Chapter 3

The next week went by in a blur. Jack couldn’t have imagined the amount of details he’d have to learn just to get a grasp for his new world, or the amount of work he’d have to do to be able to make his old life gone.

The first night was spent organizing enough hints to suggest to his family that he’d been killed, and that there was no body to find. Vague bits of evidence left that lead to reports of kidnapping and murders. He’d watched his family during the night then, through windows and from trees. He watched them monitor the news with crying eyes, and watched them hug each other until they crumbled.

He never thought of himself as a family man, but seeing his mom die a little inside nearly broke his resolve. Thrice, his sire had to stop him from walking in on his family and proclaiming he was still alive. He was allowed only one trip to his tombstone, lest he risk someone recognizing him.

During all this, he was haunted by the face of Mrs. Pavala. Julias told him to accept it and move on, that he had to work past it. Don’t look up any pictures of her family. Don’t look into how her husband’s doing. Don’t stare at that one picture of her the news had of when she was smiling. Of course he did all these things, and slowly dug himself a hole that took every bit of energy he had to dig himself out of.

It was a painful couple weeks of misery and self loathing. Every brooding cliche he could think of, he experienced. Staring in the mirror, breaking dishes, crying over photos of his family, and everything in between. But, with a little time, the pain faded.

Next, he had to learn about being a Kindred.

“Normally,” Julias said, “when you want to drink someone, or Kiss them as we call it, you can either subdue them physically or use your disciplines.”

“Disciplines?”

“Abilities of the blood. You’ll learn about those later.”

The two of them were walking around outside, middle of the night, in a graveyard nearest Julias’s place. It was a rich person’s graveyard, with everything in a neat row and all the mausoleums in prime condition. Even the fence that surrounded the place was massive, Gothic, and well maintained.

“So I can just ... pin someone down?”

“Indeed.” Julias made a grabbing motion with his arms. “You can hold someone easily, and then bite into them. Control yourself, control them, and they will succumb to the Kiss. It will immediately sap their energy.”

“Like ... a snake bite.”

“No. The Kiss will not only be the best feeling you’ve ever had, but if you do it gently, it can be amazing for the person you bite too.”

“ ... come again?”

Julias came over to him, hands in pockets, and walked side-by-side with him between the tombstones. “Romantic vampire trash novels? Not entirely unfounded. A kine — human — being Kissed is more or less trapped in a state of orgasmic bliss, if you do it subtly. Gently.”

“Oh. That...” As much as his last feeding experience still left haunting pain in his gut, he had to admit the idea of a pleasurable vampire bite was rather enticing.

“Make no mistake, a Kindred lives for the Kiss. A hundred years from now, it will be the thing that makes you wake up for night, spawn an empire, have a harem of ghouls, and much more.”

“Are you serious? I’m dealing with people like Viktor, gods basically, who are motivated only by their hunger?”

Julias chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. It got under Jack’s skin, and Julias knew it. He’d make sure to find a way to get Julias back later.

“When you’ve got a proper taste for the Kiss, you’ll understand. The Prince rules Dolareido, hundreds of Kindred, with an iron fist and an unbreakable will, because it means she gets to live a long life filled with the Kiss.” Julias leaned back onto a tombstone and put his hands against it to balance himself. “I know your first time was horrible, and a blur, but when it’s done right, it ... makes this unlife worth it, Jack. It really does.

“Someday even, you may have your own ghoul. A person you can feed on whenever you want.” He grinned a knowing grin at Jack, and the small Ventrue quirked a brow at him.

“Ghoul?”

“When you have the strength to hold one, you can feed your blood to a human, one who is healthy and alive. They will, as long as you continue to feed them regularly, no longer age. They’ll be stronger, faster for it, and they’ll be your loyal servant. A Kindred-blood-addicted servant.”

“I’m ... not sure I’d want a blood-addicted servant.”

Julias nodded back at him and stroked at his chin. “Me neither. I’ve never created a ghoul. When you’re strong enough to take care of yourself, don’t think you can’t have one just because I don’t. Just make sure to talk to me first. They’re not only very valuable tools, but they can be good friends too.”

“You sound like you know some ghouls.”

“I do. So do you.”

“I do?”

“Indeed. You may even see some you recognize at the ball tomorrow.”

“Ball? Ball what ball? You never said anything about a ball.”

“The ball I’m taking you to tomorrow.” Julias chuckled and winked at him. His sire was a nice guy, but manipulation and deceit came to him as second nature.

“I’m going to a ball?”

“Yeap.”

“ ... to a ball.”

“Yeap.”

“You mean a suit, dresses, appetizers—”

“Hors d’oeuvres.”

“Whatever! With ... with all the politics and nuance I don’t get?”

“Yeap.”

Jack ran his fingers over his buzzed head with a sigh. If there was one way he was going to get himself killed, it was saying something he shouldn’t at a ball.

“I look ridiculous,” Jack said.

“You look like a Ventrue, my good man. A small one, but a Ventrue nonetheless.”

Jack frowned at his sire. They were walking down that same old street, the one that connected to his friend’s apartment complex. The city was way too crowded, even at this time of night, for his sire to bother with a car. A cab was the only viable means of travel.

That or jumping along rooftops, which was perfectly doable to two vampires. Just not good for the rather fancy suits they were wearing. Suits made for a ball, not for business.

“Should I be wearing a mask or something?”

“It’s a ball for ... it’s a cocktail party,” Julias said.

“You most definitely do not wear suits like this to a cocktail party. It’s practically a wedding tuxedo. I think I can feel the souls of the hundred slaves who sacrificed their lives to sew this thing with their blood.”

“That’s how you know it’s quality. Come on.” His sire only smiled at him as he waved down a taxi. “So do you know how to speak at the party?”

“You mean ... don’t?”

“Haha, well ... yeah, I guess. It’s probably a good idea for you to simply not, unless someone talks to you. Viktor, you may greet as Your Excellency, like in the meeting. Maria and Michael, greet as My Lady Turio and My Lord McDonald. Pay attention to how other Invictus talk with each other, and you’ll start picking up on the titles. It’s a game, with rules and implications that you’re good at figuring out.”

“But ... there are so many other Kindred. I didn’t even meet the rest of the circle, and—”

“Viktor, Maria and Michael are a triumvirate. They each have their right and left hands if you will, and many of them have freshly embraced to care for, such as yourself to me. Just stick by me, and you will be introduced to others. To others of similar rank as myself, address as Most Admirable Mister or Madam surname. To others who are young like yourself, you may address as Master or Miss surname. If referring to them but not speaking directly at them, add The at the start of their title.”

“Mister or Madam for people like you, Master or Miss for people like me. Ok, ok.”

“As for people outside the Invictus who are visiting, well...” Julias shrugged and, once a cab had pulled up, he opened the door and stepped in, with Jack to follow. “To the Fall Palace my good man.” The cab driver nodded and started driving without a sound. Apparently this was normal for him. Jack took a moment to look at him with scrutiny.

“Wait, others? Other co—, er, groups will be visiting?”

“You may speak freely. George works for Maria. He knew when to pick us up.”

The human gave a small salute, but otherwise kept driving.

“Oh. Ok, well, um ... others? Like, Carthians or Crones?”

“The Circle of the Crone has very few members, and never meddle in our affairs. Invictus run this city, with only the Carthians as a thorn in our side, so we invite Garry to our balls to encourage him to join us, or at least mend bridges. Other cities often have a much more violent relationship between the Invictus and Carthians. We do not want that.

“The Prince and her sheriff are of course, also invited,” he added.

“Oh shit. Antoinette and ... Daniel.” Jack shivered in his seat. His sire’s sire’s boss, and her hitman. Julias had sewed a few stories of the nasty hits Daniel had done on unruly Kindred.

“We pay her every courtesy. She lets us run the city, even as she stands as Prince. We dare not risk offending her as she does very little to impede us, and only controls the Kindred in the city to preserve the Masquerade. When she gave Viktor permission for the Invictus to sire someone, he gave that right to me, and I then had to ask her for it personally.”

“Hoops! So many hoops, Julias! Oh fuck, fucking ... ugh.” The small boy leaned his head down and put his elbows to his knees. How was he going to manage all this? One wrong word and he’d be exiled or executed or worse. He couldn’t imagine worse, but he was sure there was worse.

“Refer to her as Your Excellency as well, and you’ll be fine. Come on, you got this.”

The explanations continued. Minor details that he would never remember, but he knew that just hearing them beforehand meant catching onto it faster once he was in the wolf’s den. Jack prayed he’d fine another Kindred his own age, someone he could confide in, someone he could open his mouth to and not risk immediate death. Fat chance.

Very fat chance. The building was something out of the Victorian age. It was a ballroom. A genuine ballroom, complete with a ludicrously massive chandelier, classic paintings of godly figures on the walls, and red-lined chairs on the sides of the immensely tall walls. To its end, two staircases curved upward and joined into a balcony.

Even more intimidating were the people. They were all dressed in clothes that looked like a strange combination of the past and the future. Suits were both fashionable but honorable. Dresses were both frilly and long, but also revealing and sexy. He figured at least a hundred people were standing around, talking with each other over the quiet music of some classical composer he did not know.

Nearly every one of them was a vampire, and the beast in his chest cowered at the sight of it all.

How could there have been so many vampires in Dolareido? And all of them were Invictus. He recognized members of each blood clan, and as he gazed over them, they looked back at him with inspecting eyes. Too many eyes. He found himself paralyzed in the opening archway of the ballroom, suddenly with no idea where to put his hands. A hundred hungry, deadly predators were looking right at him, and more than one of them had that same downcast in their eyes that Viktor and his partners had.

He was just a little minnow in a tank full of piranha.

“Presenting Mister Julias Mire, and childe Master Jack Terry.” A man to the side called out his title to the crowd, complete with a smart phone in his hand. Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had been carrying a parchment of guest names instead.

“Mister Mire! How good of you to join us.” A man, all too similar in Julias in build except for his long, black hair. Another man straight out of a mafia film.

“Mister Vanna. I am glad to see your business venture has gone well. Might I introduce Master Terry, my childe.”

Jack gulped, but managed to make a small bow.

“Master Terry. Fresh to the fold I see? I am delighted to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Most Admirable Mister Vanna.” He stood straight again, and raised his head only long enough to glance to Vanna’s eyes. The other Invictus was smiling, and even gave him a wink. He could breathe, or at least would if a vampire needed to. Habits die hard.

“Has the Prince arrived?” Julias asked.

“Fret not, you are safe, the guest of honor should be arriving momentarily though. Come, I bore of this dillydallying. Let us talk business.”

And they were off. Jack did his best to stay behind his sire, but the dancing bodies and the swaying dresses and the lovely music were all such a strange contrast to the reality of it all that he found himself distracted. Maria, he saw in the distance, was not some frightful ghost haunting and killing, but instead wore a white dress that was both long and elegant, and even weirder, the scary Nosferatu was talking with other Kindred. He could tell some of them found the ghost woman unsettling, but they talked to her nonetheless. It was a den of monsters.

He half expected to find a dining table with a naked woman’s body on it, and drink taps plugged into her wrists.

A group of men and women were circled in the center of the floor, and of them Jack recognized the other of the inner circle, Michael. He too was wearing a beautiful suit that was odd to see on so beastly a man. They were chatting, using words in contexts he did not understand. Angel? Red book? Monomacy? Valea? He dared not ask anyone, but if he could remember to ask Julias later, maybe he could get somewhere.

There were other freshly embraced as well. Paiges of their Invictus sires like him, so he was told. They were nervous too, but many of them stood side by side with their sires, instead of behind. Most were tall, proud looking, with great bodies and intelligent eyes. They were doing as he was, absorbing information, saying less than they knew so as to never leave an opening, and to always find a step up without exposing their flank.

Even the kids were learning to dance the Danse.

“Mister Mire. Welcome.”

Jack froze, but forced himself to look in the direction of the voice. Viktor came walking down from the balcony, and many of the party stopped talking to look to him.

He was a king and a tyrant in a suit. The black ensemble looked like something one would wear to an opera, but with the streamlined adaptations of the future. He knew Viktor to be a powerful, old beast, and guessed someone else had picked his wardrobe. They’d done their job well, as what might as well have been an emperor stepped down to join them. Viktor, like many of the Ventrue, was tall and well built, and his long black hair was tied into a ponytail. Jack could not have felt more out of place with his buzzed head.

“Alder Viktor, I am glad to have made it. I see Mister Tones of the Carthians has joined us,” Julias said, and made motion to the one Viktor had been talking to on the balcony. It was for Jack’s sake more than anyone else’s, and Jack thanked his sire with a small nod before looking up to see the man. Garry Tones did not look good in a suit, and was clearly uncomfortable, but just a glance at him made Jack nervous. He was normal height, shaved head, with a hard jaw and a fighter’s body. The Gangrel leader of the Carthians looked like he was raised fighting on the streets.

Jack expected dynamite to have longer patience than Garry, by the looks of him.

“Mister Tones and I were discussing the growing incidence of our neonates becoming violent with each other. Conflicts are to be expected. Violence that is a blatant threat to the Masquerade is to be punished.”

“Of course, Alder Viktor, I—”

“I know you to be of sound mind, Mister Mire, as well as Mister Vanna. You, my Master Terry, are you of sound mind? Would you thoughtlessly pick fights with a random Carthian, in hopes of boast?”

Viktor, Julias, and Vanna all looked at him expectantly. It wasn’t just the four of them that were silent, nearby Invictus were listening and watching now too, and Jack found himself the center of attention of at least thirty members, even paiges who glanced between each other in shock. Apparently, his predicament was unique.

“ ... Your Excellency, I would not stir trouble that was not worth its price, and nothing is worth risking the Masquerade,” Jack said, and dared not raise his eyes above Viktor’s shoes.

The other Invictus smiled and nodded to each other, and Viktor, if the movement of his shoes was any indication, seemed pleased by Jack’s response. He used the correct address to his superior, he upheld the value of the Masquerade, and he made it in the context of business. Point for you, Jack.

“Well spoken Master Terry. The Invictus do not waste resources on pointless acts of pride. The First Estate was not built on juvenile jousts.” He gave a nod, and went on his way. The crowd returned to its chitchat, and Jack more than once heard his name. Not exactly the way he wanted others in the Invictus to learn about him, but not bad at all.

“Well spoken indeed, Master Terry.” Vanna gave him a small nod and walked after Viktor to join in whatever conversation they had planned.

Once Jack glanced back to his sire, Julias gave him a grin. Jack couldn’t help but grin back. This wasn’t so bad.

“May I present Alder Antoinette, Prince.”

Jack turned at the sound of the announcer. Alder Antoinette? The Prince wasn’t Invictus. But then, Julius said she was regularly invited, so perhaps she liked to play to their etiquette?

When the crowd shifted to look, Jack found himself staring at the backs of many other Invictus, and no way to see the Prince. He stepped to the side a little further, and a little further still, until he was leaning over one of the seats on the side of the great hall to see. No one was looking at him or his goofy pose, and damn it he really wanted to see the Prince.

He almost fell into the chair once he did.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think it were some kind of story or fairy tale character he was looking at. The Prince was very, very tall. She had a foot of height on him, so that she was even taller than Julias or Viktor. Her dress was very long, smooth, elegant, tasteful but gloriously sexy in its black curves and subtle sparkle. This Daeva did not care for the frilly dresses the Invictus wore. It seemed she preferred more formfitting dresses.

That form was fitting to be sure. She wasn’t just tall, she was a deadly creature of lean physique but also glorious curves. The hips, the waist, the absolutely massive breasts. Jack’s jaw was hanging open, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Her hair was wavy, long, like some sort of princess, but it was white. Pure white. And unless he was seeing things, the iris of her eyes were red. White hair, but she didn’t look old at all.

A quick glance to Julias, and his sire gave him a nod of knowing. She was both unusual looking, and absolutely beautiful.

She was making her way through the crowd. She was shaking hands, nodding, exchanging momentary courtesies with the triumvirate before moving onto the ancillae. She ... she was greeting the neonates. She was greeting the paiges! Every Kindred she passed, it seemed she greeted, and she was getting further through the crowd.

“Mister Mire. It has been weeks since your request. Has it gone well?”

Her voice carried just a hint of French, and was smooth like her dress. Her lips were red against her milky white skin, and her eyes were indeed red too.

“I have, your Excellency. May I present Master Terry, my childe.”

Jack slowly, so very slowly, raised his head to look up at the Prince. She was looking right at him, right into him, with her red eyes and her red smile. God she was beautiful. The beast in him was both stricken with fear from the power that dripped from the Prince, but also awe-struck with her. As a Daeva, it was only expected she’d have spent a long time making herself look beautiful, but the sheer confidence she displayed was overwhelming. Even those around who must have been intimidated by her massive height were watching her with hungry eyes.

“Master Terry. Tell me child, what is your first name?”

“ ... J-Jack, your Excellency.”

“Master Jack Terry. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” She gave him a small nod, and continued on her way.

When she moved, everyone stepped aside for her with lowered heads and roaming eyes. She was Jessica Rabbit with white hair and a black dress. Even just how she walked in those heels was mesmerizing, complete with a hip sway that demanded everyone’s gaze. The dress left her back wholly exposed, and her height only served to emphasize the long, enticing curve of her spine down to the small of her back. Her lengthy attire, sliding along the clean floor behind her, was split at the hip and left one of her legs exposed, and Jack’s eyes opened a little wider each time she took a step with her right leg to bare the long, milky, toned limb.

He would have been drooling if he could salivate. He didn’t even look around, just at her. The rest of the ball had gone on about its business, and Antoinette was talking with Garry and Viktor up on the balcony. When feeling returned to his limbs, Jack turned to look to Julias, and his sire gave him a small shrug.

“She likes to know everyone’s name.”

“Everyone’s? I ... that ... what.” He took a moment to look around at the other paiges, and they too were watching after the Prince, as confused as he. “Why?”

“Because she’s good at what she does.” Julias walked up to Jack, and motioned for him to follow. “She and her Sheriff are the only Ordo Dracul we know of in the city, and yet she is Prince. Never underestimate her, Jack. She is cunning, intelligent, and dangerous.” Soon, the two of them found a caterer, and like a couple of snobs, were drinking blood from expensive wine glasses.

“Indeed. The Prince is both a beautiful and deadly ally.”

Jack and Julias turned at the sound of another. A woman, dressed in a conservative white dress of minimal frills. She was only as tall as Jack, and even thinner than he. Her features were soft, skin almost obsidian, and her long black hair was kept smooth to her back.

“Ah, Miss Pol. May I introduce Master Terry, my childe.”

“Charmed.” She gave a small curtsy, and Jack replied with a small bow. His insides weren’t freaking out with fear, but were instead comparing itself against this new creature. She couldn’t have been very old.

“Miss Pol is Mekhet, and recently ended her paige-hood and became a neonate with the Invictus. You met her sire at the reception of Xnomina. The Madam Jenning.”

Gloria Jenning. She’d called him small, but maybe it was a flirtation? Miss Pol was certainly small.

“That is correct, Most Admirable Mister Mire. I am pleased to know my name is not forgotten. The Invictus grow large.”

“You are most welcome. Master Terry and I were discussing the faces of those he does not yet know. It is his first time at the ball,” Julias said.

“Then I am sure his mind must be reeling with the names and faces and customs.” She stepped toward Jack, and he stood his ground. There was a glint of something in her eyes, awareness perhaps, or intrigue. “I bid you farewell, Master Terry.”

And like that she was gone. Jack scratched at his buzzed hair, and looked back to Julias with confusion on his face.

“Um ... what was that?”

“She was introducing herself. Now you know who she is, she knows who you are, she knows you know who she is, and who her sire is, and her current progression in the ranks, and she knows I remember her.” Julias made some puppeteer motions with his hands. “All from thirty seconds of her time.”

“ ... damn. This will take some getting used to.”

“You have all the time in the world now.” Julias gave him a pat on the back. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some more, less threatening people. Then we’re out of here. I got a date.”

~~Beatrice~~

Was she nervous? When was the last time that happened?

Beatrice stood in front of her mirror in her home, far from her feeding den at the cemetery. It was an abandoned old apartment building, and other Carthians went there to sleep, deep in the Prince-sanctioned district of the Carthians, where they were safe. Likely safe, anyway. It was old, dusty, falling apart, and rats outnumbered them a thousand to one. The only thing they were safe from was Invictus invasion, not from the building falling on their heads.

But it was quiet. And some nice Mekhet had even stolen them power and, fucking hilariously, internet. There was a laptop next to her, complete with running music. She was a metal fan, naturally.

Nude in front of her mirror, and adjusting her hair in preparation for her date. Could she even call it a date? She’d saved the fucking Invictus’s life, he owed her one, and this was what she was wasting that favor on. Well, fuck Garry, he’d said the Carthians needed to bide their time and wait, and she was going stir crazy. Julias would prove an interesting distraction.

Her crocodile smile emerged. Julias was interesting. Dude had full-on popped a boner underneath her. Now that had been unexpected. The great and mighty Julias, right hand of Viktor Honors, ladies man and walking sex in a suit, was turned on by her, monster chick in the cemetery. He’d said he hadn’t been with a vampire in decades, so maybe he was sick of ... well, vampires. Scheming, manipulating, selfish, conniving leeches, completely predictable and yet you could never tell what they were thinking or planning. She fucking hated that shit.

She adjusted the piercings in her nipples. Her breasts weren’t large, but they certainly weren’t small. They were tight against her muscular form though. She had the body of a fighter, complete with ripped six-pack of abs, defined serratus muscles, wicked V-cut hips, and some thickness to her arms. She’d been a fitness instructor when she was alive, beautiful and a master gymnast, flexible, lean, strong. Gorgeous.

“ ... and then some fucking bastard Nosferatu with a sick fetish for me turned me against my will, then gets executed by the Prince for siring without permission. So poor ole Beatrice gets left without a sire to fend for herself in a broken system overflowing with predators. Sob sob, weep weep.” She eased her claws down her mirror, and her long tongue sneaked out to lick at her huge extra teeth. It really was a sad story, but that was twenty years ago. She’d moved on. She was a monster and human interaction was not going to happen; even the vampires avoided Nosferatu as monstrous as she.

“So, then there’s Julias.” She flicked at the dangling bit of metal chain from her navel piercing and rubbed at the tattoo of the skull where her pubic hair should have been. She always did prefer the shaved look when alive — the tattoos and piercings came after. “What the fuck is up with him?” Her claws clicked at the assortment of piercings dangling from her ears, then the one hooked into her right nostril, before tracing the tattoo of a snake that danced along her abs until it bit into her right nipple. Her first few years into the world of darkness had been quite the roller coaster.

“This another trick? More Kindred shit? This all some ploy to get information about the Carthians from me?” She threw on a white tank top, black jeans, and army boots. “We’ll fucking see.”

Julias was waiting for her at the cemetery. Fucker was dressed in a casual suit, no tie but with a nice jacket and some loose cuffs. Her teeth clicked side to side. Ventrue really knew how to wear a suit.

“Beatrice,” Julias said. He gave her a small wave.

“ ... did you just wave at me?”

“Yes. Was ... I not supposed to?”

“Arg.” Ten seconds into this exchange and she was already thrown off her game. Julias was smarter than her, older, and if she wasn’t careful he’d get into her head and who fucking knows what with his Ventrue fucking Jedi powers. “Look. We’re doing this because I want to. No manipulative shit, no schemes, no bids for power.” She walked up to him and put her claws against his chest. “If I figure out you’re trying anything, now or later, I’ll rip out your entrails and leave you for the sun.”

“Of course.” Julias didn’t back down, he didn’t even flinch, he just smiled at her. What the fuck was his problem?

“Think I’m joking?”

“No! No, I don’t, I—”

“Good. So, you owe me one, and this has nothing to do with Garry or Viktor or whatever fucking games our bosses are playing. I need some R&R and you’re going to provide. Take me to dinner.”

“Dinner? I’m not sure what—”

“Take me someplace nice ... ish, someplace you frequent. Someplace where we can sit down and enjoy a nice meal between us with no violence or screaming.”

“Oh. Yes, I can do that. Where would you like to go? And ... will you be wearing that?” His question made him grimace, as if it would bring down her hellfire.

He was partly correct, and she wrapped her claws around his throat and pulled him down to meet her at eye level. He squirmed but otherwise did nothing but smile awkwardly. She could swear he was enjoying this.