Chapter 141

~~Natasha~~

“Transform.”

“Um, what?” they said together.

She sighed, and shook her head as she gestured around them with her flashlight. They were deep in the tunnels, the old ones. Spooky, scary, utterly terrifying, and dark. But she had her sith sight, and would be able to navigate extreme darkness that even the werewolves wouldn’t be able to see in. That was partly to keep her safe, but mostly to make sure the boys could calm down before they got to the surface, if things went badly.

Long, big, empty tunnels with nothing more than a few big metal crates on wheels on old tracks. Jessy said these old tunnels were like the ones she found in that scary ghost place, and that alone had Natasha’s spine crawling. Big terrifying werewolves on a berserk rampage, she could handle. Ghosts creeping up on her and slithering around in the black? No thanks.

“Tr-Transform.”

Art shook his head. “You mean the Gauru form? Jesus, that why you brought us down here? No way.”

She frowned at him and folded her arms across her chest. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous,” Matt said.

“I know that.”

Sighing, Art squatted down and ran a finger along the tracks. Matt walked past him and gave the cargo crate a shove, but it didn’t move. Everything down here was decrepit and abandoned. A perfect place to make some mistakes.

“Damn, this place is old,” he said.

“D-Don’t change the subject. I told you to transform.”

Art shook his head some more. “Tash, come on, you can’t ask us to just transform at will. Gauru is dangerous, and primal. We’re not Eric. We have trouble controlling ourselves.”

“I know, b-but I need to know I can trust you if I n-need you to transform. And it could happen.”

“Why would it happen?”

“B-Because I’m going to find out what’s going on in this city. I don’t trust Avery to do it. Jack is busy. I’ll d-do it. But I need to know what tools I have at my disposal.” The boys winced. Much as the situation had seemed romantic at first, the reality was they were her tools until her mission was accomplished. “You have to do what I say, remember? If I decide we confront Red Tide or Street-Tail King, then we will. And I n-need to know I can trust you to ... t-to do what I say.” And to not go berserk and maybe attack her.

Growling, Art stood up and looked to Matt, but spoke to her. “This ... isn’t a good idea, Tash. You heard about what Eric did the first time he transformed.”

“You’ve transformed hundreds of times, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but the wolf is ... it’s always there. You vamps know what it’s like, with your Beast. But when we use the Gauru form, it’d be like ... like letting your Beast out, and asking it to cooperate.”

That was a scary idea. The Beast was nothing more than a bundle of instinct and desire. It wanted blood, territory, safety from the sun and fire, and occasionally, to spread the curse of vampirism. When vampires lost the ability to think and feel, when they lost their humanity, they became draugr, mindless slaves to the Beast. It almost never happened in Dolareido, but, sometimes, it did.

“I remember,” she said, “when we were trapped in the t-tunnels, after the azlu surprised us. Remember? You were both in Gauru form, and ... and it was scary. But you calmed down.” She nodded toward Art. “You were under control, and you helped M-Matt get control quickly. I trust you.” And she was fast, damn fast, fast enough to avoid them if she had to. Training with Daniel wasn’t wasted time.

Sighing in unison, the two men stood in front of her, and backed up. Art motioned for her to do the same, and once forty feet separated them, Art and Matt shared glances.

She knew what she was asking was mean, but they also knew what they’d done to her had been a hundred times worse, and they owed her. As far as she could tell from her time with the pack and her boys, they treated the Gauru form like how vampires thought of the Beast. Powerful, useful, dangerous, and existential. A vampire was not a vampire without it, and for the Uratha, their Gauru form was the ultimate expression of the wolf spirit half of them. She was asking them to give her command of it.

But that was the deal. They’d crossed the line tricking and attacking a dragon, and they had to pay up. She tried to frame it that way in her mind, knowing if she made it personal, it could get venomous. Yes, they’d hurt her, physically too, but more so emotionally. No, they didn’t do it for personal reasons, they did it because Avery demanded it. Yes, she was in a position to hurt them back. No, she would not. This was only about doing her job to hunt down the threat.

She loved them.

The two men began the transformation. Clothes disappeared into growing layers of fur, and muscles grew enormous. Limbs grew longer, their frames grew wider, and talons and claws erupted from toes and fingers. She gulped as the two beasts continued to grow, and she found herself taking a small step back. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Art and Matt were both huge. Before, she used to be around them so often, that she got used to how big they were, Art being quite tall and Matt being absolutely massive.

But seeing them transform, it was a powerful reminder that their transformed states were even bigger, bigger than Eric’s transformed state. Matt was the frontliner for the whole pack, and Art was their sideliner. Matt went in first, the pack followed, and Art attacked the prey from the back or side to prevent it from escaping, until the rest of the pack joined in. Both were partly solo roles. Both were werewolves that had to be big and strong enough to take care of themselves in a fight, or maybe take on their prey alone if things went badly.

So, she felt perfectly justified in being quite scared, as she looked the two beasts up and down.

Of course, looking at the two werewolves immediately hit her with memories of Eric and Jessy. She’d imagined, sure, but she had no idea just how primal it’d be, the enormous wolf monster using Jessy like a toy. Her hard abs distended with his shaft’s thickness, showing just how insanely deep he—

She shook her head hard. Maybe if she didn’t have Jessy for a best friend and Antoinette for a boss, she wouldn’t think about sex all the time? But, she did have a horndog for a best friend, and an exhibitionist and sexologist for a boss. Not a night went by in that tower that something sexual didn’t happen. The only reprieve she had from it was when she hung out with her sire.

Tash, mental note: ask your sire how his time with Athalia is going.

“Are you both ... under control?”

They both nodded, slowly, like it was difficult for them to manage. Not a good sign.

“Good.” She came closer, slow steps, like approaching a wild animal. That probably wasn’t smart. She needed to calm down, and not walk like she was approaching a vibration-sensitive bomb. “Can you talk?” She knew they could, but she needed to be sure.

“Yes,” Art said, voice a guttural, quiet bark.

“Yes,” Matt said. Good, she was more worried about her gentle giant than Arturo.

Her gentle giant. She was already thinking about them like that again. God, she was pathetic. No no, that wasn’t fair to her. She just didn’t have it in her to hold a grudge. Maybe she should? No! She was better than that.

She could ask Antoinette about it later. For now, she had to stop thinking about stupid romance crap. This was about work.

With both of them transformed, Arturo must have been almost nine feet tall, and Matthew was taller. Considering she was a little under five feet, it was beyond imposing how huge they were. She had to look up just to see their abs; of course they had abs, because for some reason all werewolves had to look ridiculously sex and fit, even when transformed.

“Squat down for me, p-please.”

They squatted down, all the way down. Flexible.

Nodding, she stood in front and between them, and looked between them. Wolf eyes, dark and aware, on huge wolf faces. Wolf face wasn’t an accurate description though, because their teeth were longer, and snouts a little shorter relatively speaking. They had ridiculous massive shoulders, juggernaut muscles that connected up into titanically thick necks that bulged where their heads leaned forward naturally.

“Can I ... touch?” She might have to touch them after all, if they got into a fight and she had to use them for cover, or maybe climb them, or something.

Matthew looked at Arturo, and Arturo nodded. Matt generally looked to Art when it came to decisions, and it made sense, cause Arturo was a smart, quick-witted guy. But seeing the giant beast still look to his friend to make decisions made her smile. They were still them, even in their war forms.

Tash reached up, and with a shaking hand, touched Arturo’s face, now that it was level with hers. Her fingers found the side of his snout, and she lightly stroked the short fur. Those, were some absolutely massive teeth.

Arturo managed a quiet chuckle, a deep rumbling sound that made her squeak and lift her hand off him.

“We’re in control,” he said. “Won’t hurt you.”

She gulped, nodded, and touched his snout again, and Matt’s as well with her other hand. They were wide behemoths of muscle, and unlike vampires, were very much alive. Each breath they made was deep, their exhales heavy enough she felt the air drift around her. Heat poured off their bodies, warming the cool underground. And this close to her, she could literally hear their heartbeats. Babum. Babum. Drums in their enormous chests.

She touched their arms. Yeap, pure steel, and very warm, under a thin layer of fur. She touched their enormous shoulders, and behind them, where their backs curved forward to connect to their forward-leaning wolf heads. The fur there was longer, fluffier, like a mane. Ears, shorter than wolf ears, but wider. Again, good for fighting, less likely to get caught. She slipped a hand into Matt’s, and gulped as she stared at the enormous thing utterly dwarfing hers. Eric’s hand was big enough to circle most of Jessy’s waist, when he transformed. This hand probably could circle all of Natasha’s, mostly cause she was so much smaller than Jessy, but still.

“Natasha,” Matt said, voice a deep rumble.

“Still in control?” she asked, leaning in closer to the giant’s snout.

“Yes. No hunt. Easy to ... breathe.”

Breathe. That was something she’d heard Jessy say Eric talked about. For some reason the man thought it was important, that he breathe. Meditation, maybe? Whatever it was, both werewolves did it, and she watched their chests and stomachs slowly expanding with each, slow, deep breath.

“Ok, that’s enough for now. Y-You can transform again.”

Matt looked to Art. Art nodded, and transformed. Into a wolf.

She shook her head. “What? No, I meant—”

Matt transformed into a wolf as well. Two wolves stood in front of her, and perfectly in sync, sat down. Like doggies!

“Nooo, you know I can’t resist d-d-dogs!”

Art panted, tongue hanging out, and strode up to her. He nudged his big wolf head into her side, and rubbed his thick furry mane against her hands. Soft! Oh god, so soft. Matt did the same, grinning a big, dopey grin as he rubbed his bigger body against hers, almost knocking her over.

She sighed, but couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Before she knew it, she knelt down and hugged them, and buried her face in their big warm furry necks.

“You know I’m still m-mad, right? You ... you really hurt me. You tricked me. It ... it w-won’t be easy to forget.”

They both whined, doggy whines, and she felt her heart break. That, was cheating.

“But, it’s ok. I understand why you did it.” Funny. It was easier to be direct and honest about things when they were big dogs. Maybe they transformed for that reason? Art was too damn smart.

She sighed again, smiled, and pet their backs and chests as she hid her face in their necks some more.

~~Damien~~

This close to the building, his phone stopped working. No signal. But, he’d been talking to Gloria just minutes ago. He knew the Carthians had some anarchist hacker types, but blocking out communications in an area? Terra Den, had to be, probably trying to cause problems for him and any other Kindred attempting to salvage this mess.

No use in waiting anymore. He jumped through a window.

The Xnomina building didn’t have bulletproof glass except on the top floor, where the big meetings were often held. He jumped in through the third floor, after noticing someone had already put some bullets through it. The glass shattered easily enough, and he landed on foot and knee as he looked around the office room.

Fire greeted him.

No amount of training could ever prepare a vampire for dealing with fire. It radiated heat, unleashed sparks, crackled like a malevolent beast, and licked the air randomly. The heat didn’t exactly bother him; he was undead, and temperature meant little. The issue was the combustion that came with it. One misstep and a wave of flame might hit him and set him ablaze like paper in a fire pit.

Sure, Kindred often got fire retardant clothing, as Damien did, but that didn’t mean anything against a blaze.

“Amanda!” No answer. The roar of the flame wasn’t too large; the building wasn’t on fire, just the furniture and whatnot. But it wasn’t nothing, and he strained his hearing against the noise of the burning furniture and the sprinklers trying to put it out. “Amanda!” Still nothing.

He hugged his coat tight over his head and ran into the hallway. The sprinkler kept the hallway wet, and there wasn’t much in there to burn. Walking through it soaked him; probably a good thing. He growled as he slowly lowered his coat as he walked the hall, hands ready to draw if he needed to. If there were any Carthian kine in the building, he’d deal with them. Jack told him to avoid killing, even the thralls and ghouls, and he would try, but fire limited his options. If he had to cut through a dozen bodies to get to Amanda, he would.

Nothing. He stalked forward through the hall, checking and opening doors for each office. Not all were on fire, but most were. The Carthians must have attacked the building from multiple sides, and thrown in molotovs or incendiary explosives. He found the traces of what could only have been small explosions in many of the rooms.

Molotovs were perfectly reasonable for Carthian thralls and ghouls, but the latter? Some kind of military tech probably. Terra Den’s work. Invictus used to have the technological advantage in any confrontation with the Carthains, but that advantage was slipping away.

This didn’t make any sense. Garry and Michael were trying to bait each other into overstepping themselves, so one covenant would clearly be considered the villain of the war. That’d make it easier to get the Prince on their side, and to rally the Kindred of their own covenant. This attack was like two countries who held an uneasy truce, suddenly having one of their leaders declaring war for no obvious reason. There’d be hidden, and non-obvious reasons, sure, but no obvious one. War was complicated, and the average person was either too stupid to understand or too unwilling to care about details. They needed a big ‘here’s the enemy and here’s why, kill them!’ sign.

With the Mirrden district and the Tanvar building, the Carthians had a reason to get aggressive. It was territory they used to own, and territory that directly affected their half of South Side. If any Carthians died attacking those, the Carthians would rally together, and the Invictus would too. The Invictus would certainly get violent if one of their own died. Both covenants would rally and go to war.

For the Carthians to attack Xnomina obviously painted the Carthians as the aggressors, attacking a building they’d never owned or wanted to own. The Invictus would rally, but maybe half the Carthians would probably think Garry was crazy for attacking it, and probably war hungry.

That was the Danse Macabre, having to trick your own covenant into doing what you wanted it to do. Michael and Garry wanted the war, preferably with the other overstepping, but both were probably willing to start the war on even ground. Attacking the Xnomina HQ was not how to do that.

Unless this was all a distraction? A pretty damn risky distraction, using fire. But effective. Damien was here, and—and so was Isabella.

“Madam Leauvion.” Damien ran across the hall as he saw the woman step into the fire escape stairway. She held the door open for him.

“Mister Burksen. I take it you came here when you learned the building was under attack?” She held a contemptuous smile, dressed in a trench coat of her own, something to protect against the flames.

“Madam Turio sent me.” He looked up and down the stairway. Metal, surrounded by walls of concrete. The air was hot and filled with the smell of burning chemicals and smoke, but none of that bothered a vampire.

“Have you seen Miss Vendram?”

Right, of course she’d be worried about her lover.

“No. I know she wasn’t here, though. Rest assured. Miss Jenning is in the basement bunker, and says the neonates here are down there with her. But, she thinks Miss Pol is still up here.”

“Amanda?” Isabella groaned as she leaned over the metal railing and looked down the spiraling stairs. “She’s in here? Damn. I hope she’s not dead.”

Damien nodded and looked past Isabella up the stairs. But instead of running up them to the next floor where any vampire running from an invading force might go if cut off, he stayed still, and kept Isabella in the corner of his eye.

“How did you know to come?” he asked.

“What?”

“You’re always down in your underground lair with your troupe, mastering your art. How’d you know to come here?”

“Because Mister McDonald contacted me, you damn fool. I still have internet down there.”

“Right.” The phones had been working earlier. “You left your troupe?”

“Yes.”

“Because you thought Miss Vendram might be here.”

“Yes. Why am I justifying myself to you?”

Because every word she said made her seem more suspicious, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Alright. Cover my six. Do you have a weapon?”

“I’m Daeva, Burksen.” She raised a hand and curled a few of her fingers. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Of course. It wasn’t only Ventrue who relished hubris.

“I think we should check each floor for survivors before checking the top floor, and see what Mister McDonald has to say. Assuming he’s still here.”

“Of course. Lead the way, Right Hand.”

He frowned at her and her thinly veiled contempt, but stepped past her and started up the stairs.

And stopped. He turned, and eyed Isabella, earning a raised brow from her.

There was no way she didn’t know Hella was with Jack tonight.

“You knew Hella wasn’t here.”

“Excuse me?”

“You knew Hella wasn’t here. She’s with Jack, defending the Tanvar building.”

She blinked at him, confusion and surprise on her face. But whether they were legitimate, he couldn’t tell. She was a professional actress, and old, older than him, perfectly capable of telling the most convincing lies.

“I’ve been Invictus for a long time, Burksen. We know the drill. Hella was told to keep that information to herself, I’m sure.”

“While you, what?”

“While I spied on Carthian activity. We’ve played this game many times, and know how to keep our work lives out of our personal lives. And besides, McDonald has explained that we share information on a need-to-know basis.” Snarling, she turned and looked down over the railing. “You were there for that meeting.”

“I was. But I also don’t believe for a second that you and Hella wouldn’t have talked to each other regardless. You don’t care for Michael or the Invictus and their rules.” He spread his legs and leaned his weight forward onto the balls of his feet, all slight and hopefully not noticeable. “Which means you knew she wasn’t here. Which means you just lied to me.”

Slowly, her annoyed face shifted into a playful grin, the sort a cat might make before finishing off a terrified mouse.

“You’re right, of course. Silly me, I should have thought of another lie, but I didn’t expect to run into you. Aren’t you still recovering?”

He ground his teeth and glared at her. “I’m healed. That’s why I’m here.”

“I see.” She tapped her fingers on the railing, long nails sending echoes through the stairway of metal. “Your girlfriend’s blood must be quite potent.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He wasn’t fully healed, and if Isabella lunged for him, getting out of the way wouldn’t be easy. It’d been stupid of him to not draw the sword preemptively, and now it sat between his shoulder blades, useless when Isabella, someone perhaps just as fast as him, was six feet away.

“Explain yourself.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m a Right Hand and I demand answers.”

“You’re a church boy. You work for Maria, and she isn’t Invictus anymore.”

“The First and Second Estate remain allies.” The Second Estate basically didn’t exist, and it’d take years for Maria and Damien to get any traction. But they wouldn’t let that stop them. “Regardless, I remain a Right Hand.”

“So you say.” She smiled at him, her typical deadly, sharp smile, and took a step away from him. Back to a wall of concrete, she leaned against it, folded her arms across her chest, and tapped her fingers on her arm. “I am here because a war is about to erupt, and I have no intention of throwing my life away because of the ambitions of a stupid old man.”

Stupid old man, not men? If she’d said men, she’d have meant Garry and Michael, but she didn’t.

“You don’t agree with Michael’s plans for war.”

“Of course not. Do you?”

He winced.

She laughed. “There, you see? We are not so blind as to ignore stupidity when it knocks on our door. It must be dealt with. And right now, that stupidity is the one remaining councilman of the Invictus. Even Viktor, tyrant that he was, attempted to make peace with Garry.”

“Because it served as a better grounds to manipulate, not because he wanted peace.”

“Nonetheless, fake peace is still peace.”

“Then you’re here to kill Michael? I find it highly unlikely you could kill him.”

“In a straight fight, of course not.”

“But ... but if fire is at hand...”

“Then a surprise attack from one of his oldest Kindred, using flame, will lead to a swift death.”

Damien almost reached for his sword, but stopped himself. The step back to the wall she’d made wasn’t her lowering her guard, it was her inviting him to make the first move, leaving himself open.

“You’re telling me quite a bit,” he said.

“Perhaps I don’t think you’ll live to tell anyone.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

“Oh?”

“You’re telling me because, like you said, I’m not so blind that I can ignore stupidity. You’re hoping I’ll help you, because you realize you’ve been put in a dangerous situation. You can’t risk fighting me, and taking a swing at Michael, so you’re trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

Her smile grew. “And? It’s not like Maria holds Michael in particularly high regard.”

“Maybe not, but she wouldn’t throw away her only ally with power either.”

“True. But if Michael died, and we let the Carthians take a more dominant position, there doesn’t need to be a war.” Her smile grew until it turned sinister. “I am more than capable of running this covenant, well enough to keep it out of harm’s way. Enough to serve my purposes, at the very least.”

A growl crept its way up his throat. “Isabella, did you talk with Garry and organize this attack on Xnomina?”

Her smile did not falter. “Of course. I needed the opening, after all.”

That, did not make sense. He raised a brow as he watched her, trying to figure out what her intent was, because her words did not match the reality. If she wanted to work with Garry to help kill Michael, this was a pitiful attempt. The attack on Xnomina accomplished nothing but to be a grain of sand in Michael’s shoe. The building was not that important, and even if it were, it wouldn’t burn down. The government would want to investigate, but the Invictus controlled them, and everything would easily get swept under the rug.

If his regrown leg had been operating at one hundred percent, he’d have jumped away, and gone for his sword or pistol. He was at a physical disadvantage, and skilled as he was, Isabella was about twenty years older than him in Kindred years. Fighting her, and maybe beating the answers out of her wouldn’t be easy. But, there was another way.

He reached into his core, summoned his vitae, and used Auspex. With plenty of his lover’s blood filling him, vitae was in ample supply, and he had no trouble fueling the Mekhet Discipline to its fullest. And with its power coursing through his senses, he asked himself a question.

Did Isabella conspire with Garry?

The Beast whispered in the only language it understood, sensations and images. Isabella stood there, and for a brief moment, Garry stood beside her. Isabella looked away from him, and Garry from her, and the Beast changed Isabella’s expression to match Garry’s: disdain. They had not spoken to each other, or at least, did not seem to have cooperated for this particular attack.

So, Isabella was lying about working with Garry. Why? Was she trying to trick Damien? Or did she suspect he might actually be the one responsible for the attack on Xnomina? Damn Kindred and their infuriating, ever present paranoia.

The drain on his vitae was immediate. His Beast did not like doing this, reaching out and grabbing secrets from the air, reading into a thousand subconscious ticks from his victim, or communicating with otherworldly forces for the answers he sought. He didn’t know how Auspex truly worked, neither did Lucas or Daniel, but all Mekhet relied on its strange ability to see beyond what could be seen.

Sometimes Auspex provided answers. Usually, it just made things more confusing. But nonetheless, he asked his Beast another. Why was Isabella here?

Again, images and sensations. A quiet hum, like a night street in the rain. Isabella on a rooftop, daggers in hand, with Hella behind her, beaten and broken. Michael, and Garry, in an alley with fire behind each of them. And ... Elaine, on the rooftops, beside Isabella?

He frowned as he struggled to parse the images. Isabella was an opportunist, that much was obvious, but the images made it seem like she was doing it to defend Hella. Maybe she was? Maybe she really did love Hella to the point she’d risk her life and run into a burning building, to see if there was an opportunity, any at all, to end this conflict before it began. To kill Michael.

Or he was reading the Beast’s message wrong, and Isabella really was just an opportunistic bitch looking to take down either Michael or Garry, whichever one netted her the bigger gain. Maybe something orchestrated by Elaine?

“You’re lying,” he said.

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. You didn’t speak with Garry. You’re here because you sense an opportunity. And ... you said you worked with Garry, because you wanted to see what I would do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Damn Mekhet.” Unlikely she understood how Auspex worked or the extent of its abilities, but Mekhet were notorious for learning things they shouldn’t have been able to.

“You think I’ll help you kill Michael?”

“I just wanted to test you.”

“Don’t give me that. If I said yes, let’s kill Michael, you’d do it.” He relaxed, a little, and gestured to her. “How arrogant are you, to ask me to betray the Invictus, here in Xnomina?” Not to mention the building was currently on fire.

“Oh calm down, bishop. We’re just talking.” She licked a fang. “And it’s not like you haven’t rushed a building with aim to kill an elder before, either.”

“You’re a snake.”

“Ha! Am I?”

“Yes. You will twist and worm your way through any scenario, all with the goal to pursue your vain interests.” He slowly reached for his sword, watching her intently, vitae pouring into his legs in case he needed to move. “You will accompany me as we check the rest of these floors.”

Her smile turned absolutely serpentine, obviously meant to mock him. “You trust me at your back?”

He did his best to mirror the smile. He knew he couldn’t. Devious grins and slithering smiles were not tools in his repertoire, and all it did was make her laugh.

“No. You’re going first.”

She stopped laughing. “I don’t think so.”

“I could easily tell Michael that you’re conspiring against him.”

“Oh please, he already knows. Were you embraced yesterday?”

Of course. Damien had been taught to serve God, and that the Lancea et Sanctum were extensions of God’s will. The other covenants, particularly the Invictus, were taught to pursue power and money to the point it was expected for the young to eventually conspire against their elders. Jack had told him once that the Invictus were essentially ‘Sith’, or dark Jedi or something. The Star Wars analogy proved more and more correct with each passing moment.