Chapter 180

~~Antoinette~~

“Do not lie to me, Begotten. I can see your thoughts.”

“No you can’t.” Sándor did not so much as blink as he looked at her, and then back down at his electric guitar.

The two of them sat together in her Elysium Tower, in one of its many deep, large rooms. This one was a carefully balanced room with acoustic panels in strategic locations, to ensure whoever played their instrument within its center, would experience only the most perfect balance of sounds. The appropriate amount of time smearing and echo, minimal but existent. No standing waves. No loose bass to bury their instruments and hide their depth.

But other than the various, and sometimes intricate arrays of white panels along the black walls and ceiling, with especially thick panels within the room’s corners, it was an empty room. Large enough for plenty more than Antoinette and Sándor, but small enough that such a small arrangement felt natural. She had been tempted to invite Maria, but ultimately, she was happier to have not. The two of them would never get along, and she wanted to speak with Sándor alone.

“Nonsense. I can see it in the way you move. I can see it in your eyes.”

Sándor effortlessly played a scale along his guitar’s neck, and the tiniest smile appeared, only to vanish. The man did not like showing his emotions, but he had them. It would be an interesting challenge discovering them, a challenge that likely intrigued Beatrice to no end.

“Fine. It’s going well.”

“I would imagine so, for it to garner such massive reactions from you.” She grinned at him as she mirrored his scale. Alas, the cello was not designed for such quick notes. She did well, and Sándor watched with a pleased, if subtle expression.

“It’s going very well,” he said at last.

“That is good. Beatrice, and even that little minx Jennifer deserve some happiness. As do you, whether you believe it or not.”

He nodded slowly as he looked back down at his guitar, and quickly tested another scale.

“I believe it.”

“Oh?”

“I do.” He nodded again, and played the scale faster.

She eyed him as he continued to warm up. Any other man would have explained what he meant, but Sándor was content to let his words stand. He knew that she knew he referred to the night of Jacob’s death, and the advice the dead souls had given many. A powerful night for all present, and perhaps Sándor most of all.

Antoinette mirrored the scale.

“I can only imagine the sex has been quite the adventure for a man such as yourself. Two women at once, with appetites as large as theirs? Jennifer is a buxom, beautiful woman. And of course, Beatrice and her rather ... large derrière.”

He missed a note, paused, and resumed playing the scale again, faster.

“You’re shameless.”

“Of course.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if rolling them would have been too great an emotion.

“The sex has been great, and they’re both gorgeous. And, they’re both wonderful.”

“That they are.” She offered the man her most warm, inviting smile, and scanned his expression as he peeked up at her from under his stern eyebrows still aimed at his guitar. A confirmation. The two women had indeed satisfied some of his fantasies, helped settle his nerves, and perhaps, even opened him up to new experiences he had not considered.

Antoinette was tempted to tease him about it. A threesome was hardly a step above vanilla, and neither was anal sex, two forms of sexual activity that had been practiced by many cultures for thousands of years. But she could not tell how sensitive the man would be to teasing. Some quiet men were quiet because they were fearful, with sensitive egos. She doubted that applied to him, but still, no reason to poke the bear and taint his newfound pleasures.

But that did not mean she could not indulge the conversation and satisfy her curiosity, either.

“And the gargoyle?”

He lifted a brow as he looked up. “What about it?”

“Forgive me for asking, but it gave me the impression it was capable of sex, when I saw it. Am I wrong?”

He looked back down at his guitar. Hiding his facial expression then. Embarrassed? Unsure of himself? She could not tell, not yet.

“Not wrong.”

The small inflection was enough to tell her much. He had had sex with the girls while transformed, and it had been good. And considering who he was now dating, the girls had likely been the ones to suggest the idea.

Antoinette tapped her chin with a finger, before again setting her bow to the strings of her grand instrument. She paused, opened her mouth, and closed it, before again playing a scale.

“You want to say something,” he said. He had not looked her way.

She smiled. “You know I am interested in sexuality in many ways. Academically and artistically.”

“I do.” He tuned one of his strings.

“It appears you have indulged Beatrice and Jennifer in what has likely been some of their greatest sexual fantasies. I would be in your debt to learn of the details.”

“Details...”

She grinned as she looked back to her cello, and again played the scale he did. The cello would never be as fast an instrument as the guitar, but a few centuries of practice helped mitigate the issue.

“Details. Such a fantasy is so tantalizing, so delicious, I am afraid I must ask for the particulars.”

“I’m not sure I get ... why my sex life would be so interesting to you.”

She laughed and shook her head. Sándor was an ancient, wise man, but the ways of a woman’s mind were, perhaps, still a mystery to him.

“The idea of a beast, gargantuan, deadly and dangerous, powerful and beyond intimidating, even terrifying, and yet strangely handsome and oddly masculine? And, dare I say it, perhaps a touch tortured, morose, and longing for companionship? That, is a romantic fantasy given life, Sándor. Have you not spoken with Jessy? Or rather, has she not bombarded you with tales of what it is like to be pinned and thoroughly ravaged by Eric when he is transformed? To be filled to bursting by hot flesh, claws wrapped around her throat, while a hungry beast glares down at her with an aching need to wholly possess and own her? She craves such a fantasy.”

“I...” He gulped. Finally, she had managed to dent his armor.

“Have you not seen Disney’s Beauty and the Beast?”

“I ... have.”

“Then be aware that many, many women, found the idea of Beast in said movie, to be utterly carnal.”

“Because he transf—”

“No, not because he transformed into a man at the end. I mean, as the Beast, Sándor. A deadly, terrifying, massive, strangely handsome monster. To be held down and ravaged by such a creature? Many young girls — and boys — had their sexual awakenings watching that film.”

He frowned slightly. “You might ruin that movie for anyone listening.”

“Then be glad it is only you that listens.” Chuckling, she played her scale again, faster, faster than a song would require, until she felt comfortable her Kindred half would not interfere with her muscle memory tonight. “There is no need to feel self conscious. Women everywhere would love to taste such a fantasy, not just Beatrice and Jennifer. And as you and I become better friends, I hope you will share with me the details of such an indulgence. I envy those girls.”

He eyed her, a little suspicion in his gaze.

“You never—”

“Alas, never. Looking back, I can see I was too absorbed in my own growth of power to ever dare risk a sexual encounter with a deadly creature, such as a werewolf or monster. Now, I am centuries old. There are few creatures on this planet I could not fight face to face. The delight in being helpless and at the mercy of a colossal creature about to force his massive length into my dripping, boiling insides? I will never experience such a treat. And while I adore my life with Jack, and our sexual dynamic, a wandering mind cannot help but peek over the fence to examine the grass elsewhere.”

The man said nothing for a while, watching her, looking for the joke in her words. There was none. She was serious, and she made sure he knew it as she held her smile.

“You’re a strange person, Antoinette.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Sándor. No one can live as long as us and not become a touch bizarre.”

“Touché.”

She laughed, and motioned to him and the small tablet in front of him, held up by a music stand. It could display sheet music, and scroll through it automatically, along with a metronome beat for them to follow. She had her own.

“I assume you know Vivaldi.”

He frowned slightly. “I do.”

“But...”

“But I was kinda hoping we could play something a little more contemporary.”

“Why would we, when we can play the true classics?”

With his subtle frown unrelenting, Sándor looked at her, and began to play.

She stared, and forced herself to keep her jaw from dropping, as the man effortlessly played Vivaldi’s Summer. He did not glance at the tablet, and needed no metronome. Indeed, as his left hand smoothly danced the fret board, and his right hand’s picking missed no string nor struck too hard, Sándor continued to look at her. And despite herself, her mouth did part slightly as he began to tap his foot. To play a fast, complicated piece of music from memory without error, on beat, was the territory of a master musician. To do so while tapping the foot, was a place where even the virtuoso struggled.

She stared on and listened as he completed the movement, and she managed to close her mouth once again.

“I ... did not realize you were this talented, Sándor. Dare I say, you are more talented than I, or even Maria.”

“Thank you.” He nodded as a small smile crept onto his face, and he looked down at his guitar as he effortlessly swept an arpeggio. “The gargoyle likes to ... sit around, and watch the world go by. I like music. So I practice a lot.” And by a lot, the quiet man likely meant several hours a day, every day, for literal centuries.

“I can only imagine.”

“So, Maria’s good, too? I’m surprised you didn’t invite her.”

“We do not get along, she and I. I am a scientist. She is a devout, religious...”

“Simpleton?” he said, offering her a knowing eye.

“She is not simple. That is part of the reason her blind faith in a religious figure infuriates me so.” Shaking her head, Antoinette set her bow against her strings. “You think I should invite her regardless.”

“I do. I can play the piano about as good as I play the guitar, but it’d be nice to have a pianist join us. Three instruments. Fuller sound.”

She frowned. “I will ... invite her another night, if you play some classical music with me now, dear Sándor.”

He chuckled, a quiet sound that carried with it a gentle breeze that soothed her. It was likely a sound he rarely made, and she could easily imagine Beatrice savoring each one she managed to pluck from his soul.

“Alright. After that, how about some Pink Floyd?”

~~Jack~~

Down and down into the Elysium Tower, down past all the sealed off doors and long hallways where Antoinette did her crazy experiments.

Which one of these rooms did Antoinette kill all those people in? He didn’t want to know. It wasn’t like she kept it a secret from him, and it’d been just a matter of time before the Invictus — and Damien — stumbled onto the information. A lot of kine had disappeared, a lot lot, enough to be a Masquerade risk, and the Invictus and the Prince were doing some double duty on the media to keep it from spreading. A shit load of people had disappeared off the street, in one night.

Jack wasn’t going to ask her about it, either. He knew she’d done, did, and would do everything she could to make sure she only killed kine who deserved it, but, damn that was a lot of people.

Elders were scary. No way in hell could Jack do some twisted shit like that, just execute a bunch of people who deserved it ... Except, that one time, with Beatrice and Jacob...

He shook his head and rubbed his buzzed hair. Don’t think about it. That was then, a lifetime ago. Now, he was on a trip to visit his amazing girlfriend, and hang out and talk about stuff. Just, hang with his girlfriend, and talk. Not strategize or talk about politics. Just, hang, and talk.

There were two people in the whole world he actually liked talking to, just to talk about stuff. Damien, and Ann. Yeah sure, the others were his friends too, but not like Ann and Damien. And now he was going to have a conversation with Ann—and Sándor, apparently.

He stepped into the music room, and made sure he raised his eyebrow in a very obvious quizzical manner, as he looked between Sándor and Ann. She had her giant cello, and the gargoyle had an electric guitar in hand, plugged into an amp.

Where the fuck did Ann get an amp? Did she even know anything about amps? Or had Sándor brought it?

Jack joined Ann’s side, and she smiled at him as she finished off a song, a song he knew pretty well.

“That,” Jack said, grinning at her before giving Sándor his ‘I know that’ eyes, “is Pink Floyd. Comfortably Numb, right?”

“Indeed,” she said. “I am not unfamiliar with the band.”

“You’re ... not?”

“Of course not. But, no, I do not know how to play the song. Sándor was teaching me.”

“Sándor?”

The man nodded, and rested his hands on the guitar, letting the neck strap keep it on his thigh and knee.

“I’m a fan of the classics. Unfortunately for the Prince, she thought I meant classical music.”

“Which,” she said, “are the classics.”

Sándor snuck in a quick smile, so fast Jack almost didn’t notice, before he looked down at his guitar and slipped his left hand under the neck, fingers to the fretboard.

“Agree to disagree,” he said.

“You like Pink Floyd?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“And...”

Sándor shrugged. “Classic rock from the sixties, seventies, and eighties, are my true loves.”

“Oh shit.” Jack grabbed one of the tiny stools and sat down. “I mean, I knew you played music. Triss mentioned that, but we haven’t talked much lately.” On account of her hanging out with Sándor pretty much nonstop since they started dating. “You like metal, too?”

He nodded.

“You like ... Metallica? Megadeth?”

He nodded.

“Journey?” Sándor had to like Journey, if he liked rock.

He grinned, again a sneaky thing that vanished quickly as he nodded. He loved Journey.

“Judas Priest?”

He nodded.

“Ozzy?”

He nodded.

Fucking god, finally! Finally, someone else who knew music. Sándor probably didn’t live in the modern era of metal, like Jack did, kinda, but Jack enjoyed the classics, too. If it weren’t for the classics, his favorite metal bands wouldn’t even exist.

“Dio?”

He nodded. It was practically a given.

“Queen?”

The man outright smiled, bigger this time, almost as big as a normal person’s smile.

“I think it’s safe to say I’ll like most of the classic bands you do, Jack.”

Fucking. Awesome.

“Newer bands?”

“Maybe.”

“Ayreon? Avantasia? Nightwish?” Not exactly new, but new by Sándor’s standards, for sure.

Sándor nodded.

“Unleash the Archers? Devin Townsend? Blind Guardian? Sabaton?”

He nodded again. Okay, maybe some heavier stuff.

“Lamb of God? Architects? Sold Soul?”

He nodded. He knew the names of all these bands? Did the guy just live and breathe music?

“Lorna Shore? Mys—”

“Jack.” Ann reached out and pat him on the shoulder. “I think it is safe to say, that Sándor has dedicated his free time to music in a way none of us have.”

“Well, damn. I mean, I uh ... I had no idea.”

With a hint of a smile again, Sándor plucked a string, but didn’t play anything.

“I assume you play, Jack?”

“Nah. I’ve tried, but I could never stick to it, you know? Fiddled with some instruments when I was younger but never stuck to anything.”

“No time like the present.”

“From what Damien and Triss have told me, learning to play an instrument as a vampire is a pain in the ass.”

Sándor nodded as he looked at his strings and tinkered with them idly. “Supposedly. But...” He gestured to Ann.

Ann grinned at Jack, leaned over, and kissed him. “You do seem to like music in a way few do, my love. You should learn to play an instrument.”

“But I suck at it.”

“Then it is a good thing you will have centuries to learn.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Encouraging words, with absolutely zero attempt to bullshit him. No ‘oh I’m sure you’re fine’ or ‘I bet if you just put your mind to it, you’d be great’ or any of that crap. God, he loved her.

“Well, I mean, I do like guitar and piano, but it’s the singing that really sucks me in.”

Ann and Sándor looked at each other, considered, and smiled.

“Then,” Ann said, “you have some work to do, my love.”

Garry’s apartment building was old, shitty, and strangely comfortable. There was something freeing about knowing you didn’t need to worry about making a mess. Scuff marks, dirty footprints, no one in this building cared, and its hallway carpets showed enough wear and tear you could see the story in them. A fight here, some old vomit stains over there, claw marks from a local cat using the carpet to sharpen their nails, shit like that.

“I miss this place,” Triss said.

Jack grinned at her. “Take your pick. Crappy apartment buildings and crappier bars, or underground caves filled with bones and stuff.”

“Oh the caves, definitely.”

They both nodded as they walked the stairs up toward the top floor of the building. The stairs creaked, unhappy with the intruders.

“You know your boyfriend is a great guitarist?” he asked.

“Dude is a fucking virtuoso, with guitar and the piano.”

“And he loves music. A lot of really, really good music.”

“I know! Wait, how do you know?”

“I caught him playing with Antoinette. She had her cello and he had his guitar.”

“Oh damn. I knew she played, but, she can play with Sándor?” she asked.

“Maybe not Sándor good, but still damn good.”

“Bet they’d make some awesome metal.”

“Ha, good luck convincing Antoinette to play metal.”

“Not a fan?”

“Fan, no. She can enjoy it, some of it, but she’s a diehard classics lover. And by classics I mean—”

“Mozart and shit.” Laughing, Triss gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Shame she hates Maria. With Maria on piano, the Prince on cello, and Sándor shredding, they could play some pretty wicked shit.”

“That ... is the plan, I think.”

“Really?”

“Sándor wants her to try and get along with Maria enough to at least play with them. He hasn’t had anyone to play with, especially not at his level.” Jack looked up at the old ceiling as they walked. “If he can manage that, he can have my job as peacekeeper.”

“Thought that was only for dealing with the Uratha and Begotten? Not Maria.”

“He’s better suited for the job than I am, if he can get Maria to play with Antoinette.” And honestly, Jack wouldn’t mind someone else taking the role. Then again, with Azamel and Mark dead, and Athalia best friends with his mom, the Begotten were now easy to deal with. Avery, on the other hand, not so much. She was next on the visit list.

Triss knocked on a door, but didn’t bother waiting. With a little more force than was probably necessary, she swung the door open and marched in.

“Garry, long time no see.” And without so much as a glance to the man to see if this was okay, she sat down in one of the shitty chairs in front of his big, wooden, chipped and worn desk.

“Beatrice. Nice to see you’re still a bitch.”

Garry sat behind the desk in his chair, wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He was leaning back, feet up on the corner of the desk, and the shaved-bald man smirked as he looked at Jack.

“Mister Tones,” Jack said.

“Jack. I suppose you’re here to get an update on shit and get back to your job? Took your sweet time, jackass.”

“Sort of. May I sit?”

“Yes you can fucking sit, jesus christ.” He pointed a thumb at Jack while looking at Triss. “This guy. Just like Julias.”

Triss smiled. “He is.”

Jack sat, smiled at Triss, a gave Garry a stern look.

“I—”

“This isn’t about Vicky and Parker’s brothels, is it? Those two little fucks can suck my dick, Jack. Those brothels are getting problematic, and—”

Jack put up a hand. “Not about that.”

“Then the fuck do you want? And why’d you bring the witch?”

“Hey!” Triss yelled.

“Oh come on, you telling me you’re not a witch?”

“You said it like I was some ugly bitch making villagers sick. Which, I mean, I could do, but I resent the implication.”

Garry laughed, plucked a knife that’d been stabbed into the corner of his desk, and idly flipped it in his hand as he looked back to Jack, waiting.

“I’m here,” Jack said, “to talk about Jacob.”

Garry stopped flipping the knife.

“I’ve already talked about Jacob with the Prince.”

“All official, right? As official as a Primogen meeting can get.”

“And?” Garry asked, narrowing his eyes.

“And, that’s not what you want to hear, is it? What was said in those meetings. I know you and Jacob were friends, sort of. You want to know more about what happened, right? No Carthian was there to fill you in on the details.”

With a heavy snarl, Garry stabbed the knife back into the desk’s corner closest to him, and Jack got ready for a fight. But, nope, Garry stayed sitting, feet still up on the desk as he looked up and stared at the peeling, stained, white paint on the ceiling.

“And what will this information cost?”

“Nothing.”

That got him to take his feet down.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Triss said, “you fucking asshole. Not everything needs to be a transaction.”

“With the Invictus, it does.”

“I’m not here as Invictus,” Jack said. “If I were, I’d be telling you to stay the fuck away from Vicky and Parker’s brothels before Michael retaliates.” It took some doing to not make it a more personal threat. Talking with Garry was always a struggle, like trying to help a wounded animal who didn’t understand you were trying to help, so they kept snapping at you as you tried to undo the trap. It put Jack on edge.

The man laughed and shrugged. “Alright. Lay it on me, kid. What do you want to tell me about that fucker?” And there it was. Garry frowned, voice darkened, and followed his words with a quiet snarl. He wasn’t happy with Jacob.

“That Jacob wasn’t a villain.”

“The fuck are you talking about? He’s dead, right? You and the Prince and that bitch Elaine killed him because he—”

“We killed him, yeah.” Better he think that than knowing Sam did it. “And stopped Black Blood. But, Jacob wasn’t a villain.”

“He stirred up the hornet’s nest on purpose, Jack, and got me and Michael fighting. He got Avery on Maria’s ass, and nearly got her killed.” Her, being Avery. Garry didn’t give a shit about Maria. “And unless I’m wrong, Antoinette was pretty clear Jacob is the reason Avery showed up in the first place, and lost people to the azlu. Jacob—”

“Jacob barely lifted a finger and had you and Michael ready to burn the city down to kill each other and ruin each other’s lives. Don’t put that on Jacob. Yes, he tricked Avery and others to go after Maria, but if Avery had just taken a second to talk to Maria, that wouldn’t have been a problem. And yes, Black Blood lured them here to fight azlu for him, but Avery wants to fight azlu. Her whole pack does. Even if he hadn’t specifically lured her, she’d have happily come.”

Garry raised a brow. “You’re seriously defending him? You?”

“I figure you deserve to know the truth.” Or at least some of it. “Jacob, and even Black Blood, weren’t just a couple of villains trying to fuck everything over. Sure, their goals were selfish, but they wanted to share their goal with everyone. They legitimately wanted to help the whole world, Garry, especially Jacob. Fucked up as it was, twisted as it was, they wanted to help. Hell, Jacob could have killed us at any time, at the end there. He didn’t. He wanted us alive and around when things changed, and I don’t think it was to gloat. He just ... He...”

“Jacob was awesome,” Triss said. “And yeah, he needed to be stopped, but no one walked away from that fight thinking Jacob was some shithole fuckwad, Garry. He was a great guy. Maybe misguided and fucked in the head, I don’t know, but he was a great guy. I miss my boss.”

Garry looked between the two of them, silence heavy in the room. But after a minute to think about it, Garry nodded as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet back up.

“Jacob and I were always strange friends. We agreed on a lot of things, and disagreed on others. He really fucking hated Avery for what Simon did. If I hadn’t talked to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ... if he woulda killed her. Poor guy was really fucked up.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Triss didn’t say anything. Everyone stewed in the shitty reality that Jacob hadn’t been some horrible person, some vile asshole villain who needed to be put down. He was a man who’d been hurt, and saw a way to ‘fix’ that problem for everyone.

“How’s your mom taking it?” Garry asked.

Jack didn’t flinch.

“She’s recovering, pretty fast, too. The whole situation was weird. She really liked Jacob, but he also really helped her ... find herself, I guess. She’s not the same person anymore.” He smiled. “I owe Jacob for some of that.” And his sister for a lot of it, too.

After an awkward laugh, Garry grabbed his knife again and resumed tossing it in one hand, flipping it handle to handle each time.

“You came all this way just to have a chat about Jacob?”

“You’re not that far.”

“Far enough. But don’t think I’m taking this as a favor done, Jack. I don’t owe you anything for this, got it?”

“Got it.”

“But ... thanks, anyway.”

Nodding, Jack got up and made for the door, but stopped.

“Garry.”

“Yeah?”

“You play an instrument?”

“The fuck?”

“He plays a bit of bass,” Triss said as she got up and joined him. “Just a bit.”

Jack nodded, grinning.

“The fuck do you want, Jack?”

Oh boy.

Wincing, Jack forced himself to keep eye contact with Avery. Every time he talked with her, it was more and more obvious the woman was wolf software running on human hardware. He had to treat her like a dangerous animal, and that included not showing signs of weakness.

“Just wanted to check up on the pack.”

Avery grumbled and looked back to her TV. She sat on her couch in her apartment, a couple of her pack nearby watching as well, but it was clear Jack’s arrival had soured things a bit.

No Clara. He looked, but no, she wasn’t around, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’re fine,” Avery said.

“Yeah, you sure sound fine.” Maybe a little bit of his classic cynicism and sarcasm would push the conversation along better.

“You really gonna visit just to get on my bad side? And why’s the witch here?”

“I’m already on your bad side. And Triss is here because she’s my friend.” He smiled at the Nosferatu standing beside him, and she fist-bumped him in return.

“Figured you’d take that Damien dude with you,” Avery said. “He was damn good with a sword.”

“It’s his day off. But that doesn’t matter anyway. I’m here because ... we haven’t really talked much since that night, and—”

“What? That fucking surprises you? Jack, I had to watch that curse thing use your body and kill two of my family. Not to mention nearly kill the rest of us.”

“I know. I just thought—”

“Thought what? That because I got to talk to their ghosts, or souls or whatever, and that Monica and Caleb gave you a pass, that I’m going to stop seeing your face every time I think about how they died?”

Fucking ow. Jack looked down, shaking his head. “I ... I...”

“Fucking bitch,” Triss said. “You just fucking said that wasn’t Jack.”

“I know it wasn’t.” Avery got to her feet and marched up to them. For a little woman, she could march. “And Caleb and Monica told me to not blame you. Hell, they told me to thank you for everything you’ve done. And sure, I’ll do that, I’ll thank you for everything you’ve done, kid. But ... I’m only human.”

“You’re not human,” Triss said.

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. I’m just a fucking person, and ... and I think about Stephanie and Carter, and I’m fucking wrecked. I think about Monica and Caleb, and I’m fucking wrecked. But at least with Steph and Carter, I get to have my revenge. I hunt and I kill those fucking abominations and have for a fucking century. But ... Monica and Caleb? All I can see when I think about them, is that Ripper asshole wearing Jack’s skin.”

Heavy silence, even worse than with Garry.

“Yeah, I get you.” Nodding, Jack turned and reached for the doorknob. “Sorry. I thought—”

Avery put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around.