Chapter 24

~~Welcome to the world of Vampire: the Requiem~~

~~Two weeks later~~

~~Jack~~

He was in love. In love. He was in love he was in love.

Words failed him. He tried to capture the feeling he had in his chest, but love just seemed to come up short. No matter how hard he dug into the depths of his soul, he couldn’t find some word to represent the blissful pain in his heart.

God Jack, you’re becoming a fucking poet. He laughed and shook his head. Julias could have come up with something, something powerful and stirring, sobering but uplifting. Something undoubtedly cliche.

“Something amusing?” Antoinette said.

“Nope. No not a thing. Just ... thinking.”

It’d been two weeks since they exchanged words. Two weeks since he’d told the ancient, deadly, Daeva Prince of the city that he loved her. Two weeks since she said it back.

And he spent most of that time in her tower. Even now he sat upon the black, silk sheets of her massive bed, deep in the underground fortress of her tower basement, her next to him. He’d visited Julias the next day of course, after Antoinette and him confessed to each other. He had to tell someone, and his sire was his best friend. And his boss. Julias had given him clearance to spend time away from the job, away from money management, resource allocation, contracts, shady deals, all the Xnomina stuff. Some time to get to know his love better. A honeymoon, sort of.

His love. His love. Still didn’t do it justice.

He snuggled against the back of the beautiful, white-haired woman. He was behind her, spooning against her, while the much taller, curvy vampire was leaning over a book, head propped up on her fist, elbow to the bed.

The two of them were naked, and on top of the blankets. No risk of being cold, vampires and all that. And, with the blush of life not on, their pale skin was in no risk of suddenly arousing. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to the gorgeous Daeva, just that he physically didn’t want to have sex with her right that instant.

Which was good, because they’d had sex almost constantly for the past fourteen days. Any time Jack even looked Antoinette’s way, she pinned him, and did things to him. Poor Ashley and Julee, unable to participate in their mistress’s play; Antoinette and Jack drank them both dry during the past two weeks, thrice. The two girls spent most of the time asleep and exhausted, and if not for a ghoul’s ability to regenerate, they’d have died from blood loss. Course they enjoyed it, the Kiss was pleasurable. But then the two were basically unconscious while Antoinette and Jack had fun.

Fun was not the right word. They made love. Love. Love...

He leaned in over her, reached out with his free hand to pull her hair back, and kissed her neck.

“Mmm.” Her voice sent a chill down his spine, but it also warmed him at the same time. Her devious, powerful, confident smile, her red eyes that cut through him when she turned to look at him. “Again, my little Ventrue?”

“No. No I uh ... well, I mean if you want.”

“I do believe my lust has been sated. For now.”

There was a sternness to her words, even when she flirted. A bite, something dangerous that made him shiver. Even now, after all they’d been through, he was still afraid of her. A little afraid, at least.

Antoinette turned over onto her back. Naked, smiling, she ran one of her feet up and down her other leg with a teasing toe, and with her further arm, reached across to touch his. He was still on his side, pressed up against her, nuzzled into her arm and leg.

Ashley and Julee were gone today. They had lives of their own, despite their servitude to the mistress. University lives, according to Antoinette. He wondered what sort of classes they took, but as his mind drifted, a finger and thumb against his chin guided him back to look down at the woman before him.

So. God. Damn. Beautiful. She was smiling at him, meeting his gaze with her own, with subtle shifts and grins of the eye. His hand reached up for her neck, her chin and cheeks, his fingertips lightly caressed the shape of her face, and her smile remained.

No words. No god damn fucking words for the feelings.

His hand walked down her neck and collar, and down along her sternum between her breasts. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t really, really into her huge breasts, the way their mass pulled to the sides of her ribcage, the way her dark nipples contrasted against her pale skin. No blush of life, so everything was a little less ... lively. But he’d gotten used to seeing a dead thing in the mirror, and dead or not, Antoinette was beautiful.

And the most amazing part was how she let him. She just smiled, purred, and combed her hair over her shoulder with one hand as his fingers danced down her flat stomach, wide hips, her slender waist, long curvy legs. Even as his fingers teased over her bare mons, between her thighs, and back up along her waist, she only smiled; grinned a little too. If he wasn’t careful, he’d provoke the playful feline and be quickly reminded that she was a tiger, not a house cat to pet.

He never did know when to quit. His fingers drifted up to her breasts, and he slid them underneath where the nearest one was flattened to her ribs with its weight. He cupped it, let the soft mass spill over his palm and fingers, and offered a couple of gentle, massaging squeezes. Fingers drifted up to her nipple, and he traced her areola with a slow touch, before he reached out to cup her further breast and do the same. He stared at how the weight of it made it shift and flow, jiggle lightly when he nudged it with a little more force, and how, despite its weight flattening it to her body, it was still full of volume and shape.

She had enormous breasts.

Each touch along her body was tempting fate. Would she pounce him now? Later? Pin him and do things to him? Threaten him with delights for tomorrow night? Or torture him sexually for crossing a line? He shivered with the memories. He was playing with fire, touching her so directly, obviously, without even asking. But she liked it when he did that, even as she apparently loved to punish him for it too.

But, for now, she did nothing. He shifted around a little to get in the nook of her arm and body, underneath her shoulder, and set his head against her chest above her breast. With his body still against her side, him on his side, his free hand held her waist, and hugged her close as he buried himself in her.

With one of her arms now behind him, her fingers drifted up and down his back, and danced along his spine before stroking his buzzed hair.

“You return to work tonight, do you not?” she said.

“Yeah. I ... really don’t want to. Madam Turio will—”

“Maria will keep her claws to herself, or I will rip out her innards and feed her the ashes.”

Jack gulped on nothing. A split moment of ice in the ancient Daeva’s eyes, and then gone a moment later as she smiled, and pushed Jack onto his back. Positions reversed, she was the one cuddling into his side, him lying down on his spine. Being much taller than him, she leaned over him, pressed her heavy breasts into his chest, and planted a kiss on his nose.

“I do not lie,” she said. “Maria knows her place. And besides, little Ventrue, she does not know you are the one who killed Lucas. She assumes it was I, or my sheriff, and that is an assumption she should continue to make.” Her hands drifted up and down his body, same as he had her, caressing fingers teasing along the indentions of his small, lean body, his abs, and down his legs before tickling back up to his chin. Each touch sent more shivers up his spine as she made the smallest growl.

The beast inside him trembled underneath hers, but at the same time, welcomed her.

And she knew it too. She put her lips to his ear, and sneaked soft kisses along his earlobe while her hand circled his navel. He dared not move, not when she was in this mood, unless he wanted to upset the ancient Prince. And he liked her in this mood.

Two steps away from a BDSM kink here, Jack. Nothing wrong with that though. Being tied up and at Antoinette’s mercy? He basically was every night anyway. It was a far cry from whips and chains, but that didn’t change that he was a slave to the whim of an erotic, deadly predator every time he stepped into her tower. And he loved it.

“Tomorrow night, I expect you to be here once more, two hours after dusk.” The Prince sat up, still leaning over him, and with one hand holding up her weight, traced invisible circles around his nipples with the other.

“Oh? Something important?”

“Not important, no. But Ashley and Julee are quite sad, and upset. They are my pets, but also my friends, and have had little contact with me as of late. So they shall be there as well.”

Oh. He nodded, and tried to hide his smile. The girls were fun, in many ways.

“But,” she said, “while it is a Daeva’s nature to favor and covet who they drink from, a Ventrue has no such need. And I would not be offended if you were to feed on strangers more often, my Jack. My pets need respite.” Fingers found his chin, and stroked it with teasing nails. “Though I do ask that you do not sleep with your prey. While other elder Kindred may not hold sex in such import, I do feel it serves as a bond between us.”

“Definitely, I ... definitely. I mean, I uh ... can’t really imagine wanting to sleep with anyone else, in any circumstance.”

“I did not expect us to spend many nights together, and for my pets to enjoy you as much as I.” She laughed, nodded, and slipped her finger into his mouth enough to pluck at his bottom lip. “I am elated, and would prefer you remain mine in affairs of the bedroom, and mine alone.” Another pat on the chin, and then she was up and off the bed. She reached for the corner of the huge mattress, plucked her silk robe — always silk — from the edge, and slipped it on with a casual but practiced flare. She didn’t tie it up though, but stood there, the hem of the robe against the sides of her exposed breasts. And when he looked her up and down, cause god damn he had to, she smirked.

“So, I um ... guess we’re different than what most vampires do?”

“Perhaps in some cities, controlled by other Princes. In Dolareido, I do hope to encourage physical pleasures as much as other joys.” And finally, with a tiny flick of her wrist he barely noticed, she pulled the robe over her and tied it before moving toward the door. “For now, I have business to attend to. I do expect to see you tomorrow night, Mister Terry.”

He nodded, and scampered around for his clothes. “I’ll be here! Definitely.”

“And ... you should speak with Damien at some point, my little Ventrue.”

He froze; bad timing. He fell over onto his knee and shoulder with one leg in his pants.

“ ... yeah, I should.”

Xnomina. A black tower, monolithic, and strong. He stepped through the glass doors into the lobby, offered a nod to Madam Jenning, and made his way to the elevator in the back. Top floor. Every time he pressed it, the cold metal gave him a little shock, a jolt of memory he didn’t want.

The first night he’d ever seen the inside of the building, the elevator, that number pressed, the first night he’d fed on a human. Mrs. Pavala. Her dead eyes staring.

He shook it off, pushed the memories down, and waited. Hard to keep memories from running through the mind while waiting in an elevator though, and he grumbled as he started to pace. He’d managed to keep the ugly thoughts away when he was with Antoinette, but now that he was in the tower again, they crawled out of the grave to haunt him.

Haunting memories. Other Kindred suffered manias of all sorts as they aged decades, often caused by the memories permanently scarred into their minds. Try to let it go, or you’ll become just like Damien.

When the ding announced his arrival, he shook his shoulders again, and walked into the meeting room.

The triumvirate. The council. The heads of the Invictus. He’d heard other names too, from the other Invictus neonates. The brains of the operation. The voices from on high. The overlords. A strange mix of respect and typical employee annoyance for their superiors; far better than at a typical job, at least. Xnomina was a company in good condition, despite Viktor’s death.

He shivered. Now was not the time to remember Viktor; standing in front of the triumvirate was bad enough. He was happy his sire had replaced Viktor, but Michael considered him nothing more than an ant, and Maria probably even less. Probably a traitor, considering his relationship with the Prince.

But his relationship with her was purely romantic. He had no secrets of the Invictus to give her, and she gave him none of the Ordo Dracul’s. A good arrangement really; he didn’t want to get torn apart by the two covenants. If Michael and Maria continued to think of him as nothing more than the Prince’s boy toy, all the better.

“Master Terry.” Julias nodded to him. Maria and Michael were standing beside him, but their attention was elsewhere, namely at the devices in their hand. Like always. A neonate wasn’t worth their time.

“Mister Mire. Mister McDonald. Madam Turio.” He bowed to each, and they offered a subtle nod in return. Titles and formalities, the language of the Invictus.

Julias opened his mouth, but as he raised a hand, the elevator outside dinged.

Jack raised a brow and glanced over his shoulder. Amanda Pol stepped out from the elevator, though as she noticed the door to the main meeting room was open, she squeaked, looked down, and scampered into the room to stand next to Jack.

Amanda was a very thin creature, and as tall as Jack. A black woman with long black hair, a petite frame and shape, and a soft face. The two of them looked pathetic in their suits compared to the three Kindred before them.

“Miss Pol,” Maria said. Snarled.

Amanda shrunk.

Julias sighed and shook his head. “Miss Pol, I’m glad you could arrive before this meeting ended.”

Jack hid his grin, but he managed a quick glance at Julias to catch his gaze. Jack was better at this than her, and Julias knew it.

“Please excuse my tardiness, Mister Mire! Madam Turio. Mister McDonald. Sire Jenning had—”

Julias raised a hand and waved it aside. “Save your excuses and your apologies. I understand you normally deal with Madam Jenning, but we are the council. Be on time or you will be disciplined.”

And she shrunk again. Jack could see the slightest hint of a grin on Julias’s lips though. His sire was doing his best to save her from said discipline, rather than threatening her with it. Viktor wouldn’t have bothered with a warning.

“You two have been handling many of our contracts and dealings with Xnomina.” McDonald, barbarian in a suit, stepped forward and started to pace with hands in the small of his back. “But, it is time for you to earn your titles in the field.”

“In the field sir?”

“Yes. We’ve had reports of disappearances in the South East corner of South Side.” McDonald brought up a hand to the giant touch screen wall, and exposed the overhead camera shot of the entire city. Satellite imagery, terrifying. “Here.”

“That’s ... Devil’s Corner, sir.” Jack squinted at the map, and shuddered a little. “I assumed disappearances were normal.” It wasn’t a place he’d ever been; his mother had expressly forbid it. Prostitution and drug use were rampant, and not the high class, devil-in-a-suit type found in his current place of abode in South Side. Devil’s Corner was on the corner of Carthian and Invictus territory, and neither covenant wanted it. Sort of neutral territory, in a way.

“The devil’s in the details.” Julias tapped the side of his nose once, and took a stand beside McDonald. A small wave of his hand, a few taps, and he brought up police reports. Classified material. “The area’s fairly wide, a five mile radius, the whole of the Corner. And with each disappearance, there’s been ... marks.”

“Marks, Sire?”

“Yes, police reports indicate that many of these sites have had odd slash marks on nearby walls, or the asphalt.” Julias glanced back over at Maria, but the ghost woman said nothing. “It could be a vampire that has succumbed to the beast, and are no longer capable of escaping its frenzied hunger. Or it could be a serial killer with a strange modus operandi.”

“We are unsure.” McDonald swiped the screen, and pictures appeared. Slash marks indeed, and far thicker than a sword could cause.

Amanda opened her mouth, but one quick glance from Jack got her to close it. He knew what she was thinking, what everyone was already probably thinking. A Gangrel like Jessy could make claw marks like that. But if she said it, McDonald was liable to tear Amanda’s head off.

“Investigate.” Julias sat down at the table edge again, and made a sweeping gesture. “Find out what’s happening, find who’s behind these disappearances. If they’re human, find out how they’re making the marks, then you may do what you wish.”

Do what they wish? Jack made a tiny frown and looked down. He didn’t like the idea of a human going around kidnapping people and killing them; so Julias was offering him the option to stop them. He could do that. Play the hero role for once, could be just what the soul needed.

“But, if they are Kindred, report back to Jessy. She’ll handle the investigation from there as she sees fit.” McDonald nodded, gave his own dismissing wave, and sat back down to resume gazing at his tablet.

Julias nodded, and gave Jack a wink. “Speak to Ricardo if you need supplies. Dismissed.”

Both neonates returned the nod, bowed, and left.

Once the door was closed behind them, they both looked at each other, and took deep, unneeded-but-relaxing-anyway breaths. Amanda hit the button for the elevator, and they waited.

“So, working together,” Jack said. “Guess we’ll get to know each other.”

“Y-yeah ... I guess.”

And as typical for talking with the other neonates, they got nervous. Being the boyfriend of the Prince made conversation difficult, and being the childe of a council member didn’t help; every attempt was met with anxiety and defensiveness. He was getting sick of it.

“Look, Miss Pol ... Amanda, just treat me like what I am, ok? A neonate, like you. Younger at that. My relationship with the Prince and Julias is of no consequence.”

Amanda eyed him, squinted, and looked him up and down.

“ ... no consequence?”

“No consequence. The Prince would dump me in a heartbeat if I used our relationship as a way of bullying you, or vying for a promotion.” Probably. Maybe. Maybe not. “So, I mean, unless you plan to literally stab me in the back, you’re good to say or do whatever, ok?” He offered a nod and a smile, just a small one; wasn’t good at the big, powerful ones like Julias. But a little could go a long way.

Amanda returned it, and nodded. “So ... Jack.” Struggled to say his name, instead of Master Terry. Cute. “Um, how has your unlife been treating you?”

Uh, god. Small talk. Shoot him now. Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Fine Amanda, just fine.” Ding. The elevator doors opened, and the two little neonates stepped into the cage of awkward conversation.

Well, maybe not so awkward.

“I loved the part at the end where Rick breaks down and starts crying on Villa’s knees. So romantic, how that hard, stone man breaks when he finally realizes he’s got her back. You can see the lifetime of anger and hardships melt away!” Amanda hugged herself, and swooned. Audibly.

“I am a sucker for a good romance.” Jack nodded, and rounded the corner of the next street.

The lovely nights of Dolareido. Not exactly lovely tonight, with the growing heat and humidity; not a problem for a Kindred though. The people, on the other hand, looked worn out, sweating, and struggling to keep up their usual pace as the heatwave rendered even the nighttime air unpleasant. It meant lighter suits, often with the jackets off, and women wearing far skimpier dresses, backs exposed and cleavage as well. Even the pimps were taking it easy, sitting around in the outdoor seating of restaurants, smoking cigars and having pleasant conversation with their near-nude employees.

“I’m surprised! You’re a guy. Guys aren’t into romance.”

“Hey now, unfair. I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leaned toward her a little as they walked, and lowered his voice a touch. “Guys love romance stories too, just not when it’s self-indulgent garbage.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well ... you know how a lot of guys enjoy movies that are nothing but explosions, car chases, and gunfights?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re pretty awful, yeah? Just testosterone candy in movie form.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you can do the same thing with romance. Page one, introduce your two characters destined to be together. Page two through five hundred, have them be drawn to each other with attraction, desire, emotion, and have the writer throw every possible hurdle you can think of to make it so their relationship seems doomed and impossible. Have them get together in the end. Bam, you have the same idiotic, indulgent crap as a movie that’s nothing but explosions, just of the romance flavor instead of action flavor.”

Amanda blinked at him, and he smirked. He did love a good rant, and he loved it more when people actually bothered to listen. In love with the sound of his own voice, such a Ventrue trait.

“So On Morrow’s Break is—”

“Not garbage, because it has a combination of action and romance, and also quality pacing, introspection, meaningful character growth, and events that aren’t just formulaic cliches.” He laughed when she smiled, his whispering voice gone. “So yeah, I loved that scene too. It had weight.”

Some people glanced at them a few times as they walked by, but it passed. Just a young guy and girl on a stroll through Dolareido, middle of the night, wearing suits and looking quite dashing. Jackets on, to hide their shoulder holsters, pistol, some magazines, and a huge knife. Unlikely Jack would ever use them, given his Ventrue approach; words over violence. Powerful words.

But while the two Kindred kept their jackets on, the kine didn’t. And as they got further and further into the darker shadow of Dolareido, the clothes people wore changed. Less dress shoes, more sneakers. Less suits, more jeans. And as they went deeper, less shirts, more men shirtless and women in tiny tank tops. Pawn shops with bars on the windows, police sirens for background noise, and instead of restaurants with outdoor eating areas, convenience stores with parking lots and loiterers.

Soon, where people barely noticed the two little vampires in suits before, now everyone noticed them.

Amanda leaned over to him as they walked under the streetlights. “Think maybe ... we didn’t dress appropriately.”

“Can you hide us?”

“No. It’ll be years before I can hide us when we’re out in the open like this. But, let’s find a dark place, and I can.”

With a nod, the two neonates turned a corner between two buildings, only five feet apart, and went into the darkness. Where his neighborhood’s streetlights were in pristine condition, and the buildings had plenty of space, tall as they were, in the dark alley of Devil’s Corner the buildings were near each other, cramped, and only one light over a handleless door was lit. A couple people were sitting, torn jeans, sneakers with the toes worn open, tattoos of guns and faces on their shoulders, and a couple of fake-silver chain-link necklaces.

They looked at him and Amanda, shrugged, and returned to their conversation about music. A band he recognized!

“I love Russel’s voice.” Jack stepped up to the two strangers, men, probably in their thirties, and smiled at them. “That power! Oh god the compression he can put on his voice? That cord closure too! Fucking shivers every time I hear it.”

They blinked at him, looked him and his suit up and down, and said nothing. Jack looked to Amanda, and she blinked at him the same way, and said nothing. Nothings all around.

“I uh ... nevermind.” Chuckling, scratching his buzzed hair, he managed a shrug and kept walking down the alley. He needed to find another metal music lover to talk about this shit with, later.

Once down the alley where it met with the other buildings that formed the block, they were in almost complete darkness. Good enough for Amanda. He could feel the blood change, but as subtly as a light breeze on the hairs of his skin. Not noticeable unless you were looking for it. The cloak of night.

She put her hand on his shoulder, gave him a nod, and pointed up. He reached out for a windowsill and climbed. The thrill of strength, of power coursing through his dried veins, of the balance and animal instinct to pull his weight up and balance. One foot on the window bars, one foot up high onto the metal beam of what was once an alley light, he pushed higher. A glance behind him showed Amanda was following suit.

Once they ran out of things to brace their feet down against, they had to reach out to the wall across, both hands. Two feet against one wall, two hands against the other, they crawled up the walls like spiders, until they were twelve floors up. No fear, none at all. They could fall, and the worse they’d get is a broken leg they could heal in minutes.

So god damn awesome.

Once he got his fingers onto the roof, he pulled himself up, crouched low, and poked his head out to look over the street. One of the taller buildings in Devil’s Corner, they could see out and into the nightlife below, the shitty lights flashing horrible signs for bars, brothels — illegal, but still blatant — and everything in between. People walked, chatted, and breezed right on by without hesitation as cop cars with sirens blasting drove past. Just a night in the life of Devil’s Corner.

There were worse places in the world, far worse, but he had to admit, he much preferred his life of high class. If he had to dine on the kine on a regular basis, he preferred the cocaine addicts to the disease ridden.

Disease ridden. Sounding awfully judgmental and full of yourself, Jack. Ventrue side showing through a little more than you’d like.

Amanda squatted down beside him on the roof, and looked out over Devil’s Corner.

“You’re ... kind of nice,” she said.

He quirked a brow. “I uh ... what?”

“Nice. I don’t know, after learning you and the Prince were an item, I thought you’d be scarier. And then after ... after I ... came back from the Lancea et Sanctum, I thought you’d...”

“That I’d criticize?”

“Well yeah.”

“Antoi—the Prince told me the underground network, that section of it that Tony used, that Lucas took over, was some sort of special ... thing. A wyrm’s nest, with magical mystic jumbo happening there. Made people very subservient, easily controlled. Hence, Tony’s brood. Hence, Lucas’s brood. Hence, his control over you.” He shrugged and looked out over the city below, to the police tape blocking off an alley a few blocks down. The wyrmn’s nest, whatever that meant, had been destroyed and collapsed since then, nothing to worry about.”We should—”

Her hand grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him down so he stayed next to her. “It ... it wasn’t just ... that.” Eyes down and lip trembling, she shook her head so her long hair fell over her near-obsidian skin, until Jack had to lean out a little ways to see her eyes. “He said a lot of things that make sense.”

“Lucas?”

“Yeah! And Bishop Damien,” she said. Good thing she couldn’t see his eye twitch at the name. “They ... they talked about god, and the origins of vampires, and our purpose. A lot of it ... rang true, you know? Maybe not all of it, maybe Lucas got a little zealous, but Damien talked about ... finding your purpose in God’s plan.”

Finding your purpose. Jack grit his teeth, and turned his gaze back to the street below. They were still wrapped in her cloak of night, so he could talk and move, as long as he stayed near her, and they didn’t get out into the open lights or close to people. Good enough for him to vent a little.

“A lot of circumstantial evidence, a lot of hearsay, a lot subjectivity, and a lot of blind concepts like faith. You’re talking to the wrong person about this, Amanda, I’m a scientist at heart. Got some evidence you want to talk about, or maybe analyze some deduced reasoning? I’m there. Want to talk about what you feel”—he air quoted—”and what you know in your soul, and your heart”—more air quotes—”then you should talk to Damien.”

A long sigh from her made Jack wince, and he stuck out his hand to touch hers.

“Sorry,” he said, “I uh ... threw that impression you had of me right back to where it was, didn’t I?”

“No, no. You’re honest, and direct. I like that.” Another smile from her, and a little warmer too.

Flirting? She couldn’t be flirting, girls did not flirt with Jack, he wasn’t Julias.

“So, you a devout believer?” he said.

“I ... don’t know? With Lucas, it was easy to believe I was. Now, I guess I’m just agnostic.”

“Ah, me too.”

“You too? Thought you said you were a scientist.”