Chapter 15

~~Jack~~

Every time he woke up, it was a shock.

Julias had said a Kindred doesn’t really sleep, cause how could a corpse sleep? They just become a corpse, and when the sun sets, they un-corpsify. Each and every time, it was like someone jammed adrenaline straight into his heart. He sat up in his bed with a jolt, and could feel the Vitae spike through his system to wake him with its unnatural power.

But then it settled. He’d grown more comfortable with his new body, its strange, thinned and pale skin, its strength and durability, and even the beast that now lived in his chest. He looked around, and smiled at the world around him. It was his apartment, and it was a really, really, really nice apartment, like the one Julias had before he’d been promoted. The place locked down automatically during the day, so he didn’t even need to worry about accidentally getting himself killed in the sun.

He took some time to look at himself in the mirror. The scars were still there on his stomach, a painful reminder of the circumstances of his embrace, but other than that he really liked what he saw. Sure, a Kindred was pasty white and unusually thin unless they blushed life, but everything else looked great. And it always would. He no longer aged, and every day he’d revert to the condition he was in upon embrace while he slept. He was god damn immortal.

As long as he kept drinking blood, that is. He pat his belly, half expecting it to growl either from gurgling stomach acids that no longer existed, or from the famished beast that lived next to his withered heart.

“Wow, poetry?” he said to the mirror. “Antoinette’s rubbing off on me.”

The apartment didn’t have two floors like Julias’s, but it had three bedrooms – two completely unused cause what the fuck did he need three bedrooms for – and a connected living room and kitchen. All sleek, stylish and cool-colored cupboards and walls, with a window to overlook the city from high high high up in his apartment. Hell, Julias’s old apartment was right across the street.

He walked around his apartment, naked of course. It was weird how there was absolutely no sensation of cold from the air on bare skin, not even a little, even when he opened his fridge. There was blood there, in the same sort of wine bottle Julias used. He reached in and got ready to down it straight, but rolled his eyes and put the thing back.

“Get a glass or get it fresh.” He wanted fresh, of course. There was nothing quite like a cool drink when he was alive, but now he was dead and his dry insides demanded warm, thick blood to satisfy.

His mind drifted to Antoinette and her ghouls. Much as he loved the Prince, it was her ghouls that came to his mind when he was actually hungry. The feel of their young, healthy blood gushing over his tongue with the mix of hormones from arousal, and orgasm, it was all a glorious cocktail of taste and exhilaration. And then, there was the feel of their tight, wet flesh wrapped around him during the Kiss, and all the hot juices that came with climax.

“No! Fucking hell you stupid ass. Antoinette is busy today, Julias is busy today, so you have to take care of yourself. You’re not some weak leech. You’re a fucking vampire.” He stabbed himself in the temples with his index fingers a few times, before rubbing his fingers along his buzzed head. “Go hunt. Hunt. Hunt.”

Hunt. Hunt. It sounded so easy. It’s what Kindred did after all, and he’d more than proved himself to the Invictus and to Antoinette that he was capable. But the actual act of a solo hunt was just something he’d yet to do. Something always happened that allowed him to bypass it. Fuck that though, he was going to do it.

He got dressed in the typical suit of casual Invictus business, and tried to keep the memories of Mrs. Pavala from his mind. It wasn’t his fault, he knew that, and the beast in his gut who’d killed her didn’t care about her death or her family’s misery at all. And then that made him think of his own family. Kindred had a dozen ways to fall into a spiral of depression.

“Maybe that’s why I’m being such a pussy about this. Alone with my thoughts ... ugh. Julias warned me, he did.” He stood in front of his apartment’s door, still closed, and bounced his head against it. Then banged. He’d been spending all his time with Antoinette, and his sire Julias, cause it meant he didn’t have to think about this shit.

Well, fuck that. He wasn’t a pussy!

Ok, he was a bit of a pussy.

Just a couple week ago, he was riding high on his ego after a successful mission for Xnomina, and even higher after having slept with three women in a single night. But now he was standing on the sidewalk outside his apartment building, watching the nightlife walk by, taxis drive by, and he had no fucking idea what he was doing.

Suddenly, the kine he was supposed to feed on weren’t kine. They were humans. They had thoughts and feelings and voices.

“Social anxiety? ... really?” He jabbed himself in the forehead with a finger. He was a Kindred. He was a fucking vampire.

But he just stood there, shuffling his feet, watching people go by. Paralyzed.

“Hey.”

“Holy shit!” He jumped, spun around, and actually landed on his ass.

It was Shark-mouth. She was leaning back against the door to the apartment building — she’d gotten behind him so easily — with arms folded against her stomach and one boot against the door. She really carried that badass chick thing well, complete with the tank top, leather jacket, ripped jeans, the works. She was using that nifty cloak of night thing Nosferatu and Mehket could do, but so close like this they could still talk.

To the kine, he probably looked like he was talking to his imaginary friend. Wonderful.

“Julias here? He wasn’t at his place.” She pointed across the street.

“His place? Oh, right, he said he hadn’t shown you his new place.”

“He moved? ... he didn’t tell me.”

Wow. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was pouting. It was hard to tell with how her raven hair hid the sides of her mouth, but he doubted it’d be any better if he could see her massive array of huge teeth. “He took Alder Honors’s mansion for his own.” He tried to sound adult, proper, royal, but it just didn’t sound very good on him.

With a small wince, he got back up and dusted himself off. Presentation was important, even to a Nosferatu, or a rebellious Carthian. But adjusting his suit and tie only made the damn monster girl chuckle. She was infuriating, and scary.

“Wait wait, he’s got Viktor’s old place? Shit man, in Rich Side?” She pushed away from the door, and a mad grin crossed her lips, big enough he could see the shark teeth peak through.

“Right, Rich Side. Ok? I’ll be seeing you.” He gave up on the fake royal demeanor waved her off before he started walking down the street.

A moment later, she was walking next to him. She definitely had guts for a Nosferatu, not for walking with him since he was just a pipsqueak, but for walking along in the crowd of kine. She tilted her head, avoided eye contact with kine who stepped too close, and otherwise kept her discipline going just enough so kine’s eyes just glided off of her. It was impressive.

And he’d much prefer to make his mistakes learning to hunt in private.

“What do you want?”

“You’re hungry aren’t you? Please sir, I want some more?”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Ha!” She reached out and gave him a pat on the shoulder, just hard enough he felt the claws on her fingers. “Kid you are fucking hilarious.”

“Seriously could you fuck off so I can—”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

He looked up at her and gave her the meanest glare he could muster. It only made her laugh.

“Kid you got a Ventrue with a heart of gold for a sire and a Prince with blood bags by the dozens lined up for you. Not either of them has probably had to go on a proper hunt in decades. Antoinette, centuries.” She chuckled more, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him in close while they walked. “Ain’t neither of them who could teach you to hunt. Manipulate people and control them, sure, but hunt?”

He grit his teeth. Julias was a tough fucker, and Antoinette even tougher, but Beatrice had a point. Neither of them were hunters.

“What’s your point?”

“I,” she said, and poked his temple with a claw, “am going to teach you.”

There was no way out. Between the dark and the street, there were only walls. As if he was herding sheep, the kine in the back alley stepped away from him with a hurried, uneven step.

“Who are you? Hey, don’t try anything!”

It was a woman, someone in her forties, in good health and well dressed in a nice, sexy nightlife dress made for clubbing. The dress was particular for its open neck line, and his eyes transfixed themselves to it. She couldn’t see his face, not with the distant back light of the street behind him, and only blackness around them, but he could see every detail on her. With hunger bubbling up in his chest, the subtle touches of veins on her neck stuck out like a sore thumb.

“I said stay back!” She started rooting through her purse, and before long she had out her pepper spray, but he kept coming closer.

There was no one around, this deep into the city’s underbelly. No one who cared about a woman in an alley, anyhow. He had no idea how unsafe it was down here, this deep in South Side, but now that danger was his ally. So many dark alleys, barely any cops, and enough dirty money being thrown that nearly every street had some sort of unruly establishment. It made for easy pickings.

She reached into her purse, hands fumbling and zippers rattling. “I’m warning y—”

“Look into my eyes, woman.” He put on his best Julias voice. He was short, with no width to his shoulders or weight to his stance, but none of that mattered to a panicking woman all alone in a dark alley. And when he stepped closer so she could see his eyes in the shadow, he could hear her heart beating fast enough to hurt.

“I ... said...”

Quieter, and quieter. Her voice faded until it was just a whisper. Her eyes locked to his, drifted half-closed, and when he moved his head to the side, hers moved with it. Even her heartbeat slowed rapidly.

“Look into my eyes.” He came closer again, until he reached out. Would she break from his hold? Would she scream bloody murder? So close, he could smell her body, the natural scents of skin, the unnatural scents of perfume, and the hidden tide of blood within.

“I...” Barely audible. When he finally took her wrist into his hand, she didn’t pull back or flinch or even breath faster. She just held his gaze, and he held hers. Her consciousness had faded, and her eyes became a window to her subconscious. He had control.

Don’t think about your sister. Think about those thugs you controlled for that Xnomina deal instead. He didn’t know this woman, and that anonymity was powerful. It took only a small bit of effort, the smallest push, and her weak and terrified consciousness knelt like a slave. He never considered himself to be the dominant sort, but to have a human just give into your will was ... intoxicating.

“Expose your neck.”

She tilted her head to the side, reached up, and brushed her hair out of the way. Her eyes had grown dull, subservient, and her breathing was smooth and calm.

“Turn around.”

She did as told. So easy, so effortless. Intoxicating wasn’t a strong enough word for the rush of power he felt controlling her. He took a step nearer to close the distance, put his hands on her stomach and hip, and took a deep breath of her neck. The smell of life, blood, even the musk and perfume, it spoke to that beast in his gut and mixed into his senses like thick incense.

And when he bit into her, it all came together in that orgasmic mixture of sweet, warm, flowing blood gushing up into his mouth. Tight lips, don’t spill a drop, drink it all down until the flow slowed. He remembered, from Antoinette and Julias, remembered how to keep the victim alive. For the moment though, he let his beast rule, and drank with wild abandon. She didn’t mind, and even let out moans of bliss from the power the Kiss had. Just like with Antoinette’s ghouls, just like with the kine he’d fed on when with Julias, the woman melted and gave in.

A minute later, he opened his eyes, and lowered the now unconscious woman to the ground. He spent a moment to make sure she was leaning against the building wall, and despite himself, even checked to make sure he could still see signs of life. It was important she was still alive.

Beatrice landed beside him with a loud thud. She’d been watching from above, and it was her guidance that had lead him here. She showed him how to pick a target, follow them, guide them with bits of scary noises, moving shadows, and knowledge of the city’s layout.

“You let her live.”

“What? Well ... yeah, course I did.” He tilted his head to the side and scratched his buzzed hair. “Is that ... do you not?”

She shrugged. “I usually let them live. Sometimes though, you find a kine that really just deserves to die.” With a quiet chuckle, she brought her claws up to her hair, and moved it aside to expose her shark teeth so she could pick at them. “But some Kindred kill at their whim. They’re just kine, blood bags, sheep, and you’re the wolf. You can too.” She reached out with that claw then, and poked him in the forehead hard enough she actually pierced skin; and it did nothing, no blood or anything, because he was a Kindred.

He was a Kindred. Not a human, not really. He was a walking corpse.

“ ... just because I can doesn’t mean I would.” He frowned then and pushed her claw aside, complete with a painful wince. “What sick fuck would just murder living, thinking, self-aware humans just because they can?”

“Your grandsire for one.”

“Then I’m glad I fucking killed him!”

She blinked. He blinked. Oh shit. Oh fuck he may have just royally boned himself.

“Fucking hell. You set the fire that took him out!” She grinned a smile that had him taking a step back. Those teeth were horrifying whenever she let them show.

“I ... um...” Shit shit shit. He looked around in a panic, but there was nothing and no one around. It was just a dark alley, an unconscious woman, and a Nosferatu Carthian who should very much not know what he just said.

“Don’t worry kid, your secret is safe with me. You think I’d be fucking your sire if I just wanted to screw you guys over?” She winked at him, but there was an obvious glee in her eyes. No poker skills at all, like him.

She was trustworthy ... ish. Julias had taught him well enough to see that.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Ah god damn kid, you’ve seen me topless. Just think of all the things your sire does to me in the dark.”

Ew. Ugh. Erk. Beatrice was attractive, sure, in a monster chick kind of way, and her shark-teeth-for-cheeks made her definitely interesting, and scary, but the thought of his sire fucking her was disturbing. Kind of like picturing your dad fucking someone.

“Speaking of sex!” Beatrice peaked down the alley to make sure no one was coming into the dark, then sat down on the unconscious woman’s lap. “Gimme the scoop!”

“Uh, she isn’t going to wake up?”

“Fuck no. You drained her good. In a few hours she’ll wake up and this’ll all be a hazy memory.”

“Um ... alright. Scoop?”

“You and the Prince! My god man, you’re banging the most powerful Kindred in all of Dolareido! Hundreds of Kindred in this city and your first hook-up is the mother fucking Prince. Gimme something!”

He did not expect that, not at all. Most of the Nosferatu he’d dealt with were quite closed off and aggressive. Beatrice was certainly aggressive, but she was smiling and grinning in a genuine way he couldn’t quite understand. A happy Nosferatu was paradoxical.

He wasn’t exactly keen on talking about Antoinette with her, but he did owe her. And she had him by the balls with his slip-up.

“Are you going to the ball with her?” she said.

Arg, the ball. All the Kindred would be there. At least, the Carthians and Invictus would, and Antoinette. The Circle of the Crone never came to those gatherings, thank god. Jacob was a scary fucker.

“Yes, yes of course but...” He looked around, as if someone else may be listening. Just him, the monster, the unconscious woman, and the dark. “Fucking terrified of dancing in front of hundreds of Kindred.”

The laughter that erupted out of Beatrice was almost deafening. “Fucking surrounded by vampires, all of them older than you and looking for any edge they can find, and you’re worried about your dancing skills?”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t you be?”

She tapped her chin a few times with a claw. “You know what? I probably would be too.”

~~Beatrice~~

She could never whistle, not since she got her shark teeth, but she tried anyway. It was a huge mansion. Huge! Dare she say, it was the biggest place in Rich Side. And her boyfriend owned it. She tried to hide the grin on her face, even wipe it away, but it remained. There really was something hot about Julias and his rise to power, complete with the suits to go with. Her old Carthian friends would laugh, hell she’d laugh if she’d known she had such a kink.

But she wasn’t about to just walk up to his front door. He had a big, fancy place, and she was sure in typical Julias fashion that he’d let his guard down with his naivete. So she crept through the shadows and worked her up toward the huge building, which was not easy with its large array of windows on its antique, Victorian design. Whatever, that was Viktor’s shit, but it did mean she had a lot of windows to keep track of as she approached, even with her cloak of her night hiding her.

It’d been a few days since Jacob had marked her with his Crúac. That insane rush and elder mastery of the discipline was gone, but she was still a damn pro. Pro enough to sneak up on her white knight, at least. There were small hills, trees, and holy fuck there were statues holding pitchers of water and everything. It was so disgusting. She loved it.

She went around back. Christ there was a fountain, huge and pouring water over an array of some kneeling statues before a tall ... Viktor. The fucker had a statue of himself. The hair was different, but she recognized the cheek bones of the twice dead bastard. Around the base of the statues were yet more statues of various predators and scavenger animals. Typical Ventrue, thinking he lorded over the animals and the kine.

One of the small animals waved. A rat, a real one. She looked at it, it looked at her, and it waved again. Why the mother fucking shit was a rat waving at her?

How had she not smelled it? Shit, she was downwind, so the fucker must have sneaked up on her. And to top it all off, the rat was pointing at the back door of the mansion. Rats didn’t just randomly stand up and point at things, but this one was.

For fuck’s sake. With a loud grump, she got up, let her cloak of night fade, and opened the large door. It was one of those heavy doors of colored wood with ornate carvings of historical figures she’d only seen on book covers.

She was not prepared for what was inside. Massive, spiral stairways, pillars, couches with elaborate patterns and what must have been the softest fabrics from a billion years ago. On one of the couches that pointed toward the entrance she’d come in through was Julias, one leg folded over the other and a smirk on his face.

“Alright, alright, you caught me.” She put up her hands. It was his rat, the dirty rat. Damn Ventrue and their rats.

“Think the Invictus would have given me this place if I wasn’t strong enough to protect it?” He got up, gave her that cocky smirk, and walked to her.

All she had to do was smirk though, and that cocky smirk of his was gone and replaced with his old white knight self. The dumb bastard, smart as he was, didn’t have a cruel bone in his body, and she took full advantage. She stepped up to him, and gave him a quick kiss. It was more than enough to make him surprise blink.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, head tilted and eyebrow raised. “You seem in a good mood.”