Chapter 140

~~Damien~~

His leg worked again. Barely, but it did. Tomorrow night, he’d go back to work, helping the Invictus secure their borders and priority locations against Carthian fingers.

But for the moment, he’d enjoy what was left of his free time with his lover.

He eased his hips back, and gently pushed them forward, until every inch of his girth sank into his girlfriend’s trembling body. Once he was snug inside her, he spent a few seconds lightly caressing her ass, before he lifted his hand, and spanked it, earning a weak whimper from Fiona, and a hard clench of her exhausted muscles. They’d been making love for a long time now, and with a belly full of Fiona’s blood, he intended to go for a while yet.

He smiled down at her. Drained of blood, she was barely awake, head turned and resting on her pillow, ass in the air. If not for him holding her hips, she would have fallen over.

They were in her apartment. Her cozy, small, cheap apartment. Thin walls meant the neighbors likely heard the mewls Fiona made; Damien could definitely hear the neighbors, at least. But there was something comely about being with his love in this environment. Cushy, according to Fiona. Quaint, according to Maria. They usually had sex in his apartment, or in her nightmare realm, but they had fun here sometimes as well.

He looked around in the darkness of her apartment; she liked the lights off, which made sense, considering she was a shadow monster. He grinned at the bed, at the bright pink cover, and the various stuffed animals. Most of them had fallen off the bed, but Fiona clutched one now, snuggling into a big brown bear with a trembling arm. He almost felt dirty, fucking her from behind, spanking her, Kissing her, when the apartment made her seem so innocent. She was anything but innocent.

He smiled at the nearby laptop and the cute cat and frog stickers on it. He smiled at the vanity desk and the cute toys she’d arranged on it to look like a family of anthropomorphized animals having a meal around her makeup kit. He smiled at the posters on the walls, some of pop bands, some of cutesy cartoon animals, and one a rather detailed painting of a blue whale and unicorn swimming through the cosmos.

Fiona had the decor sense of an eclectic thirteen-year-old girl.

Chuckling to himself, he gently eased his length out of her squeezing, drenched insides, until only the head of his cock remained inside her, before he slowly pushed back into her yet again. No need to rush things. He’d cum once already, she’d cum half a dozen times, and their inhuman bodies would let them go for as long as they wished. He felt like giving her body a break, and letting her recover before he’d build her up to another onslaught.

He spent a few moments caressing her large ass cheeks, fingertips teasing along her pinked skin from earlier spanks, before he gave her ass another slap. Instant pleasure. The exhausted woman mewled, clutched her teddy bear tight, and clenched on his shaft hard. She cracked open her eyes, her left cheek pressed to her pillow, and she managed to peek at him before it closed again as she—

“Damien.”

Damien froze and whipped his head to the side. Every muscle, every fiber, every ounce of vitae and Beastly instinct he had kicked into high gear. Sword? Where? By the door. Leg? Working well enough he could move, and jam vitae through it if he had to. Fiona? Out of commission. She was awake, but only barely, deep in a post-Kiss bliss coma. He ... he knew that voice.

“Athalia?”

“Indeed.”

Slowly, he released the building tension in his body. Fiona turned her head to look toward her closet where the voice was coming from, but otherwise she made no movement. Hell, her eyes were barely open as it was.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Watching you have sex with Fiona, evidently.”

At least it was Athalia’s human voice, and not the raspy voice of her alien, skeletal form. How did she get in Fiona’s closet? She hadn’t been there before. Ah, right, the lair. The Begotten had connected their lairs, and could move swiftly between locations that were attached to those lairs. Fiona had a door to her lair in her closet; they’d used it before. Athalia had come through it, silent as a ... shadow monster.

He frowned and tried to back away from his lover. Of course, doing that stirred Fiona from her coma, and she pushed her ass toward him, even as she reached behind her and grabbed his hand, her other arm still wrapped around her teddy bear. Her grip was weak, but the point was clear: keep going.

“Did you invite Athalia, Fiona?”

“M ... Maybe.”

He rolled his eyes, and spanked her again. Mistake. Fiona whimpered, and pushed her ass toward him as she clenched. By the Lord, this woman.

Another whisper from the darkness. “Finish up, we can talk after. I’ll wait.”

“I’d prefer—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t spy.”

It wasn’t like Damien wanted to stop, not with a belly full of blood, and with Fiona whimpering for him to keep going. And not just regular blood either, Fiona’s blood. Thinking straight was borderline impossible. The desire, the hunger, it tingled along his skin and buried his mind in fog.

It took only seconds to forget about Athalia, and start fucking his lover again, and this time much harder. For another twenty minutes.

He slipped on his boxers, and threw open the closet door. Athalia stood there, arms folded across her chest, and a strange smile on her face. He knew that smile. That was a mischievous smile. Fiona often used the same one. Seeing it on Athalia was strange though. He figured a stone better capable of the expression, but apparently not.

“You ... spied.”

She chuckled. An even stranger phenomena than her smiling.

“Yes, I did. She seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit, and you seemed enthralled.”

“It’s her blood. It affects me in—”

“Yes yes I know, she’s told me all about it.” Nodding, the tall, dark-skinned woman sat on the side of the bed, reached out, and pat Fiona’s shoulder. She lay under the covers, still snuggling her teddy bear, and had fallen asleep the moment Damien had finished. “She really has absurdly huge tits for a little thing, doesn’t she?”

“It’s enough to make a Mekhet nervous.”

“Huge tits?”

He blinked at her. “Knowing you can show up here and get this close, without me being able to sense you coming.”

She smirked. “Be happy I’m an ally, then.”

He raised a brow, watching her as he put his suit pants on. And she watched him, her cold expression less cold, even appreciative. She liked what she saw.

“What?” she said after a time. “You’re attractive. I can see what Fiona sees in you.”

“I like to think she sees more than just an attractive vampire.”

“Of course. She probably also sees an emo vampire fantasy, too.”

He frowned. She rolled her eyes, and laughed. Who was this woman? This was not the Athalia he remembered, the Athalia that betrayed them during the assault on the hunters all those months ago.

“We love each other.”

“Yes, I know. I’m only kidding.”

“Forgive me if I’m not used to hearing you make jokes.”

Sighing, Athalia shook her head, and gently pat Fiona on the shoulder a few times. “I’ve had time to think about what’s happened. Azamel’s helped me put things in perspective, and ... and things are better. Fiona hasn’t told you?”

“No. She wants to, but she avoids gossiping.”

“That’s good.” She smiled down at her fellow monster, and stroked her shoulder a few times before looking back to him. “Azamel’s taught her well.”

“How ... much longer does she have?”

Athalia frowned, and moved down the bed to sit at the foot of it, by him. “Not long. Her human half is giving up, and so is her Horror. A wound we can’t see, but it’s there, draining her a little bit more every day.”

“I’m surprised she’s lasted this long, then.”

“Yeah. We’re lucky. She’s taught us as much as she can in that time, about how to feed without drawing attention, about how to avoid killing prey, how to balance our hungers. She’s...” She sighed again and shook her head. “Sándor may be powerful, but he’s no teacher or parent.”

Damien sat down beside her. It made him nervous, sitting close to her like this, but it seemed like the thing to do. Athalia was opening up, and that was pretty much a miracle, especially because Damien was part of the reason her daughter was dead.

“I’m surprised,” Athalia continued, “that you’re so rough with Fiona. The spanking? The hard thrusts? Thought the bed was going to break.”

He squirmed. “She insisted. And, I wasn’t lying about her blood. It does something to me, something kine blood doesn’t. But, yes, she um ... really enjoys it rough.” Why switch the topic from Azamel to sex? Well, Athalia was with Azamel a lot. Maybe she was emotionally exhausted, watching her friend and guardian slowly die, and wanted to talk about something more fun. Why talk to him, though? Damien had little to offer in the social skills department.

He was dating a Begotten though. Maybe that was why she wanted to talk to him?

“I can tell you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“I thought you wanted to talk to Fiona,” he lied.

“Partly true. But, I also wanted to talk to you ... about Daniel.”

“The sheriff?”

She nodded, looking down at her legs and rubbing her hands against her jeans. “We ... we...”

“Oh.” He smiled. That was not a development he expected. Sure, people knew Athalia and Daniel were interested in each other, but Athalia was a ‘tough nut to crack’ according to Jessy. Nothing short of divine intervention would help that woman relax, or so Damien had thought.

“I wanted to ask you, about being Mekhet.”

“Being Mekhet? I’m not sure there’s much to tell.”

“Anything’s better than nothing, and that’s all Daniel tells me. Nothing.”

He laughed and brushed his hair along the unshaved side of his head. “It’s hard to answer that question, honestly. I’ve been Mekhet far longer than I’ve been human. That makes it hard to draw comparisons to who I was before. But, I suppose there’s one very ... distinct aspect about Mekhet.”

“Oh?”

“We have trouble coming out of our shell.” He pointed at his temple. “We live in here, and it’s a struggle to turn thoughts and feelings outward, and get them into the body, to be expressed.”

“That applies to any introvert.”

“It’s no mistake that almost all Mekhet are introverts. My sire was an exception, not the rule.” He shrugged. “For Mekhet, it’s stronger. It’s a Beastly instinct, to keep thoughts hidden. It’s ... also a Beastly instinct, to hunt secrets, and information. It’s like candy to any Mekhet.”

“Maybe that’s why that damn man is always trying to learn more about me, even if he doesn’t make it obvious.” She grinned. “I suppose that explains why you fuckers are always spying on people.”

“Not ... always.”

Grin turned to laugh, and she gave him a weak backhand against the shoulder. “Anything else?”

“I suppose if you’re trying to get Daniel to come out of his shell, feed him your blood. Though that’ll lead to a pretty ... extreme result.”

She shivered and looked down again. “That’s not easy to just, do, for some of us.”

“Understandable.” Athalia had a rough history with other paranormals.

“Fiona has ... gone on at length though, about how much she enjoys it, and what comes after.” Athalia gestured to the bed and the sleeping redhead within.

“Of course she has.” That girl. She and Jessy were alike in so many ways.

“And I got to see it for myself.”

“And you accuse Mekhet of spying.”

“Well, after hearing Fiona rave about how good a lover you are, I had to get a peek.” She grinned again. “Nice to see she wasn’t exaggerating.”

“So you dropped by, hoping for said peek?” He managed to keep a straight face, despite the compliment. Barely.

She scrunched up her nose a little and smiled. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t the Athalia of old. Whatever Daniel and her had been up to, it’d done wonders for her.

“Daniel is most definitely not willing to get that aggressive, though. I think he’s ... afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Of hurting me. Not physically, emotionally. Probably thinks getting rough will ... trigger me, I guess.”

He nodded. “You’ve had a rough life.”

“I know. But I’m not looking for gentle, lovey-dovey sex all the time, okay?. Sometimes, sure, but all the time? I’m a grown woman, damn it.” Frowning, she kicked her legs back and forth a little. “I want what Fiona and you have. I want the dumbass to ... to make me feel small in his arms. Small, and helpless, but protected and safe, you know? As he pounds me into a coma.”

“You’re ... being awfully forward with me, about all this.”

“Well, you’re a church boy, right? Think of this as a confession. You’re not allowed to share this with anyone.”

He groaned. That, was smart. She wasn’t exactly confessing her sins, but she was still confiding in him in a similar manner.

“Alright.”

She nodded again. “My daughter ... is gone. It had to happen. Azamel’s helped me accept that, and Daniel’s the first man who’s made me happy in a long time. For the first time in my life, things are looking up. So this whole complaint is stupid, and juvenile, but god damn it, I want the man to be a man, and stop treating me like I’m made of porcelain.”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I want the man to hold me down, choke me a little, pull on my hair, spank me, maybe even tie me up. Is that so much to ask?”

Oh good Lord. Hearing it from her made it sound absolutely filthy, but in truth, it was all things he’d already done with Fiona. Frequently, at that. Filthy was the wrong word. Some women — a lot of women, evidently — liked feeling helpless and meek during sex. Athalia was anything but helpless and meek, same for Fiona, but he knew from experience that, if he took Fiona’s wrists and held her down, she immediately grew aroused.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d enjoy doing that to a woman, until Fiona asked him to. Well, Vrall did, technically.

“I don’t know how to get Daniel to come out of his shell. Your blood would probably work, like I said.”

“I’ll work on that.”

“Other than that, it’s hard to say. It’s not like there’s a one-size-fits-all solution to getting people to come out of their shell. Fiona’s is ... is a unique case. She’s so happy, and radiates joy so powerfully, it’s overwhelming. But truthfully, it was her Horror that told me what Fiona wanted, sexually speaking. Vrall is a little...”

“Wiser?”

He grinned. “I wasn’t going to say it. But Vrall definitely understands things, about people, about Fiona, about me, things I suppose I will too, if you give me a few more centuries learning about them.”

“Vrall won’t be of much help to me. Not like she’ll ever talk to Daniel.”

“Then, all I can do is suggest being honest with the man. He’ll respond best to bluntness.”

“Yeah, but, I’m afraid of ... scaring him off, I guess.”

“Daniel? The man’s been close friends with a succubus for hundreds of years. I’m sure he’s seen debauchery of truly epic scale.”

“Ha! That’s true, isn’t it?”

“I’m certainly no expert on this topic. I think you’d get a far better answer asking the Prince herself.”

“I’d ... rather not deal with the Prince.”

He smiled. “Me neither. Maybe Natasha? She—”

His phone rang. Maria’s ring. He got up and retrieved the phone where he left it on Fiona’s desk. A text message.

~Xnomina is under attack.~

He left Athalia with Fiona. She could explain why Damien left for him, and he trusted her with his girlfriend. Considering who she was, he trusted Athalia with Fiona more than most. They were a family. A very weird family, but a family, and they’d protect each other with their lives.

Maria’s arms had regrown, but she couldn’t use them yet. Avery hadn’t simply torn them off, though that’d been what it looked like. If the werewolf could call upon weird magical fire into her claws, maybe she could do other things to cause other actions to inflict more damage? Whatever she’d done, Maria was taking a long time to heal. She wouldn’t be helping him tonight.

He landed on the roof of the building across from Xnomina. The HQ was on fire, at least, as much as a building of concrete with marble tiling could burn. The contents were the issue. The desks, the tables, the paintings on the walls, the decorative curtains, the chairs, they all burned, visible through shattered windows.

He crouched low and scanned the streets. Kine gathered to watch from a distance, but no cops or firefighters had arrived yet. They’d likely been delayed by the Invictus, and on purpose.

What was the point in this? The Carthians attacking the Invictus headquarters in the middle of the night made no sense. A distraction? He knew Jack was at the Tanvar building, along with Jessy and a few others. If the Carthians wanted Invictus eyes on the Xnomina building instead of the Tanvar building, this would work. The problem was the Masquerade. Vampires could not be caught fighting out in the open, and Xnomina was near the entertainment district. Kine were everywhere.

Damien pulled out his binoculars, and engaged his Auspex. He peeled back the curtain of chaos, and scanned for the Beasts of nearby Kindred, perhaps in the crowd. A sweep over the people below showed several Kindred, young Invictus neonates, staring at the building in horror. Understandable. Most of them had remained relatively peaceful with the Carthians; fist fights and the like in secluded areas hardly qualified as true violence to vampires. Fire, on the other hand, was a very clear statement: we want you dead. No vampire who touched it would survive, barring a miracle.

He used his free hand to dial Gloria Jenning. Thank the Lord, she answered.

“H-Hello!?”

“Miss Jenning, report.”

“Mister Burksen! Thank god, where are you?”

“On the Mardok building.”

“I’m in the bunker! I’ve got a dozen neonates with me.”

The bunker, below Xnomina. She’d be safe there from anything save for a particularly strong, particularly foolhardy elder Kindred, but Damien didn’t sense Garry anywhere. Elder he may be, Damien was confident he’d be able to pierce the man’s Obfuscate with Auspex if he was around. He was no Nos or Mekhet.

“The building won’t burn down. You’re safe in there.”

“I may be, but other Kindred aren’t! Amanda’s up there! But the bunker is locked down and won’t open cause of the fire!”

Shit.

“The fire can’t spread. Not enough things to burn. It’ll pass in an hour. I don’t even know how the upper floors managed to—”

“The Carthians. Gunshots hit the windows from the outside, and then fire rained in. And then some kine and a few Kindred stormed the building, and ... and I ran. We all ran, for the stairs and got to the bunker.”

So, the Carthians had broke the windows, threw fire into the building, and then sent a contingent to rush inside. Dangerous for them, even if they had ghouls doing it. One mistake and one, or all of the Kindred would be dead in flames. Hell, if he was lucky, they’d all be dead.

No, much as he wished otherwise, if Carthians died during this stupid raid, it’d elevate the situation. Even if it was their own stupid fault, it’d intensify the squabbles, the turf war, and Kindred would start outright trying to kill each other. Jack didn’t want that, and now that Damien was trying to rebuild the church in Dolareido, he didn’t want it either. And he didn’t want his friends to get hurt, friends like Jack, and even that damn idiot Jessy.

“Where’s Mister McDonald?” he asked.

“I don’t know!”

“How the fuck did the Carthians rush through the building? Don’t we have defensive measures?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!”

“Either way, stay where you are. I’ll deal with this.” Sighing, Damien turned and—fucking jumped out of his own skin. “Sándor! How did you—”

The man leaned over the roof edge and peered out into the fire. “Athalia dropped me off.”

The damn shadow monster was beyond sneaky, her and Fiona both. They made Mekhet look like stumbling children.

“Leave. Jack told the Begotten to stay out of this.”

“Is that what this is? Problems with the Carthians?”

“You could say that. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Damien blanketed himself in the Cloak of Night, backed up, and made a running leap off the roof. The street wasn’t wide, and reaching the building next to the Xnomina HQ easy enough, even with one leg refusing to work well.

A glance back showed Sándor followed him, jumping across to the next building without issue. Half jump, half fly. This high up, no one would see them, especially not with a nearby fire to watch and film.

And that was the problem. A fire meant kine, with smart phones and whatnot to film the mayhem. The Kindred inside had to be careful. A Masquerade violation meant death for whoever was stupid enough to get caught, especially if that meant getting caught on film. Maybe that’s what the Carthians were hoping for? Put the Invictus in a position where someone might use their Disciplines to escape the flames, get caught on camera, and earn a swift — or not so swift — death at the sheriff’s hands.

“Don’t follow me, Sándor. If Garry finds out you’re here, he—”

“I’m just watching.”

Damien frowned back at the man, but shrugged. As long as he didn’t get involved, he couldn’t make things any worse.

“I need to get into that building.”

“The building’s contents are on fire, Damien.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m wearing a fire retardant trench coat.”

The man didn’t smile, or make a sound. Eerie, how calm and stoic he was, considering a large building was on fire not far away, and outright war was just around the corner.

“If you die, Fiona is going to—”

“I’m not going to die. But I am going to do something, before everything goes to Hell.” Before an Invictus or Carthian made a mistake and broke the Masquerade, if he could help it.

~~Jack~~

He snapped his gaze back down at Kathy. “Hold still. Stay there.” He punched through her consciousness and crushed her Beast beneath his will. It was dangerous to hit her mind so hard, but he didn’t have time for shit anymore.

Jack turned, and glared out the broken window, surrounded by the groaning bodies of thralls, and two paralyzed vampires. On the street, Jessy had switched off, and was doing her best to take on Steve.

“Jessy, get to the shadows!” Christ, if she did anymore crazy transformations, and some random kine got a picture of it, that was it. The Prince would side with the Carthians, and the Invictus would be finished.

Would that be so bad? If something happened to Jack, Antoinette said she’d declare him effectively dead, and keep him in her tower. And—no, he couldn’t just let that happen. The idea of the love of his life killing the people he worked with, and maybe even his friend Jessy, in a great purge, was gut wrenching.

Jessy nodded, still grappling with the other vampire, and threw the two of them into an alley. Better than nothing. But Steve was ancilla, and Daeva. If Jack couldn’t keep tabs on them, there was always a chance Jessy would lose that fight. He had to deal with this shit and deal with it now.

Hella and Joe rolled up toward the Tanvar building, and then into it, glass cutting into them as they tossed and turned. Jack couldn’t watch, eyes still locked on Garry, but at least those two were off the street.

“Garry, the fuck is this?”

The man grinned as he walked forward. The idiot wore no weapons, no armor, just jeans and a black t-shirt, and he licked a fang as he approached the building.

“Knew you were here.”

“Spotted me?”

“Nah. I’ve shared this damn city with your asshole boss since I was just a young vamp. Him, that fucker Viktor, and that bitch Maria. I know how he thinks.”

Jack looked up outside the window. Hard to see black on black, but some subtle motions told him Scully and Mulder were around, and more crows besides. But this part of North Side didn’t have the same crow and rat population of other places like South Side, where they grew fat on the leftovers left by the night life and tourists. If he wanted to summon a legion, their numbers would take time to swell. And he didn’t want another hospital incident anyway.

“So, what, you came here to fight me? I’m trying to keep everyone alive.”

Garry snorted. “You know what, kid? I believe you.” He came closer.

“You ... do?”

“Yeap, I do. Julias was a good man, and now he’s dead. And the white-haired queen, sitting pretty on her fucking throne, would just love it if everyone took it up the ass for her.”

So much for cooperation.

“So, what, you’re here to kill me?”

“Maybe. I’m here to kick your ass. We’ll see if killing is necessary.” He came closer, and Jack took a small step back. Not retreating, just making room for the asshole to hop into the lobby of the building with him. The glass crunched under his combat boots, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

Jack glanced to Hella. As much as Team A, Hella and the kine, were supposed to be guarding the building, and his six, the kine were out of the fight, and Hella was dealing with a Gangrel just as old as her. Joe was supposedly only thirty years embraced, but the bastard was strong. A dumbass, but strong. A big man, bigger than Garry, with a shaved head just like his boss. He had no trouble thrashing Hella around.

Past Garry, Jessy and Steve had vanished, but Jack could hear their yells and grunts of fighting. Behind the elder, Bella had vanished as well. Damn Mekhet. But Ryan’s gun wasn’t firing anymore either. The two were probably engaged, and Mekhet fighting Mekhet was a game of assassins. Whoever spotted the other first usually won. Better for Jack to not draw attention to Ryan’s existence, if the man wasn’t shooting anymore.

Team C were still out of the picture, and if those three cars came back, the fight would quickly swing in the Carthians’ favor. And if Jack reached for his radio right now, there was a good chance Garry would jump him.

Garry. The youngest elder in Dolareido, barely old enough to be an elder. The files on him told a different story. He’d grown up in Dolareido, and even from a young age, gave the Carthians some direction; usually to fight against the First and Second Estate. The issue was, the files on him made one thing abundantly clear: the man was really, really good at fighting. Not smart, but stupid either. Not a good leader, but not a bad leader either. In typical Carthian fashion, his Kindred followed him, listened to him, because he was ‘real’, because he didn’t bother with the Danse Macabre bullshit.

Or he didn’t used to. After the Terra Den maneuver, maybe his covenant thought of him differently? Maybe coming at Jack directly was a chance for Garry to show his covenant that he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty if they went to war, unlike the other elders? Or maybe his ego demanded it?

“Where’re the others?” Jack asked.

“Others?”

“The other Carthians. Intel told me if you idiots really came for the Tanvar building, there’d be a lot more of you.”

The man smirked, and wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckles, like a boxer might after a fight. He had the scars of a street fighter, including a nasty one on his lip, probably from a fist busting it open badly enough to require stitches. Those were things he’d gotten when he’d been kine. Hell, Jessy got into a lot of fist fights when she’d been kine, and she didn’t have a quarter of the scars Garry did.

This dude had been baptized in fire before he’d ever been cursed with his own Beast.

Garry shrugged, and came closer. “Hitting the Xnomina HQ.”

Jack froze.

“You sent Kindred up against Michael? They’ll die.”

The bastard grinned. “If they were trying to take him down, sure. I ain’t Lucas though. Kamikaze? No thanks.”

“Then—”

“Go ask em, if you survive.” And the man came at him.

Without hesitation, Jack reached into his jacket, pulled out two pistols, and unloaded bullets at Garry. A little vampire strength allowed better control of recoil, and he held the trigger down on both pistols. Fully automatic.

Maybe Garry didn’t expect him to be willing to shoot him. Maybe he thought Jack would want a fist fight or something. The man’s eyes widened, and he staggered as a dozen bullets slammed into his chest. Predictably, he wasn’t wearing a vest, vampires never did, and he stumbled back as the metal tore through his shirt and flesh.

But, he was a Gangrel, and an elder. Predictably, he adapted. Before Jack had managed to get through half the magazine, the bullets no longer sank into Garry’s skin. They slammed against his t-shirt, ripping the fabric, but flattening against his hardened body before falling to the floor. Protean.

Jack had never dealt with a Gangrel using their Protean ability. Sure, he’d seen Jessy use it, transforming into animals, or evolving strange, monstrous limbs. It could do other things, too. He’d heard stories about the strange and insane things Michael had done, when putting a stop to a brawl between the Carthians, Jessy, and Eric. But Michael was twice as old as Garry. The younger elder wouldn’t be able to transform into a towering creature straight out of Resident Evil. Would he?