Chapter 93

~~Natasha~~

She stood there in front of Sándor, frowning, arms folded across her chest, and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Antoinette stood beside her. A thrall was busy cleaning of the prisoner’s body; it was a human body after all, and it did things human bodies did. Pooping, peeing, all the nasty realities of trying to keep a dangerous person prisoner. The horror stories prisoners of war shared were never fun reads.

“Still unresponsive,” Antoinette said, sighing. “The mark on his back also remains. Whatever Elen meant when she said it healed too quickly, little Vola, it does not appear to be on a time scale useful to us.”

Jack stepped around and looked at the mark, while Daniel stood further back in the room. Natasha’s sire was responsible for Sándor, for making sure the man was kept alive, and that each day a thrall cleaned the man’s waste while under the sheriff’s protection. They were using intravenous nutrition for Sándor as well, since he didn’t seem to respond to attempts to feed him. The man was basically a comatose patient, a dangerous comatose patient.

“I might be able to break through into his mind,” Jack said, “if I use you-know-what. I’m pretty sure it would tear Sándor’s mind apart though. We could get a little info, maybe a lot of info, but we ... I’d be turning this man into an invalid in the process.”

“I d-d-don’t ... like that idea,” Natasha said. “And, t-tactically, it might not be worth it. He m-might not know much, and ... and if we can break him out of whatever’s happened t-to him, he’d b-be a valuable ally.”

Antoinette smiled down at her, nodding. Natasha beamed. Thinking in terms of strategy, cold and logical, was a skill Natasha excelled at, when she could separate herself from the reality of her circumstance. Easy to do when playing chess, not so easy to do when making choices that affected people’s lives. But it was a skill, learning to think like a strategist in the middle of real chaos. With time, she’d master it, like her boss and sire had.

She doubted she’d ever arrive at a point where she could capture a prisoner, hold them hostage in such painful restraints, and interrogate them, possibly with torture. But there was no doubt in her mind that the Prince and the sheriff had likely done exactly that in their very, very long lifetimes. Maybe in a few centuries, she’d be capable of that too? Scary.

“I agree, my student. Jack, unless circumstances become dire, I would not ask you to take such a risk.” Antoinette stepped aside to let her thrall walk past with the soiled cleaning cloths. Far as Tash knew, this particular thrall was basically not leaving the tower until the hunters were gone, for safety reasons. And for all they knew, Sándor might have found a way to affect the thrall’s mind without them knowing. “But you missed another reason, Vola.”

“Oh?”

The Prince nodded toward the little Ventrue. “We do not understand the curse Jack Terry suffers. It brings power to bear, but I will not risk his life, or threaten my city with its insane aggression and volatility.”

“R-Right.” It was easy to forget that Jack was carrying some sort of curse inside him, and that it wasn’t him that was so strong; or at least not just him. The boy was formidable without the curse, she was sure, but there was no denying his insane spurts of rage and power must have been caused by the curse. If he called upon it, what would happen? Would it devour him? Maybe Jack would fade away over the years, and become someone none of them knew, or wanted to know?

Poor Antoinette. Those fears must be eating away at her all hours of the night.

“Daniel will learn more from the Begotten with time,” the Prince said. “Silence will only bring so much protection, from the eyes of a Mekhet.” With that, she left, and the three of them followed after her, leaving Sándor in the darkness, still bound in chains, still with his eyes covered. It must have been agonizing to be stuck like that, but they couldn’t take any risks.

Once the door was closed behind them, they stopped and faced each other.

“I understand you and old friends are heading off?” Antoinette said to her.

“Yep. W-We’re going to ... spend a little time, remembering Julias.” It was due. She didn’t want to do it, because it was going to be painful, and she was bound to cry her eyes out, but it was due.

“I suspect I will need to take Samantha hunting in a few days. Her Beast will be content with stored blood for only so long.”

“Should I come with?” Jack said.

“Non. Leave this to her sire, my love. There is an art to feeding that is ... specific, to women, and Daeva especially.”

Natasha smiled at that. If there was anyone that could teach Samantha how to hunt for a mark with the seductive tools of a Kindred, and a woman, it was Antoinette. She was in good hands. Not that Tash had gotten to spend much time with Samantha in the few days since her arrival, meeting her only a few times. She seemed nice though, maybe too nice.

It was hard to think of Samantha as anything other than a broken woman, a mourning mother, a widow, and a terrified fledgling. Antoinette could see more, no doubt, and Tash trusted her judgment. If Tash guessed right, Samantha would soon find herself buried in male kine. It wasn’t a topic Tash could broach with Jack right there, but Samantha was a very attractive woman, cute, and carried some of that older woman sexiness.

“Specific to women?” Jack said, before cringing and throwing his hands up around his head. “Oh god, you just put images in my head. Why? Why would you do that?”

Antoinette laughed, walked over to the small man, and kissed him on the forehead. “My love, surely you knew this would happen. Samantha is Daeva, and you know my views on sexuality. I fully intend to help your mother embrace her ... inner goddess, as the fledglings say these modern days.”

Tash choked on a laugh. Inner goddess, oh god.

Natasha, Jessy, and Jack all walked into Jack’s apartment together. It looked like Julias’s old apartment, fancy and sleek, cold colors, steel and black and stuff. Jack called it his American Psycho apartment. It’d changed since her last visit too. He had paintings on the walls, more of them, and new ones too. He definitely had a thing for Gothic motifs, and also some macabre stuff like skulls and bones, but he also had some rather sexy looking ... ghosts? Pale women in corsets who were partly see-through. A few sexy witches. A few sexy ... reaper things, too.

“Dude. Hot.” Jessy walked up to one of the paintings, where a woman with a skull for a head wore an open black robe, showing off a body of similar proportions to Antoinette; absurdly massive breasts that would have spelled eternal back pain for any breathing entity. “Antoinette see you put this stuff up? I mean, I like, but I’m getting some cheesy sexist nerd vibes.”

Laughing, Jack sat down on his couch and shrugged. “She’s the one that gave me the idea.”

“I suppose she’d encourage you to put sexy things up, considering who she is.”

“And,” Jack added, “she’s big into fashion, including costumes. I’ve seen her wear some stuff that makes these pictures look tame.”

“Daaamn.” With a chuckle, Jessy sat down next to him, while Tash sat across from them on the other couch, a glass table between them.

“The Prince does wear ... uh ... extremely r-revealing things. And d-d-does ... extremely revealing ... things.” Natasha nodded, doing her best to say those things without changing her tone, or letting Jack notice her fidgeting gaze. Fail. He noticed her glance, she noticed his, and she shrank into the couch.

“Dude, you banging the Prince out in the open where Tash can see?” Jessy bounced on the couch a few times, before holding up her hand. “High five.”

With a groan, Jack acknowledged and acquiesced her request, hard enough for a slap sound too.

“The Prince is one of the most romantic people I know,” he said, “but her views on sex are less romantic. She thinks of it more like performance art, an expression of beauty and grace, and skill. I’m sure Tash has seen me naked, doing things to her, and her me, on several occasions by now.”

Jessy blinked, before slowly sliding her gaze to Tash with a big, evil grin. “So Tash has seen you naked.”

“Probably. Probably more.”

“You seen her naked?”

“What? No.” He raised a brow as he looked Tash’s way, managing a isn’t-Jessy-a-bitch eyeroll, before smiling. “She keeps her sexual exploits private.”

“I d-do!” she said, glaring at Jessy.

Of course, her friend didn’t get the hint, or more likely, chose to ignore it.

“You should have seen the things Tash did to my ghouls when—”

“N-No! No no, no no no, no t-talking about that.” Tash buried her hands in her face for a few seconds, did her best to regain some composure, and set them back down again. “Aren’t we here to ... to t-talk about Julias?”

“Honestly?” Jack said. “Julias would prefer we talk about each other, and goof around, and laugh, and ... and be happy, you know? Last thing he’d want is for us to cry over him.”

“Well I d-did cry!” she said.

Jessy held up her hand. “Me too.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sighing, Jack got up, walked around a counter-top, and stepped into his kitchen. A moment later he returned with some glasses and a bottle of blood. “I felt it when he died. Like, not just emotionally, but physically. Felt an ache I couldn’t explain.”

“Sire childe connection,” Jessy said, “supposedly. I ... my sire’s still alive. So’s Tash’s, so I guess we wouldn’t know. But you hear it from other vamps, that you can tell if your sire is still alive, or at least when they die. And vice versa.”

Nodding, Tash took a glass, and Jack filled it. “I can’t imagine w-what you’re going through, Jack. It ... it makes me feel like I should try and ... t-talk to Vivi more.”

Jack shook his head. “You won’t be able to rebuild that bridge forcefully, Tash. I’d tell her you want to talk more, and let her come to you. It might take years, or decades; hell it might never happen. But Vivienne isn’t much older than me, and my gut would tell me to back off if Mom had suddenly started trying to be buddy buddy with me. It ... it took a crisis to mend that connection.”

“Is it mended?” Jessy said.

“I think so. Mom’s spent most of her nights crying, and I’ve sat with her a few times, held her, just ... been there for her. We’ve talked about memories, cried over Mary, and I let her lean on me when she broke down several more times. Poor woman has been through fucking hell, and—”

The Gangrel shook her head. “Jack, you’ve been through hell too. Who you leaning on?”

“Antoinette’s been there for me, don’t worry. I’ve leaned and cried on her shoulder a bit too. Though I can tell she’s a little ... nervous, I guess? She saw me, when I was ... not me, at the hospital.”

“Can ... can you t-tell us m-m-more, about it?” Natasha said.

“Rumors are spreading like wildfire.” Jessy scooped up her glass, downed the contents, and poured herself another. So much for letting the host handle that. Her rudeness was a welcomed familiarity at the moment, though. “Everyone’s heard about the cursed Ventrue. I hear whispers and shit from the fledglings, neonates, hell even the ancilla, about Jack the cursed Ventrue who summoned an army of crows, an army of rats, survived the hunters thrice, and even survived Tony, Viktor, and Lucas.”

Tash flinched, and looked to Jack. Jack’s eyes were downcast, staring into his drink as he sipped at it.

“I killed Lucas, Jessy,” he said. Holy shit. Tash froze, eyes flicking between the two of them. “I killed Viktor and Tony, too. Though, that was mostly luck. Managed to set the building on fire, and caught them in it. Lucas though? I possessed Damien, Dominated him, and I cut his sire’s head off.”

Wow. Wow. Um. Wow. Silence fell, and Natasha and Jessy looked between each other and the small man. How had such a young Kindred been involved in so much? Lucas’s death was already a massive deal, but to know two other elders died at his hands, was insane.

“You fucking with me?” Jessy said, putting her glass down and staring at him.

“No.”

“Jesus fucking christ, Jack. Why you telling me now?”

“Because I ... I don’t trust myself, not completely, not anymore. I need you two to know what happened. People are right to whisper about me. I’m dangerous, and ... fuck, that sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” He chuckled, a heavy, dark sound, and took a sip of his drink. “You know what I’m going to ask for.”

Snarling, Jessy downed her glass again, got up, and started pacing. “You want Tash and me to keep an eye on you, maybe take you down if shit goes horrible.”

“ ... yeah.” He shook his head again, but didn’t look at the Gangrel, or Natasha. “Damien was with the Prince when they found me at the hospital, and I can remember it clearly, how he was ready to pull his blade on me. I want you two to be ready to do the same.”

“We ... w-w-we’re not going t-to kill you, Jack,” Tash said.

“And I’m not so depressed as to hope you do, Tash. Capture if you can, you know? I know there’s a ritual out there that can reseal this curse, and if it takes a hundred years for someone to find it, that’s fine. Just stake me until someone’s got it ready. But I need someone to be ready to do that.”

“Stake you?” Jessy said. “Easy. Dealing with Maria if she finds out about Lucas? Not so easy.”

The boy nodded some more, and walked over to the window. He pulled open the curtain, and stared out over the city heights, the colorful lights striking the glass in his hand. From the back, in his suit, Tash could practically see Julias’s silhouette over the boy. How many times had Julias stared out his huge window at the city, glass of blood in his hand? She’d seen him do it hundreds of times, and who knows how many times he’d done it in private, contemplating, worrying.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Groaning, Jessy joined him, and put her jeans and ass against the window. “Course you shouldn’t have. Ugh, I hate knowing things I don’t want to know. How am I supposed to talk to Maria now?”

“Maria ... m-might ... might forgive you, Jack.” Maybe. Based on Tash’s conversation with her, it was clear the woman was trying to get over some emotional issues involving Lucas. “Have you t-talked to Damien about it?”

“Yes and no. I’ve mostly been hoping the secret would fade and die with the years. Long time ago, Jacob insisted Maria and Michael would kill me, if they knew Viktor and Tony died at my hands. But, after the last meeting I had with them ... I don’t think they would. They trust me now, as much as an elder can trust any subordinate. Except now this curse thing changes everything, and ... ugh.” He rubbed his buzzed head in that way that he did, walked back over to the table in front of Tash, and poured himself another glass. “I’m sorry, I’ve ruined this night. We were supposed to talk about Julias, and—”

“Nah, you ain’t ruined shit.” Jessy came back over, flopped on the couch, and smiled out at the window, curtain still pulled aside so they could admire the city lights. “Kinda put a damper on things, with all this curse worrying, but I’ll bring it back. Tash has seen you naked, and I’ve seen Tash naked, but—”

Jack put a hand on Jessy’s mouth. “No. Bad Gangrel.”

Snorting on a surprise laugh, Natasha started coughing as she struggled to not spill her drink. “How about ... w-when did you meet Julias?”

“That is a very boring story, actually. I met Julias when I was doing an internship with a law firm.” That made sense, she supposed. Jack was a logical person, like her. Unlike her, he was surprisingly good at talking, when he needed to be. “I called out some people older than me about some holes in their contracts. Julias was there. Must have been doing something for Xnomina. He overheard, and I guess he was impressed that I was willing to argue with people fifteen years my senior.” The boy smiled to himself, nodded, and leaned back on the couch. “He involved me in negotiating some contracts, for some random business deals between subsidiaries. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was analyzing me.”

“Well,” Jessy said, “kid your age working smart shit like law work, arguing with people much older than you? Sounds like Ventrue material.” She poured herself another glass, half of the bottle gone already and mostly to her, before she raised a hand. A story was coming to her, no doubt. “I was in the Invictus from day one, cause of Michael. But I was just a brawler, with no direction or anything. Fighting and fucking was all I knew.”

“Julias help you?” Jack said.

“You mean, help me come into the fold? Nah, I handled that shit on my own. Once we got to know each other, we started going to bars together, playing wingman for each other.” She leaned back on the couch, and let her head hang over the back. “I tried to get into his pants a few times, but it never went anywhere. He made it clear he didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Which pissed me off, but it was the right call, in the end.”

Laughing quietly, Tash sipped and leaned back as well. “Julias really ... b-brought out the b-best in people. Helped p-p-people grow.”

“That he did,” Jack said. “Beatrice would agree, more than anyone. I almost invited her, but ... yeah, that wouldn’t go well.”

“Yeah,” Jessy said. “Fuck, I feel so bad for her. Real good thing they had going, and it’s gone, and—” Tash sniffed, and sobbed. “Aw Tash, I’m sorry.”

“No, n-no, it’s ok. It’s ... fine. It’s hard to imagine my second life without him, but B-Beatrice, she...”

Jack leaned forward, and set his elbows on his knees. “She’ll probably do everything she can to get revenge. I’ve been aching to kill Angela, and while it’s a relief to know the strange rage issues I was having were because of this curse ... hopefully, Beatrice is probably aching to kill Angela even more than I ever did. She’s ... she’ll ... she’ll be sinking deep into that Crúac shit, talking to Jacob and stuff.”

“When Minerva died,” Jessy said, “everyone assumed Jacob was doing everything in his power to revive her. He disappeared for months at a time. We had a string of kine disappearances. There was creepy weather and other crap. Rumors about some weird ghost things — probably Black Blood — were going around, too.”

Tash remembered those. There was a night where a bunch of rats flowed up from the sewers. Another night, it snowed, in late Spring. Dolareido rarely even had snow in the dead of winter. Another night, for a whole month, it was super super windy, and the city swore there were voices on the wind. People eventually figured it was just the unusual wind speed hitting the buildings at just the right way to howl.

“P-Poor Jacob,” she said. “Minerva is still d-dead though.”

“Jacob once asked me to see if Avery would tell me why she killed Minerva, like, get specifics. She won’t give them. It must be eating Jacob up. And I’m sure my sire’s death is eating Beatrice up, too. She ... she’s going to do something.”

Everyone nodded. Yeah, she was. Beatrice probably felt like she had nothing left to lose anymore, after losing Julias, and to someone like a witch, that was an invitation to go down a dark path.

Memories of a ripped-open body dangling on a hook over a giant, sacrificial bowl flitted through Tash’s mind.

“D ... d-do you think she’ll ... I don’t know. I found her, with Jacob and Jennifer once,” Natasha said. “Matt, Art, and I, w-we found them ... d-doing things, in one of Jacob’s lairs. Scary things. I ... I wouldn’t be surprised if Beatrice crossed some lines, t-to ... to try and get Julias back.”

Jack shook his head. “If Minerva’s dead, then what hope does Beatrice have?”

“No fucking idea,” Jessy said, “but yeah, I agree, Triss is the sort of girl who would do some dangerous shit, to get him back.”

“Then, keep an eye on her,” Jack said. “Keep an eye on her, and me, and Jacob, and ... Maria, I guess.”

“Her too?” Grumbling, Jessy folded her arms on her chest and squirmed on the couch. “Because she might find out you killed Lucas?”

“N-No,” Tash said. “Because there’s ... a p-possibility she’s trying to revive him.”

The Gangrel threw her hands up. “No one’s been revived! Any of you know anyone, or know anyone who knows anyone, who’s ever even heard of a successful resurrection? Why’re we suddenly concerned about this?”

“A feeling in my guts,” Jack said. “Something’s going to happen. I ... I can’t say more. I don’t want to involve you two in things you don’t need to be involved in. But something’s going on in the city, something bigger than the hunters. It might have something to do with Jacob, or Maria, I don’t know, but ... keep an eye open, ok?”

Something else? Natasha looked at the small man, and he met her gaze. There wasn’t only confidence in his gaze, but an awareness, knowledge, a look of wisdom and intelligence that no man his age should have carried. It was frightening.

“ ... ok.”

~~Antoinette~~

The first seven nights since her embrace, Samantha spent alone, other than visits from her child. Jack and Antoinette both knew to give her her space, and while she enjoyed and embraced her son’s company, there were many moments where she wanted to be alone. Through the laptop Antoinette gave her, the woman was able to watch the news, monitor the changing of life now that hers was gone, and indulge her misery. A part of the grieving process, to be sure. Antoinette had a thrall monitor the laptop, to make sure her new childe did not attempt to contact anyone; a gross violation of privacy, but a necessary one for now.

Samantha did not attempt to contact anyone. As Antoinette predicted, she found videos of her two children, school events and such, and spent several days weeping over the imagery. Some of that time she spent with Jack, and while she attempted to spend time with Antoinette as well, the elder kept interactions with her childe moderately short. It was better to let Samantha grieve on her own for now, and with Jack’s shoulder to lean on, not her own.

But after seven nights, Samantha was ready to take her first steps in her new life. Or rather, Antoinette recognized the signs of her Beast’s hunger, no longer satisfied with bottled, cooled blood. It wanted to hunt, and to sink its teeth into living flesh. Antoinette had no choice but to oblige it, lest Samantha suffer a frenzy, and that was the last thing the poor woman needed to suffer at the moment.

“You ... know my measurements?” she said, eyes wide as she gazed upon the clothes before her.

“Oui.”

“But I never gave them to you.”

“I have indulged in fashion since before you grandmother was born, Samantha. I could accurately guess your weight, if you wish for me to prove my skill.”

“Um ... n-no thanks.” She smiled as she said it though, the first smile the woman had made over a humorous comment.

The two of them stood in her primary fashion room, where rows upon rows upon rows of clothing were to be found. Antoinette stored much here, fashions from ages past, fashions from ages only to recently meet the runway, and fashions that stood the test of time. Clothes were held for Natasha as well, though Antoinette had yet to truly indulge her fashion vice with the little Mekhet.

“Come, explore. I have purchased eighty-seven different ensembles you may try. Skilled as I am, doubtless only a third of them will fit properly, but we can have them tailored to adjust.” Nodding, she held out a hand to her little Daeva on her stool.

Samantha gulped, reached out, and took her hand. Slowly, with delicate precision, Antoinette pulled her along into the sea of coat racks, wardrobes, and vanity sets. Hundreds of thousands of American dollars, spent on something as meaningless as fabric; a true indulgent sin for any Daeva.

At the moment, Antoinette was dressed in one of her robes, black, with plenty of skin showing. She often wore such clothes for the enjoyment of it, or to drive her little lover wild, but tonight it served a different purpose: sparking Samantha’s interest in fashion. It was an enjoyable tool, fashion, to prepare oneself for the hunt.

Samantha wore a white robe, with no skin showing. It was thick, fluffy, and comfortable, perfect for someone tending to a wounded soul.

The small woman looked Antoinette up and down several times as she sat on a stool. She had yet to see this side of her sire, and was no doubt surprised at Antoinette’s rather tall physique being on display. Combined with her white hair and red eyes, it made the elder’s unusual body all the more blatant.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said.

Antoinette smiled at the small woman. “Why thank you my childe. Though I hope you realize, you are quite the attractive little creature yourself.”

“I don’t ... I don’t know. Really?”

“You were preparing yourself for the hunt before the madness occurred, were you not? For a man? Your son noticed that you had lost weight, and were taking better care of yourself.”

She sat up straight, eyes widening, trapped in disbelief. “He noticed?”

“I would have hesitated to sire you, Samantha, if you had not done so. An eternity is a terribly long time to spend with a body you do not like. Trust me, you have done well, and any man — or woman — will be delighted to slip between your thighs.”

“A-Antoinette! I ... I haven’t thought about things like that in a long time. At least, not so brazenly!”

Antoinette chuckled, and motioned for the woman to one of the racks of clothes, filled with outfits for her new childe. “One of the few joys of your second life, Samantha, is your ability to indulge and enjoy sex in ways you could not before. Pregnancy and diseases are things of the past. So too are societal judgments. If you wish to fornicate only rarely, that is your choice, but you and I both know sex is most entertaining, and addicting. And in our night society, many Kindred, of whatever sex or gender best describes them, indulge in sexual delights beyond imagining.” Maybe a little more context, something a little more tactile? “I have two ghouls, young women, that I both feed from, and share with your son, both for food, and for when we are in the mood to indulge our sexual cravings.”

She brought her hands up to her cheeks, as if trying to hide the blush that did not come, eyes widening to the extreme. This woman was quite sincere, genuine, and delightful, to the point of almost being drôle. It did earn a chuckle, and a giggle, from the Prince.

“My son ... I...”

“I am sorry if that was too much, my childe. But, I felt it necessary to paint the reality thick with color for you. If you wished to bring three man back to a nest for the night, strangers, lonely widows, virgin youths, or dangerous wanderers, no Kindred would think less of you for it.” Antoinette fished through the clothes, and withdrew a dress meant for a night club. A black skirt of latex, only barely long enough to cover the buttocks, and a top that was nothing more than a glorified bikini top with a few extra straps, but triangle fronts that would barely cover the nipples.

“I can’t wear that! It ... it doesn’t even have underwear!”

“You could wear a thong with it, if you desired, but many of the garments here are meant to be worn without. Sex is much easier to have, if all you need to do is lift your skirt, or slip it aside.” She withdrew another outfit, a long skirt black dress, a classic that any woman should own. The skirt was split up past the thigh and hip, and the dress’s front had small, loose traps that would do a poor job of hiding the breasts.

“Prince! Maybe we should ... look for something a little ... more tame, for my first night out?”

Antoinette sighed, drawing out the sound in a very deliberate way, emphasizing her disappointment. A game, of course, only meant to tease her new childe. While her heart broke for the pain Samantha was dealing with, setting that misery aside and focusing on the pleasures her new life offered her was proving all sorts of fun for her sire.

“You are Daeva, Samantha Terry, free to indulge and feed your ego and your vices. You are beautiful, and can bend kine to your whim with only a few words.” Nodding, she set the black dress upon the childe’s shoulder. “Did you shave as I recommended?”

“Yes.” She squirmed a little, reached down, and rubbed at her ankle under the hem of the robe. “I mean, I know ‘shaved’ is in-fashion these days,” she said, air quoting ‘shaved’ with the same mannerism as her son, “but it looks a little strange on me. I’m old and—”

“Do not be ridiculous. I sired you at a ripe age, Samantha. Men everywhere will refer to you ... as a ... milf, dare I use such a ridiculous term. A woman such as yourself, dressed in clothes obviously meant to lure hungry eyes, only to reveal smooth skin to wandering fingers? You will not need to use a Kindred discipline to seduce your target. They will throw themselves at you eagerly.”

The poor woman squirmed with every word, and Antoinette chuckled once again. Oh what fun her new childe was.

“Do all Kindred use sex, when hunting for food?”

“At one time or another. While all Kindred, save for the Nosferatu, can openly use sex when hunting, we are the only bloodclan that can persuade kine with such an obvious bias. The Ventrue can use Dominate, to bend and break the minds of kine, and the more skilled, subtle Ventrue could use it to invite kine into their bed.” Julias was such a man, but she dared not utter his name. Mentioning him could send Samantha spiraling, perhaps reminding her of Julias’s sacrifice to save her, or of her daughter’s death. Tonight was to be a night of joy, not pain. “But Daeva can use Majesty, and twist kine around our fingers.”