Chapter 171

~~Damien~~

It’d been a long time since he’d been in this much pain. Maybe that time he’d helped Jack and the others bring down Jeremiah and Angela? Fighting Sándor’s Horror had certainly been painful. Maybe that time the azlu had stabbed him through the stomach, straight through him, and left a large hole in his guts and spine? That hadn’t been too painful, considering how quickly he’d gone into torpor, only to be awoken by Beatrice’s blood.

Beatrice. The Nos took a peek his way, long enough for them to share that uncomfortable memory, before she looked back to Sándor. She’d been doing that a lot. He’d thought maybe she’d been taking piano lessons from him to impress the gargoyle, but seeing her watch Sándor as he and Jack talked, sealed the deal. She liked him. It was understandable. Sándor was a great guy. But Triss was not only Jacob’s protege, she was also trying to resurrect her dead lover. It was a love triangle even a soap opera couldn’t match. Love square, with Jennifer involved.

He watched her as best he could, but he knew even if she tried something, he was in no condition to stop her. There wasn’t a drop of vitae left in him. He’d managed to heal his jaw enough it worked again, but that was the best he could do. If someone so much as looked at him too strongly, his face would probably crack like an egg and spill his brains. He had his sword back, but swinging it would be near impossible. He was tempted to give it back to Jack, but considering what the kid had tried to do with it, maybe he could wait on that.

The kid was willing to kill himself to stop the Ripper. He’d legitimately tried. And the moment Jacob and Black Blood were dealt with, he’d try again. Maybe someone could stake him before he did, but that’d only delay the inevitable. The necklace had ultimately backfired, given them all a false sense of security, and now Monica and Caleb were dead because of it. The kid would never forgive himself for that.

Lord, please, the kid didn’t deserve this.

“You guys absolutely sure you want to come?” Jack asked.

“Enough already,” Avery said. “We’re going.”

He winced as he looked between the six remaining werewolves, before nodding, and looking to Beatrice.

“Triss, I—”

“I’m going. I need to talk to him. You’ll either have to stake me or kill me, because I’m going.”

Jack sighed and looked to Athalia.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not dragging her back. Besides, I’m here now, and we know for sure Jacob’s going to try something tonight. I’m going, too.”

He looked to Mary.

“I’m going! I don’t want to hurt Jacob, but if he’s going to let that ... that ... black thing, tear everything down, then what happens? What happens to you, and Mom? No! Black Blood is—”

“The reason you got to try a body again,” Triss said. She regretted it the moment she said it, eyes widening, and she took a step back as she put up her hands. “Sorry. Fuck me, I’m sorry. But you’re all so convinced Jacob and Black Blood are out to kill everyone, but—”

“Not kill everyone,” Jack said. “But they are going to—”

“What, start an apocalypse, that then that kills everyone? Bullshit. Fuck, I had to kick Aaron’s ass to get here, because that dude is so convinced what Jacob wants to do is good for everyone, that he was willing to die for it. You get that? Jesus christ, Black Blood is the reason Jeremiah didn’t kill all of you!”

Silence heavy enough a graveyard would be envious. Everyone looked between each other, with more than a few winces traded. Only Sándor managed to keep his eyes on her.

“Beatrice,” Sándor said eventually, “we don’t want to kill them. We want to stop them. That’s all.” Unfortunately for the man, the tone in his voice, monotone as it was, said it all. Stopping them most likely meant killing them, or at least killing Jacob. Whether Black Blood could even be killed or destroyed was still a question mark.

Jack let out a snort. “My necklace is gone. We could get everyone to comb this place for it, but you know damn well we’ll never find it in time. Hell, a ghost probably had orders to run off with it. It’s gone. That was Black Blood’s fault.”

Slowly, Damien put up a finger.

“He did tell us to stay put. This fight wouldn’t have happened if we—”

“If we what?” Jack said. “Just let Jacob destroy the—”

Triss threw up her hands. “He’s not destroying the world! We don’t know if—”

“He’s going to break the whole fucking universe,” Avery said, and she dragged herself toward Triss, rage boiling in her eyes. “He lost his girl, and now he’s pissed and wants to merge it all, get rid of the whole life and death cycle. He’s a bastard who’s throwing a hissy fit, and he’s bringing us all down with him.”

“Oh fuck you.” The Nos walked up to Avery, and met her glare with her own. “Jacob has done more for me than anyone. He deserves the benefit of a doubt.”

Jack shook his head. “We’re pretty sure he and Black Blood triggered the war between the Invictus and Carthians, probably for the distraction.”

“Did he kill anyone?” Triss asked, eyes snapping to Jack.

Jack hesitated. “No.”

“Then what the fuck? Everyone running in with guns out ready to kill him, but—”

“He’s going to get everyone killed!” Jack threw up his own hands, and got in Triss’s face, even closer than Avery. “Killed, or turned into soup, I don’t fucking know! We have to do something.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Enough!” Everyone snapped their heads to Sándor, and the man let out a slow breath. For a split moment, there was something more in his expression than his usual stoic calmness. He looked angry. “Enough. We have no time. We will go, and figure out how to handle the situation when we arrive. I am not willing to let Black Blood alter the fabric of the entire world, but Beatrice is correct, as well. Jacob and Black Blood deserve the benefit of a doubt.”

Everyone listens when a quiet man speaks.

Slowly, they all nodded, and looked to Jack. Jack shrugged and motioned to Sándor. And again, a hint of emotion came through the man’s face. Surprise? Awkwardness? He didn’t expect to suddenly have everyone looking to him on what to do.

It took him a second to find the words. “Let’s go.”

The werewolves struggled to keep up, for a little while. After five minutes, their wounds healed well enough they managed to follow, though it was also because Sándor slowed down to a fast walk. No point in tiring them, or himself out, before he opened a tunnel into what was going to be utter chaos. They didn’t know what they were walking into, how could they? All they could do was go through Sándor’s tunnel, and come out near the deepest tear, where Jacob and Black Blood were working to destroy the world.

Damien and Clara took up the rear. His legs mostly worked, and so did hers, though one of her arms was borderline useless. Sándor glanced back frequently, scanning for ghosts that might dive them, but it looked clear. And Mary hovered above, circling, also looking for ghosts to scare off. Or more likely, devour.

“You trust her?” Clara whispered, and she nodded toward Beatrice.

“Mostly.”

“Mostly.” After a quiet growl, not nearly as intimidating in her human form, Clara clutched her ruined shoulder.

“She’s smarter than she seems,” Damien said.

“You sure? ‘Cause so far, all I know is she’s been trying to bring back her dead lover, and in the process, caused Samantha a shit load of pain.”

Damien shook his head. “That’s not a fair statement.”

“You know the details?”

“No...”

“Then,” she nodded again in Beatrice’s direction, “don’t be so quick to assume you can trust her. She was willing to get her fingers into some very fucked up pies, Damien.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I ... fuck, I don’t know. Gotta tell someone.”

“Jack?” he asked.

“Nah. His head’s not ... it’s not on right.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Sándor?”

“I thought about that, but ... you seen the way they look at each other?” She leaned in closer. “Triss was genuinely concerned about the dude. Almost like she came down here just to save him, you know? And I think Sándor is ... well, he’s hard to read, but I think he’s not oblivious to it.”

Damn. If Clara could put it together, there was a chance other people would, too. It wasn’t exactly a bad thing, if Beatrice was interested in Sándor, or vice versa, but it did make things complicated.

“Jesus,” Clara said, “I’m glad Brace isn’t here.”

“Oh?”

“He’d be dead.”

“Maybe.”

“Ha, I guess. He is a hunter. Dude’s got some tricks up his sleeve. But ... after what happened, with the Ripper?” She shivered. “You just know that fucking psychopath would have killed him in the most horrible way, just to hurt me.”

“That ... is true.”

“And fuck me, I...” Wincing, she looked to Jack, then back to Damien. She opened her mouth again, but no words came out, and she sighed as she slowly looked down.

“It won’t happen again,” he said.

“You know that for sure?”

“I do.” Damien gestured to the sword on his back. “He tried to kill himself, Clara, to make sure it didn’t happen again. The resolve it’d take to come to that conclusion, is immense. And I can guarantee that’s still his plan.”

She slouched, and that invisible anchor he’d grown quite familiar with hung off her neck in front of her.

“Carter’s dead. And Ja ... the Ripper killed Monica and Caleb. Fuck ... fuuuuck. Avery won’t even talk about, it. She’s—”

“Focusing on the mission so Jacob doesn’t trigger Armageddon. Your boss has the right idea.” The fact Clara had almost said Jack killed her pack mates didn’t escape him. She was cracking.

“I know. I know, alright?” She put a hand to her jaw. Like Damien, her mouth was a royal mess, split lips and missing half a dozen teeth, lopsided, and he was pretty sure her left cheek bone was cratered. “And—”

“Clara, we’re going to see this through. Either we save the day or we all die trying. Lord willing, we stop Black Blood and Jacob from destroying everything, and we live to see another night.”

Lord, what sort of insanity led him to being the voice of will and courage? That was not the territory of Mekhets. And yet, it was land his sire had walked, frequently. Perhaps a little of him was showing through. He prayed it was only a little.

Getting clear of the spiderwebs took longer than they expected. A fifteen minute journey. Not exactly an eternity, but it felt like one, with everyone forced to walk as their injuries continued to heal. No one managed to recover fully, though Jack’s injuries seemed to become an afterthought for him. He still looked like hell, but whatever strange power the curse gave him, it allowed him to continue pushing and fighting until he was well past what most vampires could handle. Even if he lost both arms and legs, and had his guts ripped out, he’d keep fighting. The only way to legitimately kill him, would be to cut off his head.

Damien hated that he was thinking about it. He hated that Jack had been thinking it, too, and likely still was.

There were many spiderwebs, far more than anyone expected, giant things that reached high and connected colossal stones to colossal pillars. The azlu had been busy, probably doing its best to do what it did, weave webs, while also only eating when absolutely necessary to avoid gathering attention. Smart.

Why it had an instinctual need to weave webs that separated the realms, strengthening the walls between them, the Uratha didn’t seem to know. But it was what they did. And considering Black Blood and Jacob were trying to tear down the barriers between realms, they wanted the azlu gone as much as the Uratha did. Which carried some scary implications. How much of their fights with the azlu over the years had been orchestrated by the spirit of death?

Sándor held up a hand, looked around, and a hint of a grimace showed on his face.

“Give me a moment. Burrowing from here isn’t easy.”

“Why?” Noah asked.

“No true darkness. No similarities with my lair. No pathway to reuse, no portal, nothing. This will be ... draining.”

Sándor held out his hands at his side, and squeezed them, as if grabbing the air. As he did, the silhouette of the gargoyle emerged. Four enormous wings and four enormous arms reached out, and did the same, the four hands grabbing the air and pulling it in toward Sándor like invisible curtains. As he did, darkness fell on them. The green lanterns in the distance disappeared, and eventually so did the giant boulders and pillars, the distant, almost infinitely high walls, and the mist. Soon, all any of them could see, was blackness.

Damien wasn’t too far from Athalia when Sándor started, and so close, he could hear her breath quickening. Whatever it was Sándor was doing, it was enough to have Athalia in literal awe. Truthfully, Damien had never seen anything from Sándor to make him think the gargoyle was some monolith of strength like Azamel had been, but then again, he hadn’t ever witnessed Sándor engage his strength outside of a simple fist brawl with the Ripper. And back then, it’d only been his Horror, separated from Sándor himself.

Now, Damien couldn’t help but stare up at the disappearing cave, and how the gargoyle in front of them somehow managed to bury it all in darkness. He didn’t just wrap them in a pocket of black. He brought darkness down on the whole area. A hundred yards? Two hundred? Three? It all vanished behind the veil.

Athalia’s breathing changed, and vanished. Damien looked at her, but the darkness was too thick. Pitch black. He could hear her though, and it wasn’t her anymore. Athalia’s Horror didn’t breathe, but he could hear the giant bone hands on stone.

“We in the dream?” Jack asked ahead.

“No,” Sándor said, deep voice a rumbling bass. “We are burrowing. It cuts near the dream.”

Burrowing, indeed. They were moving. Damien sucked in a useless breath as he looked around. Still too dark to see anything, but there was movement in the black, as if the darkness itself was a river they were swimming through. His feet didn’t move, and the ground he stood on remained solid, but his Kindred eyes caught enough hints of something to tell him they were moving. A kine would have gotten motion sickness, if they’d somehow noticed.

One minute of silence. One minute of no one saying anything, waiting with baited breath — the breathers, anyway — as Sándor brought them deeper into the Great Below. Sándor had already described to them what they’d find, but they all knew there was no way they’d be able to appreciate it until they actually saw it.

They were right.

Sándor pulled the darkness open, like someone pulling apart an onyx curtain of Saran wrap, and the light spilled over them. Light was a strong word. More like, hints of reflection, as if light had managed to sneak its way into Hell, and they were getting glimpses of it shining against the endless walls of the endless depths.

“Holy shit,” Triss said, looking up and around.

The Great Below from before looked cozy compared to the world that welcomed them now. The ceiling was just as high, miles high, as if they hadn’t gone deeper at all, but the pressure on Damien’s skin told him otherwise. Everything felt heavier, and everything looked darker. Stone, endless stone, with stalactites big enough to destroy city blocks if they fell, and stalagmites as tall as skyscrapers.

The differences were immediate. There was no mist. Everything looked wet, was wet, with lines of water dripping down the rock faces that surrounded them. Or at least, it looked like water, slowly trickling down the stone, until it fell into the black around around their feet. Damien almost jumped up when the water soaked through his shoes, but the silence told him to stay put and don’t move.

Black water, shallow, but everywhere. Oh good Lord.

“It’s not Black Blood,” Clara whispered. “It’s ... from the same place, I guess? It’s not the spirit. I’d smell it if it was.”

Everyone relaxed, slightly, and looked back out to the cave. This one had more cave tunnels to it, colossal winding paths that led into each other, creating less a maze of tunnels, and more an endless array of warped, twisting and turning pillars of stone so massive they were beyond reasoning. From wide births in the stone above, bits of light fell on them, giant beams that were soft, afraid to light up the blackness with anything more than subtle, passive illumination.

There was no color. No green lanterns of ghosts searching for whatever it was they searched for. All they could see, no matter the direction they looked, was a giant cave that looked like the evil twin of the cave they’d just come from. The fact they now had to walk in cold black water several inches deep, made it a thousand times worse.

“Watch where you step,” Sándor said. “The Great Below isn’t ... stable.”

“Earthquakes?” Triss asked.

“No. It’s not solid matter. It will change if something decides to attack us.”

“What the fuck? How?”

“I don’t know. The few times it happened to me, it was very strange. The ghosts here have evolved into little more than monsters, and the Great Below alters with them wherever they go.”

Triss groaned as she clutched her arms and hugged herself. “Fucking lovely.”

Sándor faced ahead, took a small sideways step closer to Triss, and walked forward.

~~Beatrice~~

Well, she was in the shit, now. Deep shit. The deepest shit shat by a god of shitting. Every second that passed, the familiar air of the Great Below sank deeper into her. Her combat boots wouldn’t let water this shallow in, but that didn’t stop the atmosphere from punching her in the guts over and over. She knew this feeling. She’d felt it every time she’d summoned Black Blood for his help.

Death. Not rotting corpse death. Not violent death. Not even the blood or guts or anything death often came with. Just, death, the sort of death you found in a graveyard, but only at night. A heavy, cold blanket, something that pushed you down and sucked the heat and energy out of you.

She’d gotten used to the feeling. She’d had to. Every time Black Blood answered her, she’d had to stand in the presence of the huge bastard, and drink in the essence of him, whether she wanted to or not. It wasn’t the sort of a thing a human could do. Hell, she doubted anyone who wasn’t already half dead could be around Black Blood too long. No wonder he and Jacob worked together.

Sándor took a step closer to her, or more like, slid a little closer to her, and started ahead. She smiled at the back of his head, but something else punched her in the gut. A memory. Julias, slipping in a little closer to her, back on their first date, and she’d been like an angry cat, hissing at him. Christ, she was stupid. She was so fucking stupid.

The water splashed around them as they walked, but it was thicker than water, and didn’t make much sound. They walked slow, and scanned left and right with each step. Mary stayed close to Jack, and Athalia stayed close to Sándor, pretty much directly beside him, a little ways back, close to Triss too. And every so often, she gave Triss a worried glance. Worried about them all dying, worried about Sándor, or worried about Triss’s weird relationship with Sándor, she didn’t know.

Triss glanced back. The werewolves were so beat up, they were nothing but a liability at this point, and that included Damien. They should have listened to Jack and just stayed put. But then again, she couldn’t blame them. If the world really was about to end, then it was all or nothing, even if ‘all’ included six werewolves and one vampire who wouldn’t be able to do shit. They knew it, and they’d rather die as sacrifices in a battle, than do nothing. Badass, but probably futile. They didn’t know Black Blood like she did. They didn’t understand just how fucking powerful he was.

Gravity yanked down on Triss’s right leg, and she yelped as she half plunged into a fucking hole in the water.

“The fuck!?”

Sándor had a hand on her in an instant, and he pulled her up and away. Actually, he fucking threw her, and she yelped again as she fell back on her elbows with a splash.

Before she could say anything, a huge arm shot out of the black where she’d sunk, and lashed out for Sándor. A big, black arm, just as black as the dark water, it had too many segments, three elbows that bent and twisted, and let the arm snap out at Sándor.

Sándor jumped, the silhouette of four titanic wings pushing him back with a hard gust. Athalia and Jack came up to the hole, but the arm pulled back into the black like a whip, splashing them as it vanished.

“The fuck was that?” Jack asked.

Sándor could only sigh as he let the silhouette of his Horror fade away. “A ghost.”

Mary hovered over to the hole, and stared down into it with her black gaze. For a second, Triss wasn’t sure which was the deeper and scarier, the hole into death she’d almost fallen into, or the girl’s eyes.

“It’s gone now,” Mary said. “Whatever it was, gone. Gone gone.”

“Gone, as in gone away?” Triss asked. “Or, gone, as in ... not human anymore?”

“Both.” Mary slowly ran her long claws over the water, as if tempting the other ghost to attack her. “I can ... smell it. Smell what it was. Something angry. Something that killed. Something that was stopped.”

Jack risked coming a little closer. “Stopped?”

Mary came closer to the water until her nose almost touched it, and she hovered there for a few seconds. Gravity pulled her hair and rags down, but far too slowly, as if the girl was borderline immune to ... existence.

“Executed, for drowning people.”

Triss snarled as she got up off her butt. “Well ain’t that just fucking fitting.” Groaning, she slapped her ass. Yeap, soaked. But at least she didn’t get any water in her boots yet. “Okay, so holes in the ground. Any other surprises?”

Sándor offered her a small smile, and a smaller shrug. “I’m sure there will be. Ghosts pass through, and the place changes.”

“Almost like the spirit world?” Jack asked.

Sándor shook his head. “More immediate. Be on your guard. We still have another half hour of walking.”

“Why drop us off so far from where we’re going?” Triss asked.

“If we came out too close, Jacob or Black Blood might notice.”

That was true. Their entrance wasn’t exactly subtle, and Black Blood and Jacob would probably intercept, or squash them the moment they stepped out of Sándor’s tunnel, or something. Which meant, the only reasonable course of action, was to drop them off far enough they could approach sneaky style.

Which meant there was a good chance she’d walk into another hole that’d try to kill her. Except she couldn’t drown. How the fuck would that work?

“Let’s keep going,” Jack said. “We’re running out of time.”

On they went. Jack, Sándor, Mary, and Athalia took lead, scanning the floor and sky for potential doom. Everyone else stayed directly behind them, with enough distance that if a ghost explosion suddenly blew them up, it wouldn’t take out the whole group. Probably. Triss stayed in the middle of the group, able to help someone if some ghosts came at them from behind. Probably.

Sándor glanced back over his shoulder. For a second, Triss thought he was looking past her at the werewolves, or maybe Damien; they were still all royally fucked up. But they met eyes, and looked at each other for a few seconds. It wasn’t as if Sándor normally avoided eye contact, it wasn’t his style. But something in his eyes caught Triss off guard, and she stared into his gaze, unable to look away.

Something had changed. He gave another barest hint of a smile, and looked ahead again.

Ten minutes later, Sándor held out a hand, and everyone stopped and crouched. A deep, rumbling sound filled the air, followed by a heavy crash.

Triss crept up and joined the front line. She almost asked what was up, but the shadows ahead moved, and she shut up quick as she watched.

That, was big. Black Blood? No, and whatever it was, it moved ahead with the same colossally slow movement she’d expect from a giant dinosaur. Big, heavy steps, each that crunched the stone underneath it. No talons, but big, flat, almost circular feet. It moved on all fours, but it was in a squat, like a gorilla or something. It didn’t have a head. Instead, the chest had a single, big fucking eye, and it glowed white as the giant thing moved along.

Wherever it walked, the ground and shallow water spread apart. Crunching stone, earthquakes, massive vibrations pulsed out with each step, before its weird giant feet even hit the ground. It let out a bellow, without a mouth, and looked in their direction.

Thankfully they’d been smart enough to get behind some big rocks when Sándor had put up his hand. A giant white beam of light shot out from the creature’s weird eye, and passed over them like a searchlight. No one moved. Even the werewolves, wincing in pain as they crouched in awkward positions, didn’t so much as groan, as the blinding light moved over their cover.

It moved on. The strange searchlight pointed ahead of the towering creature, and it walked away, each step it took still splitting the ground apart and leaving behind craters.

“Mary,” Triss whispered, shaking her bracelet, “maybe you should hide in here? Other ghosts might, uh, sense you, I guess?” It might sense living things too for all she knew, but ghosts did seem able to interact with each other in a way they couldn’t with living things.

Mary frowned at her, and looked to Jack, but Jack gestured to Triss. Finally, a bit of trust. Mary hovered over to her, and slipped into the bracelet, like a puff of smoke coming out of someone’s mouth, in reverse. One second there, the next, gone.

“Thought I recognized that bracelet,” Jack said.

Triss grinned at him, and plucked it a couple times. The elastic band snapped the cute bracelet back in place, earning a smile from the kid.

They moved on. Endless, giant pathways surrounded them, and they all looked the same, but Sándor seemed to know where he was going. And whenever a strange noise came up, everyone ducked into cover.

The ghosts down here weren’t fucking human. Sándor had said that, but this was insane. The gorilla ghost twice the size of a T-Rex was just the beginning. One ghost went by that looked like a centipede, made of human torsos, and wherever its hands touched the shallow black water, the water recoiled and refused to flow back, as if the ground the centipede touched was tainted. Another ghost flew by, on an actual wings, with human arms dangling from its underbelly. The pillars moved aside rather than let it touch them, and considering how titanic the pillars were, the whole Great Below groaned with the sound of shifting stone.

Another flew by, hovering a few feet over the water. It looked like a giant eel, except massive, maybe fifty feet long, with wriggly, moving skin. It didn’t get close, and Triss had to squint, but unless she was wrong, its skin was made out of human fingers. No eyes, and a giant mouth that looked all too similar to Mary’s, or what Mary’s might become. As it hovered along, the cave let out quiet, but very deep moans, and the stalactites above pulled down, lengthening. The eel was like, some sort of zipper or something, and the cave followed its path by dragging the giant stalactites closer to the ground.

One ghost left Triss hypnotized. Whatever it was, it stayed mostly under the water, with only some bumps from a likely very warped spine sticking out of the water’s surface. The bumps were skulls. And as it passed, stone pillars grew up from the ground in its wake. They came up slowly, and reached about ten feet high, maybe four feet wide. And on each one was a crucified skeleton. Stranger, was the pillars didn’t disappear or anything. They stayed there, permanent, dozens of small pillars in a scattered pattern behind the borderline invisible spirit, marking the path it had swam, as if some sort of horrible crusade crucifying sinners had come by.

That, was a scary fucking thought. The ghost of a crusader, maybe? That was one very old, very powerful ghost. Jesus fuck, what if they came across the ghost of someone who burned witches? Or the ghost of a witch that’d been burned?

She glanced down at the bracelet. Mary was on the road to becoming a twisted, fucked up ghost like that, something that embodied an aspect to a ridiculous degree. A entity of murder, or rage, or hate. Sabrina had been on that road, too, before Mary ate her.

Christ, poor Sam. There was no stopping it now. She had to say goodbye to her daughter’s ghost, because if they brought Mary back to the surface in her current condition, there was a good chance she’d kill people. And that’d probably include innocent people. Heartless as Kindred could be, they did try to keep innocent people alive. Save for a few assholes like Honors, vampires in Dolareido didn’t like seeing nice people die, and that was exactly what would happen with a hungry, angry, volatile monster ghost like Mary. Though, truthfully, the elders would be more concerned about a ghost attracting unwanted attention and breaking the Masquerade, more than anything.