Chapter 163

~~Beatrice~~

“I am amazing.”

Triss blinked at her boss. “Uh, what?”

Jacob stood in her alcove’s entrance, and leaned his shoulder against the stone as he grinned at her. Jeans and a black shirt, compared to her jeans and black t-shirt. Weren’t they quite the pair of witches.

“I’m amazing.”

“Because...?”

“Because I knew just who to pick to be my best witch.”

She rolled her eyes. “You gotta be shitting me.”

“Nope.”

She grumbled as she looked around for Jen. Nowhere to be seen. The Ventrue did still have two ghouls to take care of, and while she didn’t fuck them anymore, she did take them out for training and stuff. Probably doing that, then. Given a few years, or decades, ghouls could get pretty damn strong and do some impressive shit. Something to do with vampire vitae being in their blood.

“And I suppose you want me to explain how I did it?” she asked.

“Nah. Black Blood filled me in on the details. And while I would love to know how you learned that crúac ritual, the one to turn a body into a perfect vessel, I know you won’t tell me. Yet.” Wearing his usual grin, Jacob sat down in the small room of curved stone across from her, the typical bandage wrapped around his eyes. “Witches do love to keep their secrets. Just make sure to write it down before you die.”

“Die?”

He shrugged. “We all die eventually. You’ll do the Circle good to give us some hints about what you did. Make it cryptic, though. Only members of the Circle should be able to figure it out, and make it hard for even them, too.”

“Hard for other witches to figure out? Why?”

“Gotta make ‘em work for it! A good fifty years of deciphering some weird riddle or puzzle, maybe?”

She laughed and put her book down. It was some sort of encyclopedia about ghosts and stuff, the weird accounts seen through history, the different religions and what they thought about ghosts, and the different ways ghosts could supposedly interact with the physical world. It was the sort of shit Triss wouldn’t have cared about before, but now that she was a witch, every word was oddly interesting. Like, really oddly. Like, she was actually enjoying learning about shit nerd style. Oh how she had changed.

“Yeah, I guess I can do that. Write it in a book soon, lock it away in a bank safe and tell them not to open it for a hundred years. It comes out, goes into a museum, some witches steal it away, yada yada.”

“Exactly.”

“Though if Antoinette’s right, a hundred years from now we’ll be worrying about spaceships and trying to navigate an absurd amount of tech that’s bound to expose the whole vampire race.”

Jacob’s smile went through a few phases. Defiance, disbelief, then acceptance. He had a lot of smiles.

“That is a possible future.”

“You don’t think it’s guaranteed humans will eventually go all Star Trek on us and shit?”

“You mean the full cooperation between all nations? Fuck no. But sure, lots of technology. It’ll be Hell for vampires. But there are other options too.”

“Such as?”

Jacob held out his hands like he was preaching to his congregation. “So many possibilities! Which one would you consider? Maybe post apoc? Or maybe something weirder.”

“Weirder?”

“Weirder. I—ah never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged and flicked a dismissing hand. “Antoinette is convinced vampires won’t be able to weather the coming storm of technology. Instead of just cameras everywhere, it’ll be infrared cameras. Instead of paying for shit with credit cards at the cashier, it’ll be gates we walk through that auto-read the credit cards embedded in the back of our necks, and it’ll scan for life signs, too.”

“Think our Disciplines will let us get past them?”

“At first. Eventually the technology will get good enough it’ll spot a vampire doing anything. And after that, the technology will be updated to actively find vampires, so they can wipe us out.”

“That ... is a pretty fucking terrifying idea. Hard to imagine it happening any time soon though.”

“Ah ben oui,” Jacob said, pulling a French accent out of his ass, “zat is why we must prepare for ze future!” It wasn’t a good accent.

“Ok, stop scaring me. Good thoughts, boss man. Talk to Sam since last night?”

“Just a quick message. She wants to hang with her daughter, ‘til the ball tomorrow, and I’m happy to let her have that chance.”

Beatrice smiled at the man. “You’re such a softy.”

“I am a cuddly teddy bear.”

“Something tells me Sam will wear something fit for a sexy mom like her.”

“Don’t think she’ll dress a little more reserved, with her daughter there?”

“She’s Daeva, dude. She’s happy and excited right now, and that means she’ll want to show off.” Because that’s what all Daeva did, pretty much no matter their mood, but especially when they were happy. “And honestly, I think we’ve successfully destroyed most sense Sam’s sense of shame. She’ll wear something slutty, and I bet Mary will too.”

“Oh my,” Jacob said in a very sleazy way.

“Dude. Gross. She’s your girlfriend’s daughter. You ... You haven’t actually slept with a mom and daughter at the same time before, have you?”

Raising a brow, the man looked up in an exaggerated attempt to remember. “Honestly? I couldn’t tell you.”

“Dude!”

“What!?” He laughed as he shrugged. “I told you, I used to have orgies with entire groups of people under the full moon. Entire villages!”

She frowned. “Villages. You sure you’re not exaggerating?”

“Couldn’t tell you.”

She threw up her hands. “Ok, well, in the modern era, it’s pretty gross to expect sexual activities to be shared among family members. Assuming Mary becomes a vampire, maybe in a thousand fucking years when Mary and Sam don’t see each other as mom and daughter anymore, maybe! And only maybe then!”

“Aw.”

“Christ I hope Sam knows how much of a pervert you are.”

“I’m pretty normal by Dolareido standards.”

“That’s not saying much.”

Laughing again, Jacob reached out, grabbed her book, and popped it open as he leaned back.

“What’re you gonna wear to the ball, young witch of mine?”

“Not sure yet. Jen’s got something lined up, and I’m sure it’ll be as revealing as she can get away with. And well, considering how much skin was on display at the last ball, ghouls getting sucked off or fingered where everyone could fucking see, I could probably go naked and no one would care.”

Her boss’s laugh was warm. She expected a snicker or some stupid, childish laugh, but nope, the man’s voice softened, and so did his expression.

“Sometimes I think my old friend wants to capture the feeling of her youth, discovering all the ways her body can enjoy sexuality without worry of disease or pregnancy, or having to recoup.”

“Well shit, I don’t know what the Prince’s motivations are, but being a vampire is pretty damn sexually freeing ... you know, for the other blood clans.” Nosferatu didn’t have it so easy. Triss and Jacob were lucky, compared to a lot of them.

Jacob sighed and nodded. “Poor Bob.”

“Bob? Oh, right, Nos in the tunnels. Dude looks like he walked out of an old vampire movie.”

“Don’t forget Liliana, with a dozen too many eyes.”

Triss shivered. “We got off easy in comparison. Especially compared to Maria.”

“Yeap.”

The two of them sighed, and their eyes slowly drifted down. Jacob was probably just doing it to empathize with her; not like he cared about his deformities anymore. But Triss still did. She was over them, mostly, but sometimes it still sucked that she had to make sure no kine ever saw her face. Vampires often socialized with their prey before enjoying the meal. She couldn’t. She wasn’t much of a socializer, but she wouldn’t mind taking a stab at it every now and then.

“Either way, we should be damn happy about how things are going,” Triss said. “So I’ll wear whatever Jen has lined up for me. Our second lives are good, and I just did something no one else has managed. I wanna celebrate and show off how fucking awesome my ass is.”

“Ha. I’m sure Sándor will like that.”

She blinked at her boss. “Uh, what?”

“Dude is clearly an ass man.”

The alcove echoed with the slap sound of Triss’s hand hitting her forehead.

“I—”

Jacob laughed and shook his head. “Don’t be an idiot. He likes you, Triss.”

Shit.

“You think?”

“Yeap. I’ve seen him looking at you. Dude is obviously tied down by all the nasty shit attached to him, and to you, but somehow you’ve managed to pierce the dude’s stone exterior.”

“I ... I mean, I have talked to him ... a few times.”

“More like a dozen times.”

“Dude, you following me?”

Jacob put up his hands in surrender. “Nah. You’re just very readable.”

“Fuck.”

“I gotta ask though, Triss. It’s clear you seem interested in Sándor, and—”

“I barely know the guy.”

“Is that right? Cause Jen tells me you got him drunk once, and the man talked about his dead family with you. Doesn’t get much more personal than that.”

“Fuck.” Damn you, Jen.

“And for the life of me, I don’t see what you see in the man. He’s basically just Daniel with a pulse.”

“He’s...” Much as she wanted to disagree with him, there was some truth in that. A little. “I like him. He listens. You can understand why a woman would like that in a man.”

He snickered. “I’ll listen to a woman when she has something smart to say.”

“You mother fu...” She rolled her eyes and laughed. This asshole. “How the fuck does Sam put up with you?”

“Not sure. I think she’s after my money.”

Damn it, she laughed again. “Well, I like Sándor. Daniel is a ruthless, cold monolith, you know? And maybe Athalia likes that, cause sure, Daniel is stable and direct and probably everything Athalia wants, or needs, in a man. Sándor is ... not that. He’s just quiet. And there’s a gentleness in him that pokes out sometimes.” Especially when the man had a guitar in his hand. Or a drink.

“Which brings me to my point. You like the guy, but you’re intent on bringing Julias back.”

Triss snapped her head to the side. “Don’t.”

“I think I will.” Jacob leaned forward and gestured to her before setting his hands on his knees. “Julias has been dead for what, almost a year now? And now you’ve put yourself in a weird spot. You’re trying to resurrect your dead boyfriend, the man you love, but you’re also moving on. That’s pretty fucked up.”

“My personal shit is—”

“Not fucked up for you, you fucking dumbass. Sándor. Dude is doing everything he can to make up for his contribution to what happened to Dolareido, to you. And for some reason, you’ve decided to flirt with the guy, while trying to undo the damage he caused.”

“I haven’t been—”

“So imagine things from his point of view. You’re doing everything you can to bring Julias back from the dead, a guy Sándor helped kill, but you’re flirting with him? How fucked up is that?”

“It’s not like that!” She slammed both hands against the furs underneath her. “It’s not like that. I’m...”

“You’re learning to play the piano.”

She stared at him and ground her teeth together, causing the large crocodile ones to shift and click.

“You have been spying on me!”

“I spy on everyone. Get over it. You’ve been learning to play the piano, ‘cause you want to connect with the dude.”

“I ... He ... He’s not Daniel, ok? Give him an instrument and suddenly I’m having a conversation with a normal guy. Normal-ish. I like that. He’s a friend.”

“Well, poor guy is probably ripping himself apart in that quiet, stoic way he seems to love, every time you smile at him a little longer than you should. So why don’t you back off and leave the man alone. Stop torturing the stupid fucker.” He leaned forward again, and stared straight at her with his covered eyes. “Or, and this is probably the much healthier option, let Julias go. Dude is dead, and his soul is gone to wherever souls go. You want to pluck it out of some realm we’ve never reached, not even the Begotten have reached, not even Black Blood? Might as well be chasing one very fast goose. So how about you do yourself a favor, and do that poor bastard a favor, too. Forget about Julias. Forget about this resurrection business. Enjoy a happy life with Sándor. Get married. Get a house on the prairie. Have two point five kids.”

Triss flexed her hands, careful of her claws, and stared at Jacob so hard she felt her whole body shivering. Vitae pumped through her. Her Beast, which normally and rightfully cowered in the presence of Jacob, very much wanted her to take a swing at the fucker and see if she could at least hit him. But god damn it, the image of her living on the prairie with Sándor, and a few kids, was just too fucking hilarious. She laughed again, and Jacob let her, his smile returning as she laughed and laughed until the room eventually grew quiet again.

She looked down, and slumped. “Fuck me, Jacob. I don’t know what to do. I want Julias back, but ... but you’re right. I keep trying to convince myself I can do it, but I know a part of me doesn’t believe that shit. The chances I can bring him back are slim to none. Fuck me, why didn’t he stick around, like Mary?”

“You know why. He died happy, thinking of you, you dumbass.”

Triss squeezed her claws into the fur she sat on, and sighed. “Fuck me. Fuck him. He left me.”

Sighing, Jacob got up, and gave her shoulder a pat before he made for the exit.

“Things will change soon enough. I’ll ask you again, when the time comes.”

“What? Jacob, what?” She raised her head and watched Jacob, but he kept walking, and didn’t look back.

“Like this,” Sándor said, and he played a simple tune.

Beatrice grumbled, and tried. But just like with Damien, her fingers refused to hit the keys the way she told them to.

“Fuck. Fuck!” She slammed her hands on the keys, before glaring at Sándor.

Sándor chuckled, a quiet sound, and he again played the simple tune.

“You treat the keys like enemies.”

“They are enemies!”

“The keys are your friend. You need to relax and treat them kindly.” He set both hands down on the keys, and played a nice harmony with his left while playing a melody with his right. “I don’t know what it’s like for a vampire, but for the living, we need to play it slowly at first to create the muscle memory.”

He talked so calmly and smoothly, he sounded like a music teacher, happy to teach an idiot kid like her. She loved and hated it.

“I mean, it’s a bit different for vamps,” she said, “but my teacher insists you still learn the same way. Just do it slow and often.”

Mary laughed, and Triss threw a glare at her over her shoulder. She was sitting on the couch with her mom, scrolling through websites on the laptop on the table, and giggling up a storm as they watched funny videos, or swooned over videos of cats. Jennifer sat nearby on another couch, scrolling through her phone, likely updating herself on whatever was happening in Dolareido. Parties, plays, new movies, any place that’d make for interesting hunts.

The group of them were in Sándor’s apartment, but it wasn’t much of one. Sándor had only moved in recently, and sure, the crazy expensive apartments in Dolareido were gorgeous and sleek and all black and metal and shiny, but he didn’t have anything in it. A couple gray couches, and that was it. Except for one particular interest: music. He had several guitars on their stands, two acoustic, two electric, one of them a seven string. One bass guitar, too. There was a metronome on the table between the couches, and some sheet music for some Romanian piece none of them could read, staff or language. Plus, the electric piano Triss and Sándor sat at.

Apparently the man’s interest in music was deeper than Triss originally thought when she first saw him play.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been in the apartment, and she’d tried the piano on her last visit. Apparently the man could play a lot of instruments. It was why she was trying to learn — secretly — from Damien, because some stupid part of her thought it’d be cool to impress Sándor with something that was clearly one of his interests.

Jen came tonight because they were best friends and did everything together. Mary and Sam came because Sam had become their friend, somehow, and Mary followed Sam. And honestly, Mary was hilarious.

It wasn’t a date. She would not think of it as a date.

“Triss, come on.” Mary got up, and leaned over Triss’s shoulder. With her right hand, she played the tune, Mary Had a Little Lamb, with a big jackass grin on the whole time.

“Oh fuck off.” Triss shoved her away and glared at her with as much hate and rage as Hell could summon. “You don’t get a pass just ‘cause you have a pulse, now.”

Giggling, Mary jumped back onto the couch beside her mom.

“Maybe it is a little easier,” Sándor said, “for people with pulses to learn to play instruments.”

“Tell that to Maria,” Triss said, groaning as she slumped. “Girl can play ... well, anything, far as Damien says.”

“Been hanging with Damien?” Jen asked, lips curled into the tiniest grin.

“He’s mentioned it before.” Triss rolled her eyes, but she knew Jen caught her. Thankfully her best friend wasn’t one of those jackass friends who liked to screw each other over for laughs, usually. Instead, she nodded and looked back to her phone, like Triss’s explanation had been fine. No need to explain Damien’s connection to the piano lessons.

“It could be because you’re undead,” Sándor said. “It might have something to do with your mind, and your Kindred body. If you never touched an instrument when you were young...”

“I didn’t.”

“Then maybe the stepping stones aren’t there. You’ll have to build them. It could take time.”

“Ugh. I’m only early twenties, in vamp years. I don’t think in terms of centuries yet.”

Sándor laughed. Actually laughed, too. It wasn’t nearly as happy as Mary’s, or as full as Julias’s would have been, but it was a laugh. It made her smile.

“That is, unfortunately, a painful truth about playing an instrument. It takes time.” He set his fingers to the keys again, and played something stupid complex. Like, really fucking fast complex. His fingers were a blur, and at several points his right hand actually moved over his left hand as his fingers danced over the white and black keys.

“I know that song...” She stared at the keys as she racked her brain. “That’s ... Symphony X!”

The man nodded as he came to a stop. “I never learned to use a pitch wheel, so it won’t sound the same.” He gestured to the electric piano. “And regardless, this doesn’t have one.”

“Dude, still, that’s thirty seconds of awesomeness. Fucking christ how long did it take you to learn that song?”

“I learned it after our conversation in the crypt. It took a week.”

“A week...” It’d take her a fucking lifetime to play like that. Which she had, assuming she dodged enough sunrises.

She blinked at him as the first part of his response sank in. He’d learned this months ago, after that time in the crypt when he got drunk? They’d talked about metal music, and how they both loved it, but he hadn’t mentioned his own skill back then. Any other guy would have happily mentioned they played an instrument. She would have, too.

“I’ve been playing for centuries,” he said. “Once we get you past this hurdle, you’ll be able to learn complicated songs in a short time too.”

“Pretty big hurdle.”

“Evidently.”

She frowned at the man, and again earned a small chuckle and smile from him. Always small, hesitant things, like it was a struggle for him to find the emotions. She was sure the man had the emotions, especially if he was capable of having a wife and kid, and feeling all the guilt he did, but he just didn’t show them. His body language was stubborn. And for some stupid fucking reason, she really liked trying to draw emotions out of him.

“Let’s try a different tactic,” he said. “Instead of playing a song, play this.” He set all five digits of his right hand on the keys, and pressed five white keys down, left to right, thumb to pinky.

“A dexterity exercise. Dude I’m not a kid.”

“No, but you are undead. You said you’ve never played an instrument?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded as he looked down at the keys, brow slightly furrowed. His thinking face.

“You need to learn the same way a child does.”

“Well fuck me.”

That earned another small smile from him, short lived though as he went back into thinking mode.

“Your vampire brain doesn’t know how to work your fingers in the right way. I’m confident you understand music, and you can tap your finger to a rhythm.” He gestured to her, and she demonstrated, easily pressing one of the keys in a moderately fast rhythm. She even hummed a bit of Megadeth with it. “So maybe the problem is lower down in your brain. Using individual fingers to press individual keys.”

Slowly, Beatrice did as told. Thumb, then index, then middle, then ring, then pinky finger. It did not go well. The electric piano was set to sound like a real piano, volume sensitivity included, so it was blatantly apparent when she hit some keys too hard and some too soft.

“Ugh, I hate this.” She started over, thumb, then index, then—

“Go from left to right, then right to left. Only hit your thumb and pinky down once. Like this.” He played the pattern, pressing keys in order from thumb to pinky and then back to thumb, playing the three keys in the middle twice each.

Grumbling, she tried again. And like she’d run her head into a brick fucking wall, it did not happen. She couldn’t go backward, at all, not unless she reset her fingers first.

“I fucking hate you.”

Sándor froze for a moment. “I’m sorry I—”

“Not you. My hand! Listen to me you fucker!” She lifted the stupid thing and glared at her fingers and their claws, before slamming them down on the piano. At least she had enough control to ease up before she hit the keys. Hard enough the sound made everyone jerk a bit. Soft enough she didn’t shatter the piano.

“I think,” Mary said, raising a hand. But her mom pulled it back down before she could say anything. Not fast enough for Triss to not notice though, and throw a harsh glare back at the giggling woman. Maybe giving the ghost a body was a bad idea.

Sándor made one of those tiny smiles again, and set his hand on the keys, near hers.

“Slowly,” he said, voice doing that thing it did where it got quiet and deep.

She took a peek at him, and he took a peek at her. Any other guy would’ve just looked away and back down at the piano, but Sándor did this thing where he looked straight into your damn soul. Blue eyes. She wasn’t sure if the man was going out of his way to make eye contact with her, or if he lacked the usual tick people had to avoid too much eye contact. Maybe it was because he was a gargoyle, and sitting there staring at shit was a part of who he was.

So she looked away first, ignored Jen’s knowing glance, and got back to trying to make her fingers work. Mary and Sam didn’t notice the shared gaze, thank god. They kept laughing as they brought up some website to check up on their living friends’ life updates, and they commented rapid fire on it. Who was getting married, who got divorced, who got pregnant. It was enough to make Triss’s eyes roll like it was their job.

But god damn, it was nice to hear Sam laugh like that.

Triss looked up from the piano to Sándor, but the man wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking at Mary and Sam, listening to them. His face was doing that stoic gargoyle thing, no emotion there, pure neutrality, but his eyes were only a foot from Triss’s, and she could see more. So much more, like looking into a fucking ocean.

His phone rang. He checked.

“A message from Jack. Business.”

“Business with Jack?” Triss asked.

“Important. I’m sorry, I have to go.” The man nodded as he got up and headed for the door. “Feel free to stay, everyone.” He nodded to the girls on the couches, and then to Triss. He paused for a moment, just a tiny moment as he looked at her, and then he was gone.

Mary and Sam looked up from their laptop to the door, and then back to Triss.

“That was kinda cold of him,” Mary said.

Triss shook her head as she tried to play the pattern again. “Nah. Well, I mean, I guess, but it’s not cold for Sándor. That’s just who the dude is.”

“A lot of men like that in Dolareido,” Jen said, looking over her phone to everyone. “The sheriff, of course. And Eric and Damien are pretty reserved, too. That said, they’ve both had sex at Bloodlust.”

Mary perked up. “They have!?”

“Not with each other.”

“Oh.”

Triss turned around on the piano bench to face the gossiping bitches three. “Jessy’s to blame.” Might as well join them. “She corrupted Fiona. Fiona and Jessy corrupted Eric. Then Fiona moved on and corrupted Damien, carrying the disease from host to host.” Seeing the tiny redhead on his lap, riding him despite being utterly drained and exhausted, and thoroughly spanked, was pretty damn hot. Triss didn’t really care for spanking, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t insanely hot seeing a little, big-titted chick like Fiona cum her brains out from it. Or watching Sam enjoy it, either.

Jennifer chuckled as she nodded. “Daniel might as well be a stone, however.”

Samantha giggled and sat up a little straighter to look between everyone. “A little birdie told me Daniel was having sex at Bloodlust too, with Athalia.”

Jen blinked at Sam like she’d just shot her. “Public sex? The sheriff?”

“Yeah.”

“What else did Natasha say?”

“W-What? I didn’t ... say it was Natasha.”

Jennifer laughed and shrugged. “Come now, who else would tell you such a thing?”

“The Prince might!”

“Would you ever refer to your sire as a little birdie?”

Sam sighed and slumped, earning a sideways hug from her daughter.

“No.”

Jennifer leaned back in her sofa chair and gently tapped her chin with her phone as she looked up.

“The sheriff is a gorgeous man, in that tall serial killer sort of way.”

Mary choked on a laugh. “Serial killers are hot?”

“To women of an age, absolutely. I’m sure your mother has watched many movies where she’s found herself drawn to the killer.” Shrugging like it was the most obvious thing, Jen looked back down to her phone and got to scrolling.

Sam however, squirmed and inched away from her daughter, only for Mary to pull her back in the sideways hug.

“Mom! What’s wrong with you!?”

“Honey, it’s not true! Jen’s exaggerating.”

“I know that look, Mom! Liar.”

As the two women erupted into the most ridiculous argument Triss had ever heard, Jen grinned and winked at her. It wasn’t a wink about Mary and Sam. It was about Triss, and Sándor.

Triss shook her head. If Sándor was interested in her romantically, he didn’t show it. Friends, sure, but not romantically. And that was probably for the best. He was just a calm, quiet, reserved dude who talked to everyone like that.

So Jen sent her a message on her phone. Triss checked. A picture of a dress, the one Jen planned for her to wear to the ball tomorrow. The damn woman was going to play the game again, try and seduce Sándor like he was some sort of trophy to be earned. Damn hilarious, and impossible. Triss chuckled as she shrugged, put the phone away, and got back to trying to get her stupid mother fucking fingers to dance on the piano keys.

She wasn’t flirting with Sándor. Jacob had made a good point, and she knew it was in her best interest to listen to the damn bastard. What kind of fucking idiot would she have to be, to flirt with another man while trying to resurrect her lover? What sort of stupid, useless, depraved sack of shit would she have to be?

She was just hanging out with her friends, that was all. If the man thought differently, he wouldn’t have bailed the moment Jack called.

Right?

~~Damien~~

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Jack said. “She went out looking for dresses with Mom yesterday.”

“Alone?”

“Nah. The sheriff was with her. Plus I think Tash and Jessy went, and Jessy probably dragged Eric along.”

Damien nodded as he circled the tear. “I can understand the sheriff going with them. Mary being alive is insane, and he can keep an eye on things.”

“Not exactly the best use of his time, but...”

“But we’re stumped.”

Jack sighed, and circled the tear in the opposite direction of Damien. Deep in the factory basement, it was highly unlikely any kine would find it. But they would find it eventually, unlike the other tears that were extremely well hidden, the ones in the physical world at least. They had to close it somehow.

“I really have no idea,” Jack said. “This tear doesn’t match the other ones. I mean, I know Black Blood has some tears around the city not on Tash’s chart, but they’re super old, and as far as Avery and the Begotten know, they’re stable. No danger to the Gauntlet, and no unusual amounts of essence flowing through them and stuff. Am I right?”