Chapter 37

~~Antoinette~~

“Did you truly think I would not find out? Or that I would not care?” Antoinette said, staring at the five idiots in her office. The floor below the Primogen meeting, this room was similar in its cold, simple colors and shape, the giant window behind her for a wall, and one of her chairs that rivaled thrones. Before her, a desk, simple and void of anything except a laptop. The lights, white and directed to create shadows from those who stand beneath them, to shrink any who stood before her and make them appear minuscule compared to the desk, let alone her and her throne.

“I—”

“Beatrice Damor, I did not invite you here to talk. I invited you here to listen. And you will listen or I will rip your jaw from your idiot skull. Understood?”

Beatrice winced, and stood a little straighter. She was used to such grueling lectures from Garry, when she worked for the Carthians, Antoinette was sure. The difference was, Antoinette would do it.

The five idiots included Damien, Fiona, and Beatrice. And unfortunately, Natasha and Jack as well. Fiona could not wipe the grin off her face, but it seemed to be the girl’s natural state; at odds with her existence as a literal nightmare.

“If I ask a question that is not obviously rhetorical, you may answer it. Until then, you five will be silent.” She leaned back in her chair, folded one leg over the other, and turned so her side was to the squirming group. Her nearest hand rested on the desk, and she tapped her index finger against it. “Dolareido is in a time of flux. Since the purge, the covenants have begun to demilitarize, in a sense. The petty squabbles of the Invictus and Carthians not withstanding, Kindred violence has been decreasing steadily. Not only the violence, but the spying, the deceit, the Danse Macabre, have all lessened.” And it was true. Her fruitful schemes to eliminate Viktor and Tony were, hopefully, things of the past.

But every time she took a moment to breathe, let her guard down, madness threw itself at her door. Lucas returned, but his return was short lived. His death, followed shortly by Jack’s confession of love, had painted the perfect picture. Her enemies dead, her romantic interest budding into love, and all the reasons in the world to simply relax and enjoy the things she had long forgotten how to enjoy.

But, as if her happiness summoned chaos, like blood in the water, wolves and monsters alike arrived to reek havoc on her city. And the five idiots in front of her were only making things worse.

“And yet, for all my work to create a utopia for our kind, and even visitors of other races, there are those who refuse to ... let the ripples settle.” She gestured out to those in front of her, these fools with no respect for her goals.

The idiot children were not convinced. If anything, they seemed confused about her anger. She slammed her fist down against the table, and all five of them jumped in place.

“The Uratha are juggernauts of animal instinct, with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. They wished for us to stay clear of the tunnels under Devil’s Corner, to let them hunt their prey, for a reason. You five! Your carelessness, your interference. You could have reignited a conflict long buried.”

Jack and Natasha both stepped forward, at the same time.

“We wanted to—”

“We were trying to help Fio—”

“Fiona deserved a—”

“And then Natasha went missing and—”

“Some Uratha were with me and—”

This, from her lover, and her assistant and apprentice. No, this would not do.

Antoinette got up from her chair, and walked over to the now petrified group of troublemakers. Natasha and Jack were a foot ahead of them, and with a few feet separating them, they gave Antoinette a delightful angle for her to express her rage.

Her hands snapped out at the wide-eyed, frozen two, and grabbed their jowls. Her fingers hooking under their jaws, her thumb between their teeth and pushing down on their tongues, she brought both tiny Kindred to their knees. The look of panic in their eyes was signal to continue lecturing.

“Perhaps you think yourselves familiar enough with the Prince to speak out of turn?” She glared at each one closely, leaning in, and squeezed down on the mouths of their skulls. They squirmed, wriggled, in pain and very much uncomfortable with the position. Good. “Rashness and courage, stupidity and bravery, there is a fine line and you two stepped over it. If things had gone even slightly differently, we could have more dead Kindred like so long ago. But Avery’s new found prudence, reflected in her choosing Jack as the intermediary, is the first time I have ever witnessed these wolves display even an ounce of wisdom. And yet!” She squeezed harder, and both Kindred whimpered as she shook their heads like dolls. “And yet the very man she chose, violated her single request. And my fellow dragon, my subordinate, a representative of my covenant and myself, was half the reason for such madness!”

She raised her eyes to glare at the other three. Fiona had finally stopped smirking, and both Damien and Triss had taken small steps back.

She had demanded the five fools present themselves to her, after Avery had visited her to describe what had happened. Mature of her to come herself, to explain herself how the Kindred had sought Fiona’s innocence, sought Natasha’s safety. She had explained Jack’s bravery as well, how the boy had saved their lives.

Bravery, or lunacy. Antoinette grit her teeth as she glared at her five guests. Best to squash this insolence now, before she let the Kindred under her rule turn into wild vigilantes, or other forms of courageousness risen to stupidity. The Primogen were not invited, and she would deal with their protests later. She was Prince, she had the right to demand audience with anyone she chose.

“Damien,” she said, raising her eyes from the two at her mercy, “I understand you have made a contract with Maria Turio. How will she respond to this?”

The man considered, eyes falling, before he looked up to meet hers. No doubt meeting her gaze filled him with many unpleasant memories. And him her, of a sword cutting off her limbs.

“Madam Turio would ... tell me I was impulsive and foolish, for going into the tunnels. If I was her subordinate, she’d ... probably punish me for risking a war with the Uratha.”

If only the boy knew how badly he would have been punished. Perhaps he could ask Natasha later, if Antoinette did not kill the girl herself.

“A poor start, to your new role with the Lancea et Sanctum.”

He winced again and looked down. Perhaps that would bring him in line.

She threw her glare at Beatrice. Jacob would not punish her; he was the sort to let life lessons do the teaching, even if it meant killing the taught. A short-sighted approach. Antoinette had no qualms with punishing the Nosferatu herself, and Beatrice knew it.

Slowly, Antoinette turned her gaze to Fiona as well, and glared down at the small Scot. Not as small as the little Mekhet in her grip, but small nonetheless, and she squirmed and lowered her gaze as Antoinette glowered at her.

“And you, Begotten, your kind are on thin ice as is. You have killed many in your time here, and lo and behold, some monstrosity took advantage of your carelessness. What will you do if hunters appear at your door, with fire and acid and weapons of this age more than capable of dealing with whatever defense you and your lair may provide?”

“I ... um, Azamel is teaching me to feed better. It will nae be a problem anymore!”

“See that it is not. Far too much attention has been brought to my city, and the Masquerade is in danger. Do any of you infantile delinquents realize the danger of discovery? What would happen if our kind’s existence were brought to light? Across the globe, the kine outnumber us a hundred thousand to one. You think my purge upon that villain Lucas was an act of brutality and violence, Damien? You have no idea what will happen if the Masquerade is broken.” She squeezed harder, enough to make the two Kindred in her grasp whimper. Whimper turned to gasp as she lifted Natasha and Jack, by their mouths. Only the strength of their Kindred bodies kept their jaws from ripping clear of their skulls until they grabbed her wrists to keep that from happening. “So we will do all we can to preserve the Masquerade. You could have ignited aggression from the Uratha, and if pushed into their death rages, those wolves would not hesitate to take this battle to the streets and risk everything I have worked for. Instead of stirring a hornet’s nest and begging for chaos, you juvenile miscreants will only do as your covenant leaders say from now on. Do I make myself clear?”

The four Kindred nodded, even the two with their jaws firmly in her grip and hands holding onto her wrists for dear life.

“And you Fiona, you will learn to hide your ravenous appetite under the tutelage of Azamel and Athalia, or I will paint the walls with your blood as a warning to other monsters to control your hunger. Understood?”

“Understood!”

“Now get out of my sight.” She threw the boy and girl away from her, and they fell back onto their asses as she glared her red stare upon them.

Fiona scampered out, Triss and Damien following behind her with attempts to walk calmly ruined by the hop in their step. Jack and Natasha picked themselves up and ran after them, stumbling on the way. As everyone disappeared through the doors, Jack paused at the entrance and looked over his shoulder to her.

She offered him rage, frustration, disappointment, and scorching fire with her gaze. He winced, head drooping, eyes falling, and closed the door behind him.

For a brief moment, a single flash of instantaneous regret, she wanted to chase after him, apologize, and hold his head to her bosom. It faded, and instead, she paced left and right in front of her desk before at last walking over to the window and netting her fingers together behind her back. She watched down from her tower, watched the odd group of mismatched friends leave, and took a useless breath as she organized her thoughts.

Why was she so livid? She could feel the heat through her dried Kindred veins, coursing vitae through her limbs until the beast inside her roared its power, its rage and need for violence. She suppressed with practiced restraint, but that did not change that the beast within, usually steel and ice before the frustrations of her position, was boiling in a frenzy. It was her acting juvenile, or at least without wisdom, yelling at these children like a parent who does not understand how to temper their emotions, or use experience to guide outcomes.

But every time she imagined Jack dying to monsters in her tunnels, the fire returned all the more. Old memories, just faded and blurry things, danced in her mind, of others she cared for dying at the hands of others, bloody and ruined. Each memory, old and beyond her ability to draw into exact detail, taunted her, mocked her, and laughed at her misery.

She could not let it happen again.

She sat in her fitting room, deep in her tower, and fumed. The smoke shot from her ears, lit by the fire in her eyes and the glare they held as she stared at the mirror.

“Mistress, please, you’re so stressed you’re going to ruin your hair.”

“Julee you are well aware Kindred suffer no such issue.”

Her and her two precious ghouls, her sitting in front of a mirror in one of her comfiest, most luxurious leather chairs, while the girls stood behind her and combed her hair.

“Still! You’re so angry it’s going to ruin my hair,” Ashley said, leaning down over her shoulder to smile at her before resuming her work. Work was perhaps a strong word, as the two girls were combing her hair merely to relax her; and relax her it did. The gentle tug on the scalp, the waves of it as the comb moved through her hair, how the girls gripped it to keep it steady as they removed any knots.

“That idiot boy nearly ended his own life on a suicidal attempt to prove Fiona’s innocence. And Natasha, her as well!” Antoinette seethed, and tapped both hands’ fingers upon her chair’s arms.

This was not her usual anger. In the past, she would glare upon those who trespassed against her, and declare her punishment with all the passion of the reaper himself: none. The city was hers, and with cold, unfeeling hands, she would bend it to her will until peace was had. Peace of the gun, but peace.

The past year had shredded her composure, the past few months especially. She knew it, and her ghouls knew it. On more than one occasion, they had commented on her new attitude, how she had more fire, less ice. It was true, quite true, and as she let her mind wander over the changes in her life, she knew why. Her relationship with Jack in conjunction with the chaos being dumped at her city’s gates, the two forces combined had frazzled her. For all her wisdom and self control, she was not managing her circumstances well.

“I know that look,” Ashley said, coming about to lean her hip against the counter. Deep in her tower, the black marble motif was commonplace, and the counter reflected it. The mirror was built into the wall itself, massive and circled with dragons of silver. “That’s the ‘I’m going to need to get serious about this’ look.”

“You do not understand, my precious. A host of children risked the aggression of brutish creatures, without so much as a mention to their leaders. If their idiot pursuits had gone horribly, it could very well have lead to war with the Uratha.” And the wolves had all the tact of an avalanche. They relied on their lunar madness, a mysterious condition that fell upon any kine that witnessed a werewolf in their transformed state.

Hardly an effective means of defense in the modern age. Supposedly, the werewolves also valued the secrecy of their existence, but she had seen no such control when Simon had visited her city.

Was she the only one with the foresight to consider the future? To consider what the world would be like in a hundred years, when the Earth’s kine found the stars, when space stations became normal, when the secrets of the night would be threatened by the growth of technology. Would the beast inside them all find a way to evolve, or would Kindred be at the mercy of science?

The Uratha and Begotten, she could understand ignoring the future, to a degree. They were not immortal. But her fellow Kindred should know better, and she would drill that wisdom into their idiot skulls if it was the last thing she would do.

“But...” Julee continued to comb Antoinette’s hair, but her voice wavered the way she did when she wanted to say something, something Antoinette would undoubtedly not like. “But that ... that sort of stuff, you’re normally very methodical and calculating about. This is different.”

“Yeah what Julee said.” Ashley pulled out a drawer, got some nail polish remover, and took Antoinette’s hand before she began treating her fingers. “And we know Jack has something to do with it. You said he nearly died?”

“Avery said ... that the boy defeated the monster.” The monster the werewolves themselves could not defeat. If there was one thing those animals were good at, it was killing, and for them to fail where Jack succeeded was a scary thought. The risk that boy must have put himself under.

“Sounds to me like you’re just worried about Jack. Totally understandable.”

Antoinette sighed, leaned her head forward to rest her chin upon a palm, elbow to the arm of her chair, while Ashley pampered her other hand. A Kindred needed no manicure, no lotion, but nail polish was susceptible to the wears of time as anything else.

“You believe I am being biased.”

“You’re too smart for that,” Ashley said, smirking at her as she started applying the new base coat along her fingernails. “I think anything you said you’d have said even before you met Jack. Just now, you yell it instead of just saying it.”

“Then I am being childish.” Which, all things considered, was a good thing for a Kindred to feel. So long buried in responsibility and ruling of ages, elders often deteriorated into monoliths of unfeeling cruelty, like Viktor. But it was not good for her position as Prince. “And ... in my juvenile frustration, may have offended my darling.”

“Offended?” Julee said.

“I ... may have took him by the jaw, and forced him and Natasha to their knees. And then ... threw them.”

Her two ghouls looked at each other, and sighed.

“That may have hurt his pride a little,” her little Ashley said, nodding as she focused on her nails. “And he is a man. Even Jack must have an ego to hurt.”

“Maybe?” Julee came around to stand more beside the Prince, still combing her hair with her eyes set on her task. “I think Jack will get over that quickly. He’s not nearly as vain as most men.”

Antoinette smirked at her two precious pets. To hear them discuss it, they must have had a wealth of experience with the opposite gender, when in truth Jack was their only true relation with men, beyond some platonic relationships at their university.

“But,” Julee continued, “I think you should definitely talk to him. Let him know you only got so angry cause you love him.”

Ashley nodded as she worked, soon applying blood red to Antoinette’s nails. “And from what you told us, what he did sounded very ... awesome, manly even. Risking his life like that? I don’t know, maybe it was stupid, but I know I’d be swooning if my boyfriend was doing stuff like that.”

Antoinette eyed her pet closely. The ballerina refused to make eye contact with her, instead deciding to focus on her fingers. But she was smiling as she did it.

And with a slow sigh, Antoinette looked to the mirror and watched Julee comb her long white hair. To her dismay, a sneer was on the vampire’s face, a sneer she had been carrying since she had heard what Jack and the others had done. Images of the small man, torn apart and melting into nothing more than a withered husk haunted her, terrified her, struck her paralyzed.

But, perhaps there was something to Ashley’s silly swooning. Jack, her little Ventrue, taking down a beast of such magnitude with his hands? For all his skills and natural talents, he was very young; such a feat was nothing short of exemplary for one his age. And while she wished he would stay safe, she was proud of him.

How stereotypical of her, to wish her man be filled with drive, passion, to accomplish things and acquire power to his name, but also stay safe and in her arms at all times.

She would make it up to him.

~~Damien~~

Well, that went better than he thought it would. Natasha had been surprised by Antoinette’s anger, which surprised Damien considering how blatant the risk of their action had been. Pissing off the Uratha could easily mean dead Kindred, or Masquerade violations, or a host of other problems. Like a collapsed tunnel.

He shrugged to no one and waited outside, after the meeting. He wasn’t sure where to go, what to do, or any of the typical garbage of a man with a new life. Felt almost like how he imagined a convict would feel once released. With no immediate, pressing concerns, what now?

Jack and Triss had already left, Triss avoiding eye contact with him, and him avoiding it with her. At least she wasn’t rubbing his new problem in his face. If she did, he’d be liable to pin her down and drink her blood for another taste.

God he wanted another taste. He hadn’t even been conscious for the first taste, and he wanted another one.

He shook his head and dusted nothing off his shoulders. Just the cravings Damien, it’s just the cravings. They’ll pass. Do not succumb to such base desires.

Fiona and Natasha came out moments later, and the redhead waved to him as she spotted him leaning against a lamppost. He returned it with a much smaller wave, a far more subtle smile, and stood a little straighter as the two of them walked over to him.

“Natasha wants to talk to ye!” Fiona said, nudging Natasha forward with her shoulder.

Damien raised a brow and looked down at the two women. Small Fiona, and super tiny Natasha. Fiona had no trouble with eye contact; if anything, she craved it. Whenever Damien met her gaze, she looked up at him with her beaming, golden eyes, as if all the horrible things that had just happened to him didn’t. This girl was a nightmare incarnate? Still too hard to believe, even after seeing it all with his own eyes, and tasting jungle water.

“Vola,” he said.

“ ... D-Damien. Um, what’s your last name?”

“Burksen.”

“Burksen. Ok.” Natasha nodded, and stepped in a little closer, eyes down, every bit of her body language dripping of awkwardness. “Fiona, c-can I talk to Damien alone?”

“Awright. I will see ye two later then?” She waved and headed off, jeans and brown leather jacket a complete mismatch for her surroundings, this deep in South Side where suits and cocktail dresses were the norm. Damien had found some nicer clothes to wear for the meeting; he didn’t need to piss the Prince off anymore than he already was.

Natasha waved after her, a small one like Damien liked to do. “She ... she’s a lot of fun, isn’t she? I can’t ... c-c-can’t believe she’s what she says she is.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t either. But I walked in that lair myself, saw the two moons and the jungle she calls home. She showed me other parts too, a city of blood that looked identical to Dolareido.” He shivered as he started walking. Seemed like the thing to do, start walking, keep moving as they had the painful conversation he wanted to avoid.

New beginnings, Damien. New beginnings.

“I heard that Maria is ... going t-t-to help you ... with your Lancea et Sanctum b-business.”

“Yeah.” He pulled out Maria Turio’s phone that she gave him. No messages from her at least. Was he supposed to call her, text her, would it even be her answering them, or some of her ghouls or subordinate Kindred?

“I hope she ... d-d-doesn’t betray you too.”

Fuck. He winced as the low blow sliced through his still very sore insides, and he looked down at the little woman walking beside him. Her eyes were hard set and locked onto the large sidewalk, even as the two of them avoided bumping into the kine in their way with practiced ease.

“ ... I am ... sorry, Natasha, about everything, you know.” He glanced up toward the sky. Dolareido was a city of lights, a city that never slept; at least in the business and entertainment district. The stars couldn’t be seen, just buildings, tall buildings and their many windows, with bright lampposts, hundreds of cars driving by at slow speeds, and various night shows or theaters with their front entrances putting on lights. When he looked back down, he found the girl looking at him, and smiling.

“You d-do have nice eyes.”

Nice eyes, right. She’d said that, back when he’d woken from his sleep inside the sheriff’s dungeon.

“So you believe me?”

“ ... I d-do. Just ... wanted to hear it proper. But now you’re working for Maria, and—”

“Maria only betrayed you because she loved Lucas.”

“ ... loved?”

Did she not know? He looked at her as they walked, and raised a brow at the blatant confusion on her face.

“Yes, loved.”

“I ... I’d heard, and my research suggested, but ... I have a hard t-t-time imagining Maria ... loving anything.”

“You worked with her for decades.”

“But she always kept her distance. And ... I d-don’t think she ever really ... accepted me.”

Damien sighed. Guess it wasn’t just him feeling out of place. If Natasha had worked for that woman for so many years, never feeling like Maria accepted her, that must have done damage to her mind. Trying to meet the expectations of your superiors, only to fall flat because of things beyond your control, was a situation he could understand. Similar, if only slightly.

“Well, I guess I’m in the same boat now. I have no idea if she’ll accept me. But then I’m not Invictus, she doesn’t need to.”

“Still, you’ll b-be working with her.”

“ ... yeah.” As a constant reminder of the shit he did for Lucas. Lovely. He sighed and turned a corner, while Natasha went in another direction. “ ... hey, wait a minute.”

“Y-Yeah?” she said, peeking over her shoulder at him. A glint of hope in her eyes too. She wanted to talk to him, and he was making it hard. Or was she?

Two idiot Mekhets who couldn’t talk to other people to save their lives. Stereotypical.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“Wow!” She pressed her eye to the telescope, and peeked out over the tower edge to stare into the heart of the city. The tower was conveniently located of course, to be able to see into many buildings from its angle and height, many windows, and watch many roads.

“This is one of the sites I use to ... ah, Beatrice would be angry with me, talking about spying on people.” Stop thinking about shark-mouth. Stop it. “I set many telescopes up so I could spy on Dolareido. It’s more difficult to spy on the Carthians though; no skyscrapers in their area.”

“There’s something t-to be said for low tech.” She hummed a few affirmations as she turned the telescope about, eye never leaving it. “The Carthians are d-difficult to spy on, I know. No database to hack, no cameras or other surveillance t-tools to hack either. And, I guess, even a telescope is only useful if you c-can find a good spot for it.”

“Exactly.” Spying on the Invictus was easy for the technically minded. He wasn’t that, but he still knew how to eavesdrop with a telescope.

“You can see J-Jessy’s window!”

“Yeah. Your friend has ... very...”—how to word this, how to word this—”exhibitionist taste.”

Natasha groaned and let one of her arms hang limp beside her, no doubt mentally picturing what he was talking about. “I can see her right now, d-dancing around to some horrible eighties trash rock, and ... d-doing it only in a thong.”

Yeap, that sounded about right for Jessy; no need for her to mentally picture what he was saying then. Right hand of the Invictus, a Kindred who’d entered her ancilla years, and had the weight of billions of dollars and the lives of her subordinates in her hands, using her free time to dance naked in her living room for everyone to see.

“Her ghouls in there too?” he said.

“No, Vincent and them aren’t there.”

“Oh, you know there names? Partaking in some of Jessy’s other extracurricular activities?”

“N-N-No! No I’m ... not.”

Well hell, he’d been kidding, but looking at Natasha from his seat on the tiny roof, he could tell she was trembling in that super anxious sort of way. The sort of trembling he imagined she’d do, her personality type would do, when trying to lie about something they were ashamed of.

“I didn’t realize you had that sort of side to you, Natasha.” Imagining her joining Jessy in her regular orgy fun was a strange image. But, he had to admit, much as he didn’t really think of Natasha in that way, she was a very cute, tiny woman. He may not have thought of her that way, but others must have.

“It’s ... it’s Jessy fault! She f-f-forced me, and ... and you!” Natasha finally pulled her eye away from the telescope to frown at him, sitting down opposite of him atop their small space on the tower. “Fiona says you’re a virgin!”

“Well if we’re going to get all juvenile about this, yes.” Much as he seemed to have offended Natasha, the conversation was proving too funny for him to not smile. Though, mental note, punish Fiona for being such a gossip.

“I ... I’d heard that Lucas ... had a strict policy involving ... Kindred and ghouls.”

“Oh. That.” He sighed, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between. “Yeah, he taught in his ... dogma, that sex with kine, ghouls or otherwise, is prohibited.” He ran some fingers through the hair on the half of his head, and shook it once the pain of the memory eased. “If I can get the Lancea et Sanctum up and running again, a lot of those old lessons, idiotic doctrine, will be left behind.”

“That’s good.” She smiled and sat forward as well, getting more comfortable. “Cause, I mean, J-Jessy was right. I should have more fun. And so should you.”

He rolled his eyes, and thought back to his trip to the tunnels, and Fiona making him grab her breast. It’d been silly, but he had to admit, he liked the feel.

“I took you up here so we could talk more privately, not try and hook me up.”

“We are talking! You apologized for ... for what you and Lucas d-did, right? And ... and you’re different than him, a different person now too.”

He hoped so, cause the old Damien was dominated by a fucking Ventrue not even a year old. Embarrassing, and depressing, to have such a young neonate get into his mind and turn him into a puppet. Then again, for one so young to be able to dominate a mind at all was an impressive feat.

“What do you suggest?”

“I suggest you g-go to a club.”

He raised a brow at the tiny woman, and took a moment to look her up and down to make sure it was actually her. Yeap, boring black business suit with pants, definitely her.

“Are you serious?”