Sorry,” he said, “for ... not wanting to spend the rest of the night sputtering sobs, I guess? I’m just too tired.”

She nodded, and pet his head a few times before she scooted back further onto the bed. “Come, lie with me. I wish to hold you.”

And there was that. In all the chaos and insanity, he’d almost forgotten about this part, about how, while Julias died and left Triss alone, he’d also almost died, and almost left Antoinette alone. Selfish of him, to forget that. And, kind of selfish of Julias, to leave Beatrice like he did. Selfish and selfless.

Jack slid into bed with her, and curled up, facing away, knowing she’d definitely want to be the big spoon tonight. She was a foot taller than him, so the big spoon came naturally to her, but they didn’t always go that way. This time, he knew she’d want to, because he fucked up, almost died, and ... and put her through what Beatrice was going through.

Sure enough, she pulled the blanket up to their shoulders, turned to face him, and pulled him into her. She pressed her body to his back, held him close, and set her cheek against the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he said.

“For?”

“Almost dying. Almost ... yeah.”

“It ... would have been devastating, I cannot lie.” She sighed, a knowing sigh. “There are many things we should speak of.” She was too smart. All the thoughts he’d taken a day to process, to realize, she’d probably thought of immediately. Julias’s death, Jack’s curse, his Masquerade violation, Sándor’s capture, his mom’s embrace, and the fallout of everything related to those five things, she’d probably made a list of in her head and gone through them and the hundreds of connected variables already. Him, he was still struggling with accepting the five things as reality, let alone calculating possible outcomes from the fallout.

“I think I can talk now,” he said.

“Bien. What did the Invictus bestow upon you as punishment for violating the Masquerade?”

He managed a small chuckle. “Nothing. They’re ... they’re pretty broken up about Julias, too. And they understood the extenuating circumstances. I have to take time trying to figure out this curse, before I’m allowed to return to work.”

“Then Maria and Michael have grown wiser, since they arrived in my city so many decades ago.” She squeezed him a little harder for a moment, and kissed his ear once. “The circumstances were extreme, and the loss, far worse. They know better than to damage a valuable asset, or harm a dear ally, such as yourself.”

“A tactical decision, then.”

“No.” She squeezed yet again, and nudged her cheek against his head. “Well, perhaps. They are Invictus, after all. But I believe they are not the soulless manipulators they pass themselves off to be. They care about the Invictus, and its Kindred.”

“It’s hard to imagine Maria being emotional about things. And Michael, I expect would sooner throw a punch.” His turn to sigh. “But that’s not really what you want to talk about, is it?”

“No, I suppose it is not.”

His sigh turned into a groan, but he knew it was coming. “The curse, the thing, I assume Daniel filled you in on what I told him?”

“Oui, but ... I must hear it from you.”

Yeah, that was understandable. He really, fucking really didn’t want to, but it was the least he could do.

“Maria and Michael said it was the Strix, when I described the dream.” That earned a hard freeze from her, and her grip on him tightened. “Striges, or whatever. They ... infected me, or my ancestor, a woman, my great great grandsire. A Sanctified sealed it away, locked the curse behind some sort of spell. And over the centuries, it wore away, and I managed to break it. I ... I guess I’d been trying to break it ever since Angela first hurt me.” He turned around, and faced her. Her eyes were wider, staring at him as if he might turn into ash in her hands. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I ... I am sorry, my love, but—”

“I’m still me, Antoinette. The thing, it’s there, but it’s ... it’s no different than the Beast we all deal with.” Not true. Now it could speak to him. Now, it had desires that extended beyond the typical hunger and animal aggression of a mindless beast. Now, it wanted revenge, with the sick joy of a psychotic killer. “Ok, it’s not the same. It’s different, but it’s not different in that it’s not me, but a separate thing, same as your Beast. It’s hungry, and angry, and it’s...” He closed his eyes and pushed in closer, setting his forehead to her sternum. “It’s fucking terrifying, but it also helped me, saved my life, captured Sándor, killed three hunters, and...”

The elder Daeva shivered for a moment, and clutched him tighter still, almost hurting him as she squeezed.

“I ... am frightened, my love. Of all the possibilities, I had not thought something as grandiose, or horrible, could be lurking within you.”

He wrapped his arm around her, the other underneath him on the bed, and he held her close as well.

“It seems ... unreal, doesn’t it? People dying, that feels real, like a hard punch to the gut. But this ... thing ... it doesn’t feel real. Feels more like a fairy tale, something out of a book.”

“It was quite real, my love. The crows, the blood and carnage, the ... personality ... that emerged.” More shivers worked through her, and she loosened her grip on him enough so she could lean back and look down at him. “The weight of death, murder, family, bullets and knives, money and blood, we contend with these every day. They are easy for us to understand, to grasp, and combat. But we are also creatures of the night, of fantasy and nightmares. The fantastical, and the horrific, we must also concern ourselves with. As easy as it may be to dismiss this curse as ... less real, than the death of your sister or sire, I urge you to reconsider. I have dealt with entities beyond our understanding before, and ... and the wake of destruction they can leave, is far too real.”

He nodded, and she leaned back in to hold him tight against her. She was right, of course. Julias and Mary’s death felt like serrated blades in his gut. Memories of Angela, and the way she and Jeremiah had tortured him, felt like hot pokers being dragged down his spine. This curse, lurking in his heart, waiting to pounce, was almost too insane to believe.

But it was real, and it wasn’t going away.

~~Damien~~

“Hey Damien!”

Damien got up from his seat on the roof, and walked over to the fire escape on the side of the building. He held out his hand, and Fiona took it, pulling herself up and joining him.

“Hey.”

“What’re we doing up ‘ere?”

“Wanted to update you, in private.”

She raised a brow, and wandered around the rooftop, hands behind the small of her back against her brown, leather jacket. “Update? So ... not a date?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. How had he not seen that coming? He really was a dumbass, as Jessy said.

“Update tonight, date another night?” he said. There was maybe ninety minutes before sunrise, and he wouldn’t waste them on a date, even if he really, really wanted to.

“Ugh, fine!” She bounced over to him and beamed up at him. “What happened? No one’s told us anything, but we ken something’s going on.”

Sighing, he nodded toward the building edge. He sat down, legs dangling off, and she joined him, sitting beside him. It was a twenty-story building, and beside them was a giant, bright neon sign that read ‘Dips and Curves’. A hotel, and brothel. Men — and some women — came to stay the night, usually with a partner they brought, but sometimes they acquired a partner at the hotel itself. It had a strip club, a bar, a supposedly reputable buffet, and many other amenities that made Damien laugh thinking about them.

Lucas would have hated it, how the building encouraged a casual view of sins. Compared with the shit getting shoveled Damien’s way these past few months, it seemed too petty a concern.

“Julias is dead.”

“Julias, Jack’s sire?”

“Yeah.”

“I ... how?”

“Angela and her group attacked the hospital last night, to try and capture Jack’s mother. Jack was there, with Julias. They saved her, fought off the hunters, killed a few of them, and even captured Sándor, but Julias died in the fight.” Three sentences to summarize what must have been an utterly horrific experience for his friend. Three sentences didn’t do it justice.

“The crows!” Fiona pat him on the leg, several times, each basically a slap, an exclamation point for her waves of surprise. “I saw on the news! And it’s aw over the internet.”

Wincing, he nodded, and looked down at the tiny woman beside him. “That was Jack.”

“ ... really? Wee Jack?”

“Yeah, really. He awoke some sort of curse inside him, far as he can tell, something ancient and a part of his bloodline. It ... snapped, when Julias died, broke free, and Jack summoned an army of crows.” Damien shivered as he remembered the sky, the thousands upon thousands of crows that descended from above, and the hundred or more that had killed themselves in order to break a few windows. “It was terrifying, and awe-inspiring. I thought, for a moment, that perhaps I was witnessing a biblical event, something out of the Old Testament.”

“I was in my lair, sleeping, recovering from yer Kiss.” She managed a smile for him when she said Kiss, but it faded quickly. “Jack, he ... he must be feeling horrible. What happened to his maw?”

“The Prince turned her, and brought her back to the tower.”

“Yay!” Fiona bounced in place a few times, butt hitting the rooftop edge. “Oh, oh, so she’s Daeva now! I bet she’ll be fun ... once ... she gets over her wee one dying.”

“I think it’ll be a little while before we can see Samantha. A little while longer, before she feels comfortable enough to ... socialize, with other paranormals. I suggest being a little more ... um...”

“What?” Her smile returned, and quickly became a mischievous grin, with a hint of ‘I dare you to insult me’.

“Less aggressive with her, than you are with others.”

Her grin only grew wider. Wham. She threw herself at him, a full on tackle; impressive, considering she was sitting down. But she managed to get some weight into it, and it was enough to send him onto his back.

“I am nah aggressive!” she said, even as she crawled onto him, and straddled his waist. His legs were still dangling off the building edge, and it was a far enough drop to give any Kindred pause. If Fiona fell, would she survive, die instantly, or swing away like Spider-Man?

Of course that’s where his mind went, not to the fact the beautiful woman was straddling him, and grinning down at him. An ingrained reflex, to always look for the negatives, when a positive was set on his lap.

“I ... I uh ... um ... I—”

Groaning, she rolled her eyes, leaned down, and kissed him. “I’m glad yer fine,” she said without ever lifting her lips, half burying the words.

“I—” Ok, talking wasn’t going to work. In fact, she seemed quite insistent on not letting him talk. The gorgeous little woman pressed herself down on him, squashed her jacket and breasts to his suit jacket and chest, and her hands found his. She guided them, set them on her hips, and smiled into her kiss as she continued.

She knew how to kiss. He didn’t. He felt wholly inadequate to be a part of this exchange. But, God, it felt nice. Her lips were so warm, and soft, and—

“Ye were injured!” she said, pulling her head off of him at last. “In the tunnel, ye were injured, but ye still went to help Jack?”

“Maria wanted me to. And ... I mean, yeah. He’s my friend.”

Fiona squealed, and started kissing him again. “So brave!” Giggling unendingly, she rubbed her nose on his a few times, and made sure to push her chest down on his, so there was no question about the feminine softness hidden in her jacket. “Did ye like my picture?”

“I ... haven’t been able to stop looking at it.”

He almost gasped as the fiery redhead blushed, deeply at that.

“Sorry if I’m being aw ... ye know ... slutty.” With more giggles, she stood up, and helped pull him to standing. “I can’t help it! I get aw ... tingly, when things gie scary.”

“Fear junkie,” he said, managing to put a touch of sarcasm on his inflection. It wasn’t easy, bantering like this, but she definitely made it easier. She made everything feel easier, even as he felt a hundred walls throw themselves up in his brain, trying to stop him from just giving into the joy, the giggles, the fun.

“Well I am a creature of nightmares!”

“Does Vrall get tingles from being scared?”

“No. She’s different.” Shaking her head, Fiona took his hand, and walked him toward the fire escape. “Come on, let’s go have fun!” Fun came with some very blatant eyebrow wiggling.

And, as much as it would have been so easy to simply follow her, let her pull him along into a journey of what was bound to be endless sexual fun, he resisted. He planted his feet, and she came to a stop, despite her continuous attempts to pull. He didn’t invite her up here for sex, or a date, or any of that. He invited her up here because he was worried about her, and he wanted to make sure she knew what was happening.

There was no greater killjoy in his life, than himself.

“Fiona.”

“What? Come on.”

“Fiona, I ... want to talk.”

She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Why?” He gave a small tug, and she had to come back onto the middle of the roof to not fall over. “Because you don’t seem to want to.”

“I dinnae understand.”

“We nearly died in that tunnel, Fiona. Julias died that same night. Jack’s got some sort of curse doing only Lord knows what. Hunters are everywhere. And ... and I nearly killed you.” Much as he knew his words carried weight, they didn’t seem to land. They bounced off the tiny redhead, as if she were impervious to all the worries in the world. Considering how quickly she recovered from getting drained of half her blood, maybe she was.

“And?”

“ ... and? Come on Fiona, I’m worried you’re not—”

“Nae taking things seriously? Dinnae ken what’s going on?” Her smile faded, replaced with a far more serious frown than he’d ever seen on her. Uh oh.

“I—”

“Damien! Ye dinnae ... ye’re the one that doesnae understand. Ye vampires are so concerned with tomorrow, ye never enjoy today.”

Well, that was true. That was very true, he supposed, and he was one of the worst offenders. Fifty years hiding in sewers could do that to a man. It was paranoia well deserved, though, even if it meant interrupting what obviously could have been a very enjoyable night.

“But I—”

“No! Shut up!” She stomped her foot, and Damien took a step back. “Ye’re dumb!”

“I ... I’m afraid I have to agree. I am pretty dumb, and—”

“No! No no no no no!” She stomped around a few more times, before she marched up to him, and punched him in the shoulder. “Ye’re supposed to protect me!”

“I ... what?”

“I’m the princess! Ye’re supposed to protect me, and be both sexy and caring, but also dark and scary and mysterious. Ye’re supposed to scoop me up, guard me from this horrible world, and fuck me as you do!”

Wow. Ok, confused did not begin to describe his state of mind. “I don’t know if I’m the guy to—”

She grabbed his hands, and started pulling again, but this time she started pulling him toward the rooftop entrance, a locked door. “I’ll have ye know, I think about those things, about the hunters, and Jeremiah, and how Angela is hurting my friends, and how the Prince and the others dinnae really want us here, and all sorts of stuff!” A spidery silhouette erupted from around her back, and Damien flinched as the eight limbs of shadow slammed into the door, piercing the metal. A moment later, she yanked it open, and it banged against the rooftop entrance protrusion.

“I ... I don’t think it was locked.”

“Shh!” She glared at him, but didn’t let go of his hand, as she dragged him down into the hotel. The roof entrance showed a stairway, one that led down to another door. A passage used by staff only, probably. A light flickered, not doing the best job lighting the rarely used stairway. “This will work.”

“Fiona, I—”

She snapped her hand out, and again the silhouette of the spider woman appeared around her. How their monster abilities worked outside the nightmare realm, he didn’t understand. It wasn’t like she was carrying around her horror half in a physical sense; otherwise Sándor would have weighed several tons, at least, and carrying him out of the hospital would have been impossible for him. But, they were able to summon up their physical forms in a limited, specific sense, like Fiona stabbing with her spider legs momentarily. What other strange things could they do? Sándor had penetrated Eric’s dreams once, attacked him there, turned it into a nightmare. If the gargoyle horror could do it there, could the man tied up in the Prince’s cell do it as well?

Fiona’s snap shattered the light bulb overhead, and drowned them in darkness. “Close the door behind ye.”

He did, and regretted it. Complete, total, one-hundred percent darkness. Kindred eyes were good, but not that good.

“Damien,” she said, “ye Kindred are all stupid dobbers! Do ye nae ever consider the moment? Ye’re all so concerned with the future, ye never enjoy the present.”

“It’s hard to enjoy the present when you know the future is going to get you killed, Fiona.”

“Pfft.” She snorted, and pulled him down the stairs. Without light to go by, she went slow, but still faster than he’d like, and he almost stumbled down the hard stairs multiple times. “Why dinnae ye do it for me?”

“What?” he said to the darkness.

“Do it for me? Ye’re so focused on the future, but ye never see the things in front of ye. It’s like ye’re afraid of ... of being happy for once, ye ken?”

“I—” He froze as he felt his boot land on something soft. The air turned humid, hot, and it blanketed him in sweltering heat; no concern or real discomfort to a vampire, but it was startling nonetheless. Still pitch black, but now he could feel mud start to overwhelm his boots, branches hit his suit, and moisture soak through into his clothes. He knew where they were.

“You’re always so worried about the future,” she said, except her voice had changed. No longer was she the cute little redhead, but something else instead. “And it’s more than that. You always observe, never participate. You’re always on the outside, Damien, watching. It’s as if, you never consider that maybe, you could have a piece of what others are having, as if the pleasures others find in each other, is not something you’re ... allowed to have.”

“I ... guess I got used to that. Fifty years of hiding is a long time. And ... and when I was finally done, it all sort of fell apart.”

“But it’s not like that anymore. You don’t have to be so paranoid that everything you touch is going to fall apart. Especially me.”

“You say that so easily, but—” And then he was upside down.

Only now, as he dangled upside down and was lifted higher, did some light manage to pierce through the canopy above them. What light found him confirmed his suspicions, and he gasped as he watched the branches, leaves, vines, and moisture droplets of the jungle pass by. There were creatures as well, the sort you’d expect to find in a jungle, though attempts to see them proved borderline futile. And considering it was a jungle of darkness, he doubted he wanted to. Centipedes were probably the least frightening thing this jungle held within its endless shadows.

Higher, and higher they went, until the floor was gone, and only branches remained, giant and layered with dark vines. The moonlight punctured the canopy better up here, but the trees were tall and taller still, burying him in shadow, with only several beams of moonlight able to reach him. Enough to see by, enough to look around, and realize he wasn’t moving up anymore.