Chapter 154

~~Jack~~

He woke up, wet and broken. Someone rolled him over, but his eyes were closed, and opening them took a little more effort than he felt like using at the moment. But once on his back, rain hit his face, and his chest. Wasn’t he wearing a suit? Shouldn’t that block the rain? Oh, right, the fight he’d been in had thoroughly destroyed it.

Pain came next. He groaned as his body did its thing, and what little vitae he had left got to work forcing his shoulders back into their sockets. His neck straightened out; spine was fucked up. His legs straightened out, arms too. Everything got back together just enough that they worked, and he could feel the wrecked muscles screaming with agony.

But at least everything was working again, so he opened his eyes. Yeap, this was still the nightmare chamber that belonged to Azamel, the one that looked like Dolareido. Red rain fell on his face, and he stared up into the strange red sky as it did. He was still alive.

“Jack,” a booming voice said.

“Azamel.” He sighed relief as he sat up. Tried to sit up. His right hand found the street just fine, but his left hand didn’t, cause it didn’t exist. He almost fell over, but rebalanced and sat up eventually. Relieved as hell that it was Azamel, but god damn, everything hurt.

Slowly, Jack looked around, taking stock. Michael stood nearby, suit and body in better condition than Jack’s, but the man struggled to keep standing. Too proud to just sit the fuck down. Garry wasn’t. The other Gangrel sat ten feet off, by the curb in front of the now exposed basement they’d been fighting in. Just like Michael, his skin was royally fucked, covered in bite marks. The two Gangrel probably healed or resisted the first thousand rat bites, but the next thousand got through, and left their mark. If Kindred blood was as thin as human blood, they’d both be bleeding to death.

Jack looked down. The necklace was back on, thank god. Fuck you Ripper.

Jack found the Ripper’s thoughts, the curse’s impulses, it’s almost erotic need to destroy and maim, and cast them into the candle in his mind. Not easy to do, with fire burning through his muscles and bones, but getting thoroughly trashed was becoming so routine, he adapted quickly. When his thoughts were clear and normal again, Jack looked back up at Azamel.

There she sat, literally five feet in front of him, cross legged so one of her enormous shins was beside him, like a wall. Her scimitars were still on the street, and her other weapon, or fishing tool or whatever it was, was still a scattered mess. She wasn’t even trying to clean it up.

“You appear normal again,” Azamel said.

“Thank god,” Garry said. “That was ... not fucking right.”

The other Gangrel nodded. “Indeed. I was ... unprepared for how vicious it would be. And strong.”

Jack laughed, but it switched to an aching cough, and he clutched his chest with his only hand. Yeah, those ribs didn’t like doing that.

“You can see why I want to get rid of it now, right?”

“Yes. I can.”

Jack nodded, and looked to Garry, then back to Michael. “You guys ... aren’t fighting anymore.”

Garry sighed as he shook his head. “You made ... some good points, Jack.”

Apparently Jack’s boss didn’t agree, or at least didn’t like agreeing. Michael’s scoffed, and shrugged. “You warned us something else was happening in the city, something I only have ... a small awareness of. That sounded more important than my quarrel with Garry.”

The Carthian leader laughed, but got the same result as Jack, wincing as his laugh ground to a halt. Yeah, none of them could do so much as bend over slightly without getting run over with pain, let alone laugh.

“If you hadn’t spared Tilly, I’d say this was all bullshit. But I owe you for that.”

Oh thank god, finally, communication. Actual talking.

“And...” Michael sighed and nodded toward the giant elephant monster. “Azamel spared us, if we agreed to a truce.”

Spared. Scary to think Azamel was in a position to kill all three of them. Well, they had beaten each other fucking senseless.

No. Michael and Garry hurt him, and they’d hurt each other, but the Ripper beat the two Gangrels. It ... he won that fight. And the only reason they were alive, and Jack was down, was because one of the most powerful entities probably on the fucking planet tricked him, pulled him into her nightmare realm where she was basically a god, and smashed him into the street hard enough to flatten a car. Multiple times.

“A truce is a good idea,” Jack said. “And you fucking know it.”

The two men sneered, at the same time. Which made them glance at each other, groan, and look away.

“Maybe,” Garry said.

“Maybe? I remember what the Ripper said. He ... told you guys a lot of shit I’d prefer he didn’t. But like Michael said, he warned you about something more difficult than your fucking stupid quarrel.”

Michael growled. “It’s not—”

“It’s fucking ludicrous. People are dead!”

Garry got up, teetered a bit, and pointed a finger at Jack. “Then why didn’t you tell us about it!?”

“Because you were both so fucking head-up-your-asses angry at each other over stupid shit, we knew neither of you were smart or mature enough to handle the information! You’d tip off the enemy!” Jack shrugged, and regretted it immediately, grumbling as the boiling pain smacked him around again. “Avery is your friend, Garry, and even she didn’t spill the beans. The fuck does that tell you?”

Garry glared at him for a few seconds before sighing and sitting down on the curb again, slowly, like an old man. He didn’t look any of them in the eye anymore.

Jack spared a glance for Azamel. She sat there, breathing heavy and deep, like she was permanently winded. But she seemed willing to let him keep going on his rant. Hell, looked like she wanted him to.

“Michael. What happened between you and Amanda?”

Michael sighed as he looked away. “She told me a friend of hers, a kine, was killed by Carthians in a brawl. She said the Carthians were reckless, hungry for violence, and accidentally shot her friend while starting a fight with some Invictus. Amanda wanted revenge. She came to me with a plan, and I agreed.”

“Yeah. Fuck you.” Garry held up his hand to Michael, middle finger up.

That sounded a little strange. He hadn’t heard anything like that from Invictus reports. “Did you double check the info?”

“No. She came to me the same night Garry attacked Xnomina. What reason would Amanda have to lie? It was a perfect opportunity.”

Too fucking perfect. Something wasn’t right.

“Make sure when you un-stake her that I’m there, Michael. Just you, me, and her. Damien too.”

Giving his boss orders was a recipe for confrontation, and Michael glared at him, broken and torn up face ready to pop. But just like Garry, he took a few seconds to think about it — finally, some motherfucking god damn reason — and nodded.

Jack looked back up to Azamel. “You knew I was going to deal with these two like this?”

“Of course.”

“How?”

Shrugging, the giant elephant gestured down at her side.

And out came Mark, a pile of squirming insects and rot. Literally. But at least Mark wore a dark, skin-like robe, giving his shape a human form, normal size. He had a skeleton in there too, but hard to see, among all the bugs crawling in and out of it.

He came out of the fucking shadow, something even the best Mekhet would struggle to do. The disgusting bastard was so damn good, Michael jumped back, and Garry almost jumped up ready to fight, before he realized the man wasn’t a threat. Surprise, to fight-or-flight, to eventual disgust, as the man’s rotting odor spread.

“Mark,” Jack said. “Didn’t the Prince warn you about spying on me?”

The man smirked. “I spied on you, not her.”

Azamel chuckled, and lifted one of her fingers, closest to Mark. A subtle gesture, and Mark disappeared into her shadow again. Holy fuck he was good. No wonder he had the guts to spy on the Prince and Daniel in their own tower.

“I prepared,” she said. “It is not easy to open a tunnel the way I did.”

“Why did you?” he asked.

“Because if I hadn’t, what would I be leaving my family? A broken city, about to suffer the wrath of an infantile curse.”

He sighed as he looked her up and down. It took a lot out of her to do that. It took a lot out of her to flip a building and catch three powerful vampires, too. A lot out of her.

Nodding, Jack looked between the two Gangrels, thinking. He could keep yelling at them, and he kinda wanted to, but at this point both men were willing to talk. Yelling no longer required.

“Garry, Michael ... Roland wo—”

Michael stepped closer and shook his head. “Don’t, Mister Terry.” Oh hey, he had a title again. “I can only forgive so much. You used a deeply personal issue between Garry and I to confront us. I ... can understand why, and you made points I have to consider. Perhaps Garry and I have been letting our past poison our interactions.”

Holy shit, what the fuck did they say to each other while he was out? Did Azamel play peacekeeper?

“But,” Michael continued, “you are no longer to speak of it. Understand? So much as mention Roland’s name, and it will not end well for you.”

Jack nodded as he smiled up at the man. What Michael wanted to say, but couldn’t, was Jack finally punched a little sense into his thick skull, but he better not try it twice.

“You’ll start going to Primogen meetings again?”

“Yeah,” Garry said, “so calm down. We already said truce. First thing we do when we get back, is get our covenants to back off each other.”

“And Jeremy Long?”

“What about him? Dude is a cutthroat businessman, and he has the connections and the tech I needed. “ He shrugged. “And you probably noticed, he ain’t no pussy Ventrue or Invictus.”

Michael and Jack rolled their eyes. Ok, well, insults were a lot better than bullets and fire grenades.

“And Mister Terry,” Michael said, “we will be asking for more information about this threat you warned us about.”

“I ... I’ll try and tell you what I can. But the more you know, the riskier shit gets.”

The man rumbled in his throat. “Risk it.”

“I think,” Azamel said, “that these two dogs have calmed enough to see reason.” Of course she could insult them all she wanted.

“Ok, yeah, I’ll tell you. Um, tomorrow? It’s a long conversation, and it can wait a night.”

“Very well. It has been a trying night,” Michael said. Bastard could barely stand, and called it a trying night, like he’d just done a heavy workout.

Jack looked to Garry. “Avery will tell you everything. Just tell her about what happened tonight.”

“I will. She better have answers.”

“If you want to know more after me and Avery have explained stuff, ask Natasha, or the Prince directly. They’ve been dealing with it a lot more than I have. I’ve had my hands full.”

Garry laughed. A big, full, happy laugh. What the fuck.

“Yeah, I guess you have.” He raised his left hand, and wiggled his fingers.

Even Michael laughed. Not as loud as Garry, but he laughed, before they both groaned quietly in pain. Fucking assholes.

Michael and Garry left. They promised the first thing they’d do when they were outside the nightmare was call a ceasefire. He believed them. Some guys just needed to throw fists in order to calm down and see reason. Typical guy thing. Jack couldn’t wrap his mind around that sort of mentality, but he damn well knew a lot of guys who thought with their fists better than their heads. And reconciled with them too, evidently.

Tomorrow night, Michael and Jack would un-stake Amanda, and figure out what the fuck was going on.

Jack stayed in the nightmare. He wanted to talk to Azamel, and he was terrified it was going to be a painful, heavy conversation.

“I will release the animals you brought with you into the dream. The rats and crows.”

“Thanks.” He dragged himself back up to his feet, and leaned back against a car. “Christ I’m hungry.” He glanced again at the monster’s giant ruined tools that she made no effort to clean up before he looked up at her.

“Do not worry, Jack. I think you made your point to those men. They will still antagonize each other, and occasionally serve as enemies, but you have successfully earned a truce between them. Similar future negotiations will be easier.”

He wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about the giant elephant monster who looked like she was about to keel over and die.

“Thank god. Christ, how can anyone stomach politics for five seconds? The people who actually do shit with it, are the morons, and they have power and money and ... you can’t do fucking shit about them without doing something drastic.”

“Power is not given to those who deserve it. It is given to those who either stumble upon it, or are willing to take it from others.” She shrugged, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “If those who deserved it were simply given it, the world would be ... boring.”

He laughed, but it stopped quick as his ribs stabbed into him again. Yeah, his body wasn’t healing very fast anymore. He was running on fumes, getting very hungry, and he hadn’t even tried to regrow his arm yet. Strong as the curse was, it couldn’t make something from nothing.

“Azamel, I ... Thank you. If not for you, the curse would have killed those two morons.”

“Most likely.”

“And it ... he...”

“The curse grows stronger, each time it takes over, doesn’t it, little vampire? Stronger and more difficult to force out of your mind.”

Jack clutched his necklace. “Yeah.”

“And you have found no way to destroy it?”

He shivered as he looked down. “Black Blood says he—it can. Or not destroy, so much as remove and take.”

“A dangerous bargain. We already suspect the creature of threatening an apocalypse, and you think it will help you?”

“Only to help itself. I dunno if Black Blood will eat it, or bind it and use it on someone else, or what.”

“Then I suggest you find another way to deal with it. I will not be here the next time it needs to be dealt with.”

He winced. “Christ, I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t know you’d help. I didn’t know you’d ... You can’t find someone to eat to feel better?”

The elephant ran one of her human hands down her trunk, but set it back on her knee as she struggled to stay sitting upright.

“I am afraid not, little vampire. I may not be dead yet, but I will be. Soon.”

Soon. She said it softly, and that just made it all the worse. She didn’t mean weeks or months, she meant tonight.

“This is my fault.”

She laughed, a weak and winded sound. “Is it? Jeremiah has hunted me for decades, Jack. This is his fault, and mine.”

Jeremiah. Just hearing the name was enough to send a pulse of rage through Jack, and looking at the dying woman only made it a thousand times worse.

“We saw the flashback in Jeremiah’s ritual. I thought you were being pretty reasonable.”

“About ruling a city as a monster? About exiling my sheriff?”

“All things considered, yeah? Far as human and monster relations go, you had something going there. Something ... not all that far from Dolareido, kinda.”

She chuckled, a little bit of the sound coming through her elephant trunk and making a trumpet noise.

“Perhaps. It doesn’t matter. If I had done things differently, as Antoinette does them, then maybe things would not be as they are. Or maybe I’d have died much, much younger.”

“A life well lived, then?”

“I think so. My inheritance is beyond my reach, but perhaps that is for the best. The new generation will be a fine replacement.”

“What is this inheritance? Antoinette talked about it, but none of us are really sure what it means.”

She smiled down at him, as much as an elephant face can smile, tusks in the way and all.

“You think I am powerful now, little vampire. Imagine what I could do in this world if I were a true monster.”

“True monster? I thought Begotten were true monsters? You’ve said as much.”

“We are ... potential true monsters.” She leaned forward over him, one set of hands on her knees, the other set pressing on the street. “You have no doubt noticed my kin cannot merge with our Horrors in the physical world.”

“Yeah. But I see glimpses of it sometimes, when you’re fighting and stuff.”

“Indeed. Begotten are limited by the duality of the human and the Horror. But there are ways to overcome this ... flaw, to become a beast and Horror incarnate. I could walk the realm of the real, in a form such as mine now, to transform into at leisure. I could reach out and crush the minds and dreams of all within my grasp. I could master my hunger. I could ... become legend, Jack Terry. I could have become a true myth.”

“Myth?”

“Tales of my existence, whispers, stories in books, pictures painted by dreaming artists, songs and poems. True Begotten who become more than they were become monsters of legend, vampire. That was my goal. I came to Dolareido when Jeremiah found my trail, and I planned to defeat him and his companions here.” She sighed as she looked up to the red sky. “Imagine it, little vampire. Imagine the tale of the hunters who came to defeat the great Azamel, and her friend Athalia. A man, hunting his once lover and ruler. A girl, hunting her mother, only to find her defended by a great and terrible monster. What a tale. It would have been legen—”

“Wait for it ... Dary!”

She looked down at him, and blinked.

Jack threw up his hands. Hand. “Sorry, shitty joke from TV.” And him, trying to distance himself from how much it hurt her to hear her say all these things, each word raspy and exhausted.

It would have been kinda scary, and maybe a problem, if Azamel became some sort of literal monster who could go walking around, being a tyrant. Like, a fucking actual dragon or kraken or something. But now her dreams were crushed, and now she was dying. It fucking sucked.

And the last thing she wanted to do with her life was make Dolareido a better place for the other Begotten. Christ, Jack couldn’t even begin to think in those terms, think ‘I’m going to die, better do everything I can to help those closest to me first before I go’. How the fuck does someone think that way?

She was old, and she wasn’t a vampire. That’s how.

“You may go now, Jack. The city needs peace, if you’re to prevent this darkness I sensed from destroying everything.”

“You want me to go? You sure?”

“I am sure.”

Jack looked down the street, where Garry and Michael had disappeared into a building, a storage building. Azamel had created a doorway to the physical world there.

“ ... you’re sure you sure? There’s no one else here. I don’t want to leave you ... alone, you know? I—”

Mark appeared from the shadow of a nearby bus stop. Damn that guy was good.

“She’s not alone. I’ll make sure Fiona and Athalia are here, too. I can have them here in minutes.”

Jack nodded as he looked down. Yeah, that made sense. If Azamal wanted to die with her family, that was a hell of a lot better than dying alone.

It was funny. She was such a bitch, such a massive pain in their ass, but to the three she’d been protecting, she was the quintessential grandmother. Jack didn’t know his grandmothers, but if they were anything like Azamel, at least how she was supposedly like around Fiona and Athalia, he wouldn’t leave them to die alone. He’d stay right the fuck here and be with them until the end.

A part of him wanted to insist. A larger part of him knew that was wrong, weird, and awkward. She wanted to be with her family when she died. That wasn’t him.

“Thanks,” he said. To Azamel, not Mark. Fuck that guy. “I know you helped me because you want to help your family, but ... you still helped me. Now, and other times. And I’m still sorry that I couldn’t fix it. I—”

“You cannot fix everything, little vampire. That is an essential lesson in life, and one you seem to struggle with.” She coughed. Azamel in her human body coughed constantly, especially after Jeremiah wounded her, but Azamel the monster never coughed. She did now, and it sounded guttural, loud, and awful. “Learn to accept that failure is not always, and often not, because you made mistakes, or did not do your best. Will you berate yourself because six Kindred have died in this turf war?”

Will he? He already had. Bruce was dead. Joe was dead. They were entirely his fault. Weren’t they?

Azamel shook her head before he could say anything. “I have known many like you, Jack. You have an honest soul, and are full of empathy. But you must learn to harden yourself, or your desire to help others, to fix every problem you stumble upon whether you are involved or not, will break you. You will withdraw into yourself and try to hold the world at bay, as its pain and agony carve scars into your soul. You will grow bitter, and cynical. And I know you are intelligent enough to have seen this.”

Story of his life. Azamel would have been a great therapist, if she talked to him when his dad died. He had closed in on himself when that happened, and hurt his mother doing so. He’d gotten better about it since his first death, and the idea of going back to being a closed off, cynical asshole, criticizing every flaw around him, terrified him. If it wasn’t for Antoinette, he probably would have already, with all the shit that kept coming his way.

“Listen to me, Jack. The last words of an old monster who has made a million mistakes. Do not destroy yourself carrying the pains or burdens of others. Everyone must carry their own anchors, and while friends and family can help each other, you will destroy yourself trying to carry everyone’s.”

“I—”

“Do not argue, little vampire. I do not have the time or energy left.”

“You’re ... you’re right. Thanks, again.” He couldn’t even look her in the eye.

She nodded, and gestured to the building down the street. “Go. Make sure those two dogs put an immediate end to this war.”

He turned, walked toward the building, got two steps, and spun around. “Azamel, I—”

“Go, Jack.”

“But what about you? I can’t—”

“Do not worry for me.” Even as she said it, she struggled to stay sitting. The arm on her knee slid down to the street, and she leaned forward as her own weight dragged her down. She had to brace all four hands on the ground to keep from collapsing. Her breathing grew heavier and ragged, and her trunk dangled until it nearly hit the asphalt.

“Of course I worry! You’re dying! How can you just accept that!? How—”

“Jack.” She sighed again, smiling as she slowly shook her giant head. “I am glad to have met you. I am glad to have helped you. I am ... content.”

~~Damien~~

Damien checked his phone. A text had come in a few minutes ago, apparently.

~All Invictus, cease and desist any and all combat with the Carthians. Mister Tones and I have come to an agreement and a truce. Right Hands and senior members, report to the Xnomina Headquarters tomorrow night, 23:00.~

Damien blinked at the phone, several times, before showing it to Jessy. She blinked at him, the phone, then pulled hers out and did the same. They were sitting on a rooftop, Cloaked, and hiding from a dozen Carthians out roof hopping trying to find them. The phones didn’t buzz or make a sound, but the two vampires were hiding and didn’t have much to do for the moment. Good thing he checked.

Damien shrugged, pointed at the two of them, then toward the fastest street out of the Carthian district, and shrugged again. No reason to not just walk out then? They were about to take one of the more scenic routes to get around the patrols, but if things were called off, then no reason to not just walk back? On the road? Out in the open?

No, probably a bad idea. The Carthians might not have—

Jessy stood up, and threw up a hand. “Hey! Whatever assholes are chasing us, check your phones! If you can afford one, you broke bastards!”

Damien facepalmed hard enough it made a slap sound. “Jessy, Garry might not have sent them a message yet.”

“Ah come on, you think Michael would send that message first? Pretty sure they’d stand next to each other, and actively watch each other send the message, ready to fuck each other up if one of them tried to trick the other, you know?”

That was true. Damien slowly stood up, and checked around the rooftop for any pursuers. No one. He pulled out his binoculars, and spotted one vampire on a rooftop a good ways away. They were looking at their phone.

“Either way.” Damien touched her shoulder, and wrapped them in his Cloak of Night again. “I don’t trust the Carthians to not take a shot at us for fun, or they might say they shot us before the message was received.”

“Dude you are paranoid.”

“You would do well to be a little more paranoid.”

“Ha. You sound like my sire.” She started down the fire escape, and he followed after her. “So, you think Jack convinced them?”

“Yes. And probably not without a fair bit of violence.”

“Yeah, probably. I’ll go back to HQ and check up on Michael. You?”

“Back to my apartment.” Or Fiona’s. He was starving. After two hours of playing hide and seek with a bunch of Carthians, draining his blood reserves to fuel his Cloak, reapplying the Cloak over and over, he was quite drained. If necessary, he’d feed on a random kine, but Fiona preferred to be the one he fed on.

Feeding on someone frequently wasn’t healthy for the prey, if done too frequently in a small time frame. But Fiona healed quickly, and he was happy to indulge. It almost always led to sex, and he’d grown quite addicted to both the rush her monster blood sent through him, but also the sex. One more step to becoming yet another proper Dolareidian.

Another text came in, from Jack, from one of his backup phones. He did have a habit of getting them destroyed.

~You guys ok?~

~Yeah, we’re fine. Distraction work?~

~Yeah, worked great, thanks. Got Michael and Garry talking. It was brutal.~

Damien showed Jessy the conversation, before he called Jack. Texting would forever be a frustrating nuisance.

“The meeting tomorrow night,” Damien said. “You’ll be there?

“Yeap. And before that, Michael’s taking me to Amanda. I want you there. Jessy can go out and make sure the Invictus and Carthians fucking listen to the truce order while we deal with that problem.”

“Any idea about why Michael staked her?”

“Yeah. Amanda gave him a story about Carthians killing a kine friend of hers, so she wanted revenge. I’m mostly sure it’s bullshit. Something’s up.”

“Will you Dominate her to learn the truth?”

“I’d prefer to not. And that’ll only help if she’s lying. Can you use Auspex to gleam some truth from her?”

“I can try.” It was not Damien’s strong suit. Speed, stealth, sure. He’d even glimpsed the past from objects on occasion with Auspex, or caught a peek at a hidden truth about someone. What Jack was asking for was Auspex’s ability to sync Damien’s mind to a victim’s, essentially becoming them for a time. A useful trick for uncovering memories or discovering secrets buried in a person’s mind. It was not something Damien could do, or at least not well. It was something Lucas struggled to do, and used rarely.

“Think I should ask the sheriff?” Jack asked.

“It may come to that. But the man is busy.” Hunting for anything he could about Black Blood and the ritual, no doubt. “I think we should talk with Amanda first.”

“Agreed. Let me talk to Jessy for a bit?”

Damien handed Jessy the phone.

“Dude, you got Garry and Michael to fuck off? How? Wait, seriously? Holy fuck dude, that’s awesome! Oh ... Oh Michael is going to be a sour bitch for a while isn’t he. Fuck. Well fuck you, man! He’s my sire! I have to deal with him more than you!”

He found Fiona on his bed. For a moment, he thought she was lying on her side in a sexy position, curled up with her head buried in his pillow, waiting for him to come ravage her. But as he came closer, he found her trembling, and her sobs muffled by the pillow.

“Fiona?” He sat down on the bed next to her, and stroked her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

She lifted her head, revealing her ruined mascara. She was never the sort to wear a lot of make up, but what little she did wear was smeared all over her cheeks, and his pillow. Tears soaked both.

“Damien!” She threw herself at him, as much as she could while lying, and flattened her chest against his. She hid her face in his neck, and cried. And not a tender whimper, or a sad sob. She bawled, almost screaming as she cried directly into his ear.

He didn’t mind. Confused, but didn’t mind. He hugged her, twisting so he was sitting directly on the bed, and she was half on his lap, half pinned against his chest. With one hand holding her waist and back, the other held the back of her head, and he leaned in to press his cheek against the side of her head, against the almost spongy texture of her frizzy hair.