Chapter 43

~~Eric~~

Four more people who looked perfectly innocent, four more people putting his nerves on edge. Two men, two women. One white guy, and the other guy looked Hispanic. One black girl, and the other looked Hispanic as well. Mostly average heights for their gender, but they all looked quite fit. Well dressed, with relaxed suits and revealing shirts for the women that exposed hard stomachs. They had some tattoos, and carried themselves with a weird mixture of confidence, but also wariness, as if they were looking for something.

They caught his glance, and nodded his way. He was a bouncer after all, and some notice was to be expected. But beyond that, they moved to the center of the second floor and leaned onto the railing to look down at the dance floor. They moved with synergy, like four people who knew each other very well would. Like four people who would fight together if it came to it.

And they would fight. He could feel it. He could smell it. Was that wood? And ... something else, something he could barely smell. Something he didn’t recognize, but made him think of metal. Metal working, maybe?

“A divorce ye say? That sucks. But, seems like ye got a nice job here! Must be a nice place to work,” Fiona said.

He forced his eyes away from the four strangers and toward the lovely, smiling redhead. Attracted to him, and she was the sort of girl who got happy, excited, bubbly, when she was into someone. It almost hurt how fun she seemed.

Some quiet, feminine groans drew his attention as well. The man who’d been calling Jessy ‘Boss’ was still leaning back, arms on the booth’s back while he let the two girls do all the work. But now one of the girls had climbed onto his lap, sitting with her back to his chest, and had her skirt up to her waist. The girl next to her had stopped touching the man, and was now masturbating, based on what Eric could see from her arm angle, eyes blocked by the booth table thank god.

The noise drew the eyes of the two women beside him, and while Fiona outright giggled, Natasha’s giggles were more subdued, as if she was nervous about making the sound.

“My first night, and ... you could say I’m a little surprised.” He gestured to the man enjoying himself.

“F-First time in Bloodlust at all?” Natasha said.

“No, but I only came here a few times, years ago. And with a girl on the arm and a lethal amount of alcohol in the blood, you don’t really notice the other booths.”

“Still! Reputation must have p-prepared you.”

He winced and scratched the back of his neck. Words never really did justice to seeing other people have sex.

“People here seem happy though.” He shrugged, folded his arms across his chest, and looked back to the four by the railing. They whispered, tapped each other on the hands, made a few signs with their fingers, subtle, and not typical sign language either. Almost like he watching a football game, complete with a few tugs on their ears and brushing of their noses. Sly though, almost invisible, before the four walked away.

He watched them leave, until he was sure they were gone. Howls were still going off in his head, animal sirens, demanding he pay attention to their threat, and match it with his own. Only after a few minutes did the blood stop pumping madly.

He shouldn’t have taken this job. Everything was going fine until these girls showed up, and sent his senses into override. Then four more people showed up and did the same thing, only to leave within minutes of arriving. Suspicious. Tell Ganders? Fuck, tell him what? That you’re losing you’re fucking mind and suspecting his customers of being deadly threats? No, keep your mouth shut and do your job.

He glanced down at the two girls. Natasha looked around her like she wanted to leave, but Fiona was looking at him more and more, taking peeks at him, smiling when she caught his eyes. Bubbly young redhead interested in the older, clearly damaged divorcee? Maybe. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think the curvy little creature was gorgeous. But, the last thing on his mind was sex. He couldn’t get the dreams and images out of his mind, of tearing into things with his teeth and hands. Of the taste of blood and flesh.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it he didn’t know what the taste was, what the sensations were, if the warmth and metal taste on his tongue weren’t clear as day. If the mental images, being inserted into his skull with a pickaxe, weren’t so fucking vivid and detailed and filled with smells and sounds and textures, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And this job, being surrounded by so much flesh and noise, was making it worse.

Quit. Quit on your first day? And what about Pitt and Montel? Sheryl wanted the shit, but he was the fool that agreed to pay for it. He’d made his bed, time to lie on it. The bed was looking more and more like a grave though, until he’d found this job, this job that was making him want to—

“Ye sure you want this job?”

“What?” he said, looking Fiona’s way. Mind reader?

“Ye’re nae the bouncer type. The other bouncers here are big and tall and smile. Ye seem more like a fighter, someone who’d be good when the chairs start flying. I mean, I could bring ye home, back to Scotland, and I’d trust ye in a bar fight! But standing there in a suit? Sure ye don’t want to sit down with us?”

Her intention was blatant, but she also wasn’t wrong about him standing there in a suit, frowning and not smiling.

“Debts to pay and a life to rebuild. Bloodlust offered, and I’d be stupid to ignore the knocking at the door.”

The two girls nodded, but Fiona didn’t seem to get the hint that he wasn’t interested in being sociable. Or she did, and considered it a challenge. She got up, scooted around the booth, and sat in it so Natasha was further from him, her closer.

And then she reached out, took his arm, and yanked him down to sit with her. Strong, the little redhead. Plus he was standing while she was sitting, so she had the better balance to yank him sideways and force him to sit or fall. He chose sitting, and frowned at the girl as she grinned at him.

She and her friends had been talking about some strange shit only seconds ago, but now the girl was grinning at him with all the flirtatious need of a horny young woman. And, much as she seemed to be a really nice girl, something about her was scratching him the wrong way. Not the beautiful eyes — golden brown, hint of amber, like his own — or the warm smile or round cheeks that contrasted her obviously flirtatious nature. No, it was something he couldn’t see, something he couldn’t put his eye on or any of his senses on.

“Jessy could take care of those debts,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Jessy. She’s got connections with Xnomina.”

Natasha turned to them, and raised a brow at Fiona before shrugging. “It’s true. If y-you sleep with Jessy, I’m-m-m sure she’ll help you out. If she likes it, and you.”

Something there, in the unsaid, that Eric could only guess at; apart from the blatant suggestion at selling his body for sex. Well, plus one for gender equality, sort of.

“Not sure you girls want to get involved in Montel’s business.”

“Montoya M-Montel?” Natasha said.

“ ... you know the man? Why’s a young girl like you know that man’s name?”

“I used to work f-for Xnomina. You ... you might b-b-be surprised what they have their fingers in. And Jessy can—”

“Can what?” The predator came back up the stairs with a bounce in her step, and wiped her lips clean.

The Scot chuckled and shook her head. “Ate already? Dinnae take long.”

“Some cute little blond girl was just sitting all alone, drunk and high and waiting for someone to do something to her. So I had to indulge.” Jessy stopped in front of the booth, and raised a brow as she looked between the three of them. “The fuck happened in the ten minutes I was gone?”

“Ye told me to be aggressive! I’m being aggressive.” Fiona leaned in closer to him, and hooked her arm with his. Even hooked their fingers together, holding hands. She was soft.

“You call holding hands aggressive?”

“Aye! We just met and all.”

“No no. Fiona, you don’t understand. Men are idiots. Braindead morons.” She slid into the booth too, trapping him between her and the redhead. “You have to look him in the eye and tell him to take you home.”

She wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t willing to have any girls over to his current, horrible apartment, but the girl definitely wasn’t wrong.

“Perhaps another time,” he said. The look of disappointment on Jessy’s face bordered on frustration and anger, but Fiona took it differently. Poor girl’s head lowered, and she pouted the biggest pout an adult could pull off without looking silly. Manipulation tactic if he’d ever seen one. “Maybe another night? And maybe a different place. My shithole living space is not exactly female friendly.”

Natasha snorted on a giggle. “Y-You might be surprised what girls c-c-can be like, for hygiene.”

“That was a stab at me, wasn’t it?” Jessy said.

“It was. And, uh, Eric, you said Montel is b-being ... a problem for you?”

Jessy smirked, and leaned in a little closer to him. She was a predator, and apparently a fed predator; he could almost hear her stomach purr its satisfaction.

“Oh man, you got into bed with Montoya Montel?” Laughter, not nearly as subtle as the giggles of her two friends. Jessy slapped him on the leg too, and winked. “I’ll take care of it.”

“ ... you’ll take care of it?”

“Yeap, I’ll take care of it. Cause I like you Eric, I want to keep you around.”

“Your friends suggested sex would be required as payment.”

“Ha! I’m just hazing you. I mean, not that I’d say no, but you’re the new guy and I just had to tease ya.” Jessy peeked past him to the other two girls, who were conveniently looking away, even the redhead still holding his hand, though every so often she threw him another glance that betrayed the jovial attitude. Something was on her mind, and it hit her every time she looked at him. “Serious though, about Montel. Consider your issues with him over. Cause for some reason, I think you’ll do good things for Bloodlust if we keep you around.”

He glanced between the three women. Jessy was a predator, and Natasha was a shy thing, but Fiona was smiling up at him, a twinkle in her eye and a unusual weight he couldn’t place. What was she thinking? Why did she keep looking at him like she knew him?

Hard to think about that with Jessy telling him she’d get Montel off his back. Lying? Crazy? Wouldn’t be the first time a beautiful woman had lied to him, but she had no horse in this race as far as he could tell.

“ ... ok.”

Night was over, time to leave. Sighing, he wandered around for a little while and re-familiarized himself with the different sights of the club. An hour or two until sunrise, and someone turned on the light to give the cleaning crew what they needed to deal with the mess. And there was a mess. People fucking and drinking and doing lines, hell some people had even eaten food. Madness, but there it was. And all that made for a mess. Not as much of a mess as he’d figured, but there was garbage and condoms and some rather suspicious looking residue on tables and booth seats. The cleaning crew seemed thorough though, like they were used to this, and getting paid well enough to do their jobs proper.

More than just a cleaning crew though. The bouncers drifted around and checked the booths for anything that might be important to someone, or for people who hadn’t left yet. Awfully nice of them, the bouncers, doing that; hell, bouncer wasn’t the right word for what they did, for his job or theirs. Seemed to be the theme of the joint though, to keep the employees and the customers happy. Happy employees stuck around, happy customers came back. At least they did if either could stand the environment, and he wasn’t sure he could.

He raised a brow as he stood by one of the booths. A woman was in there, half asleep, dragging herself up from the depths with a groan. A cute little blond girl. Like the one Jessy said she’d ... she’d what? She hadn’t said, but it was implied Jessy had satisfied her hunger somehow, and the girl before him looked utterly drained.

“I ... oh ... oh damn. That girl...” The stranger forced herself up, and standing required some support from the table. Help her? He sighed, it was his job now, to make this a nice place to visit, so he held out his hand for her. She took it, and put all her weight on it. “This girl! A little tall, but really fit you know? She sat down with me ... can ... barely remember. I remember her ... kissing my neck...” The woman shivered, hiccuped twice, and started to walk toward the exit. “Mark is going to be sooo jealous.”

He quirked a brow as he watched the woman leave. Hungover, sure, but that didn’t explain the odd way she was looking at the ground, or struggling to find energy.

“Heard you kept a few women entertained for a good chunk of the night.” Ganders came up to him, stepping in from the front door and saluting him casually. “I got a good eye if I do say so myself. Know just who to pick. And you my good man, are going to bring in many women looking to soften that hard exterior of yours.”

Oh good god, he was being whored out by his pimp.

“Two of them tried to fuck me.”

“Understandable.”

“I turned them down.”

“Playing hard to get is perfect! They’ll come back and try harder to get you naked. Or at least with your fly down.”

Eric buried his face in his palm. Well, all things considered, the night had gone well, and he shouldn’t really be upset about Ganders’s prediction. Some sex in his life could be just what he needed to get his mind off the strange shit running rampant in his brain.

~~Julias~~

Beatrice spent the day at his place, sleeping next to him. Something was bothering her, that was plain as day, but he could also tell she didn’t really want to talk about it for more than obvious reasons. Something related to the covenants perhaps, or Jacob specifically maybe. Something had her feeling afraid, but also, wild. Charged, like someone who’d been rubbing their socks on carpet.

They spent the early hours of the next night having sex as well. He should have gone to the Xnomina HQ and taken care of his work, looking into the Mirrden business, examining the latest contracts Xnomina made, insuring profit was had. And of course he should have spent time looking into more direct Kindred affairs, chatting with the various members of Xnomina about what they’ve seen, what they know, and making sure they all knew the score about dealing with the Begotten, the Uratha, and the Carthians now that Barry was dead.

But a certain large, firm ass had demanded he spend the first couple hours of the next night with it. And he was a sucker for that ass. The fact Beatrice enjoyed anal sex as much as she did was a guilty pleasure he was very happy to indulge. He’d been with many kine in his life, but it was rare to find one who climaxed from anal sex, let alone with as much intensity as Triss.

Not that his actions would have been any different if they’d been having normal sex. But, he’d be a fool to ignore how much synergy the two of them had in bed. He loved her ass, and she loved her ass. Everyone was a winner.

He sat up in bed, and looked down at her panting, exhausted body. Lubricant still coated his softening member, and looking at her naked skin, the tattoos that decorated her toned, lean body, and the size of her ass nudging against his leg, was almost enough to get him hard again. But two orgasms was more than enough to satisfy his sex drive, unless he had a meal to reawaken his animal need. Still, even with his sex drive satisfied, he couldn’t help but stare down at her body.

Seeing her lying there on her side was too perfect. He set one hand on her ass cheek, and pulled it apart from her other cheek to expose where her ass was leaking his cum along her perfect skin. Wholly salacious. The sheets around her were soaked as well, mostly in her own juices.

Utterly naughty. He rolled his eyes at his thoughts, chuckled, and leaned down to kiss the side of her ass cheek.

“You ... want more?” she said.

“No. Well, not now. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“I might not be around. I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.” She rolled over onto her back, and raised her leg closest to him. On queue, he took her heel, and guided her foot toward his face so he could kiss her ankle, her shin, and her knee. Her handful breasts flattened a little to her chest, and Julias stared at them as he started to massage her calf muscle.

“Ever think of getting any new tattoos?” he said.

“What? I got a lot already.” She put one of her claws on her nipple, where a snake was biting her areola, and she traced its winding, curving form where it lowered down across her abs down to her mons and further, where the tail tip stopped just above the hood of her clitoris. “I really like this one. Scary thing like a snake biting into me, but also kinda highlighting all my curves and tits and shit, you know?”

“I admit, it definitely screams you.”

“Eh? Whatcha mean?”

“Part of what makes you you. Part of what makes you so attractive and interesting are those sorts of things, the snake tattoo being a good example. Gives you an animal edge that ... well, most Kindred in Dolareido don’t really have.” He laughed, as the most perfect example came to mind. “Jessy wishes she had as much of a beast inside her as you did, Triss. But, she’ll forever be a nineties action hero. Aggressive, sure. Strong and violent, sure. But that animal edge that makes you both scary and alluring? Like a snake? She’ll never have that.”

He watched for her reaction, using his poker gaze so she wouldn’t realize he was analyzing her expressions. The extra teeth for cheeks, and the snake eyes made reading her a unique experience, but after almost a year of dating, he’d gotten pretty good at it. And her expression read ‘you just told me something in a way that put something I was thinking about into a new, valuable perspective’. Which was good. He hoped.

“Well, with talk like that.” She reached down her stomach to her pierced clit hood, and started to lightly rub the metal so her body shivered a little, leg in his arms included. She spread her other leg too, so her smooth pussy was on display for him. “Sure you don’t want another round?”

“You know I want another round. But I do have a job. You should get one, make some money, pay rent.”

“Hey, witches don’t need money! We’re dark creatures of the night. We survive on blood and live in shadows. Don’t need no education or thought control.” She sat up, leg still up in his arms. Flexible. And, with a wicked grin she liked to use when she was feeling mischievous, she leaned in to give him a kiss. Still, with her leg up on him. Damn flexible. “See ya later then.”

With Beatrice in his life, it was easy to forget sometimes that he was a member of the Invictus council. Easy to forget that he was given all the responsibilities of his sire Viktor. Easy to forget that the peace between the Invictus and the Carthians balanced on a knife’s edge every night, and the moment someone made a mistake, the balance was going to slip. Everyone knew it too. Probably why no one in the Invictus wanted to bring up Barry, in case his death was actually a precursor to war.

Julias paced back and forth in the meeting room. The twelve at his command sat at the table, a long slab of dark wood, likely from an endangered species, knowing Viktor. The larger of the rooms, but still high in the Xnomina HQ, with LEDs in the ceiling turned down to a subtle light, to give the room an imposing, secretive feel. To the Kindred in the room, it was just normal, natural, for the room to feel like a secret gathering of agents determining the fate of the city. They didn’t realize how much of that aesthetic was illusionary, fake, created by people like him. Real secret agencies didn’t sit around in dark rooms, discussing the future over folders filled with pictures of people, places. Real secret agencies simply had a group of men or women who came to a conclusion, brightly lit room and all, and then dolled out the orders via the latest in communication equipment to their agents, without any of the artistic elements.

When Viktor was around, he engaged in the artistry of dark rooms and imposing suits as Julias did, but he did not entertain the words of his subordinates. The right hands of the Invictus had no say in what they did. The senior Kindred below them had no say. The younger Kindred below them had no say, and doubly so for fledglings.

But now he was a part of that council, and he wanted to get Jessy, and the other senior Kindred involved in making decisions. Maria and Michael approved. Much as they were a royal pain in his ass, they weren’t the dictator Viktor was.

They weren’t in the meeting though. Maria was with Damien, discussing matters of how those two would be working together and starting the Second Estate. Sort of. It’d be years before the Prince acknowledged the Lancea et Sanctum as a functioning covenant of Dolareido. Decades perhaps. And Michael was playing his own games, mostly about expanding Xnomina in ways as to show off its power, and his prowess. If he wasn’t careful, the company would be caught creating monopolies on certain software venues.

But Invictus lived for the thrill of such economic exploits. To successfully set up a monopoly and get away with it? To have the entire world eating out of the palm of their hand, forced to pay absurd amounts for something they could only get from Xnomina, was a pleasing thought. Capitalism and Kindred were kindred spirits. Predators feeding on prey, the strong get stronger and the weak perish as food.

Too cruel? Perhaps. But it was a tried and true system developed by mother nature herself. The Carthians could disagree with it all they wanted, but their obsession with searching for ‘better’ ways to govern territory and handle the economy was wishful thinking at best, dangerous delusions at worst.

He looked around at his fellow Kindred. Twelve of them, Jessy included, the entire population of the more older Kindred in the employ of the First Estate in Dolareido. Other cities had their own Invictus, and while they communicated with each other on occasion, cities were generally left to their own devices. So, for the Invictus in Dolareido, he had the twelve in front of him at his command.

“The Mirrden expansion is almost complete,” he said. He had his hands in the small of his back, and head looking down slightly to put on his thoughtful look. “And none of you have reported any new conflicts with the Carthians.”

Jessy nodded. “Seen a few of them hanging around. Last night, I think that Joe fuck tried to start something. Just barking though, nothing came of it.”

“And you Vanna?”

Bruce Vanna, fellow Ventrue, with a good thirty or forty years embraced under his belt. Potential replacement for him and Natasha as his right hand. Maybe. The man had a habit of being a bit too indirect and passive about things. That was fine, and an elegant way of navigating a snake pit, but not the best approach when the council needed something done immediately, no questions asked.

The tall man tapped his fingers on the table a few times. “The werewolves showed up, a couple of them at least, according to James. Asked some questions about the burned buildings, but otherwise didn’t seem to care about Mirrden.”

“Makes sense they’d be wondering about the fires. We—”

“They ... did ask James if he’d seen anything strange. The boy inquired, and they asked him if he’d seen any people acting out of character, or maybe movement in the corner of his eyes or in shadows. Asked if he’d seen things that vanished upon investigating.” Vanna tapped his chin a few times too, before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the office table. “This was last night. I do wonder what they’re looking for.”

Isabella shrugged and gestured to some of the pictures on the table. While there were plenty of the Mirrden construction, there were also plenty of the Uratha. While the beast within Kindred was a master at deceiving cameras, film, and all forms of recording devices, the special ability of Uratha to distort what people saw — and recording devices according to some myths — only occurred when they were transformed or transforming. To take pictures of them while in their human form was easy enough.

“Perhaps another hunt?” she said. “Your childe Master Terry was quite adamant that the Uratha were helping us deal with a problem, instead of having brought it with them.”

“Master Terry can be a bit naive in some ways, but also perceptive and objective in others,” Julias said. “I trust his judgment with the Uratha. And, as much as we have a troubling history with Avery, don’t forget it was her pack leader Simon who led to many of the issues we had with them, not Avery.”

The group nodded, though Isabella didn’t seem too convinced about the werewolves’ leader. Understandable. She was just a young neonate when that chaos had started.

“So,” he continued, “if the werewolves are asking about strangeness, then we should be looking for strangeness. Don’t throw yourselves into any madness though; leave the wolves to hunt their hunts, and stay out of their way until I say otherwise. Understood?” The group nodded without missing a beat. “Good. Next point of discussion: living arrangements.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Mire?” Vanna said.

“Barry’s death and his burned down home are not accidents.” He pointed to the pictures of the burned building Jack and Amanda had taken. A lot of duplicates on the table for the group to look at too. “Much as it’s easy to dismiss his death, we’re not going to do that. Something’s happened. What happened, we don’t know, but we’re not going to simply ignore it. Some of us are investigating, as you can see, and as for the rest of us, we need to consider our lives in danger from an unknown threat. A threat that might be active during the day.”

“Thralls? Ghouls?” Jessy said.

“Perhaps, but then we’d know it was a Kindred to blame, and we have no suspects. Mister Tones is unlikely to be the cause of this. Mister Burksen is just as unlikely. And the Prince? Or Jacob? The other covenants do not have a decent reason to kill someone like Barry, or burn down his nest.”

Isabella tapped her fingers on the pictures a few times before raising one of them to examine it. “A shame they were not caught on camera.”

Julias raised a brow. “They?”

“Two men, two women, two trench coats and two leather jackets. Kine who have been seen both near Mirrden, and once outside Bloodlust.”

“Right,” Jessy said. “I read that in Jack and Amanda’s latest report about his investigation. Then again, I could put together a half dozen similar leads if I was willing to accept such vague and meaningless connections. I’ve got a sighting of a man with barbed wire tattoo around his neck at Mirrden on three separate occasions. Looked into that already. Turns out he’s just a kine who lives nearby and hates the noise.”

The Gangrel had a point. Still.

“Keep an eye open,” he said. “But, back to the matter at hand. Everyone will need to start taking defensive measures with their sleeping dens. Those of you familiar with, or alive during the purge era of Lucas and our constant struggles with the Carthians will already know what to do. Those of you who have not found a sleeping nest that is secure, do so. Ask your fellow Invictus if you need help.”

Gloria leaned forward and made a small, opening wave with her fingers. “How secure are we talking about?”

“Secure enough that I won’t be sleeping in my normal bed anymore,” he said. The mansion had a dungeon, secure, safe, with escape routes within. Perfect for Kindred to sleep during the day. “I should have started sleeping in my secure location already, but, like you, I’ve been in denial about the dangers approaching the city. The ball will soon be upon us, and the Prince has highly encouraged the peaceful state we’ve managed to acquire.”

Jessy laughed. A real, deep laugh, that had the rest of the room smiling eventually. “She’s even giving Lucas’s childe a chance to bring back the Second Estate. She really wants peace.”

“And I know some of you think that’s an opportunity for us,” Julias said. “And if you think you have a plan to usurp the Prince, by all means, bring it to me, so I can laugh at your idiocy.” That destroyed some of the smiles in the room. Good. “Back to my point. We’re in a limbo state. One half pushing for peace, while the other must now be careful of violence. From now on, everyone is to sleep in a safe nest. Instruct your childes or subordinates in this, or at least make sure they are taken care of.”

He began to pace around, and put on his serious face, a face he could adopt in any situation, and bring everyone in the room into line. And they did. They knew better than to joke around when he was instructing.

Sometimes, he wondered if they considered him a second Viktor. Did they worry he might cross a line, and start hurting, perhaps killing Kindred who antagonized him? He wouldn’t, but it was useful that they thought he might.