Chapter 67

~~Jack~~

He would have facepalmed, if he wasn’t too busy staring at the catastrophe.

If they were Invictus, they’d have been stunned at the sheer audacity of Madam Herrington. To a Carthian, it was an invitation to a fist fight. And Garry looked liked he pissed and shit fist fights.

He drew back his fist, and punched his fellow Gangrel in the face. A courtesy punch, maybe, because Jack knew Gangrels didn’t use their fists when trying to hurt, they used claws. He’d never seen a Gangrel summon their claws, or use any of their protean abilities, and he didn’t want to; Julias’s horror stories about the damage McDonald could inflict when pissed was plenty.

Backing up, he reached for his pistol and sword, and kept his hands on their grips, as Jessy flew across the room, slammed into the wall, and fell to the floor. Dislocated jaw. Jack stared on as Jessy got up, grabbed her jaw, and yanked on it. Vitae and elbow grease to get her jaw working again. Fucking god, that was nauseating. She marched toward Garry again, straight toward his pissed off face, before Jack jumped between them.

“Jessy! Come on, stop!”

She didn’t appreciate him trying to stop her, but at least she didn’t throw him aside. “This fucker is a loose cannon! Hunters on our fucking doorstep, and he’s looking to piss off the Invictus.”

“You’re one to talk.” With a snarl, Garry sat back down, and adjusted his jacket. “Like I said, we didn’t know Eric was Uratha when Long decided to make it known he wasn’t going to take orders from the Invictus anymore.”

Jessy kept trying to push past Jack, and he kept pushing her back. Like trying to keep a bull back, but at least she wasn’t so stupid as to throw herself at Garry full force again. With a minute to calm down, she backed away, and started pacing, fuming in place. Probably grinding her teeth into powder.

“Like it would have mattered!”

“It would have.” Long stood up, came around the desk, and sat against its front edge. “He was just a pawn to be used in a little jab against the Invictus. A deserved jab, might I add.”

Eventually, Jack pushed Jessy back toward the door, next to Damien.

This was strange. Garry may have been an asshole, but he didn’t normally throw kine lives under the bus; typical Carthian drama, protectors of the people, shit like that. If he was willing to let Long kill kine just to piss off the Invictus, then he was looking to poke the bear, maybe start a fight, or instigate an outright battle. The timing was atrocious, or perfect, if Garry had some plan the Invictus didn’t know about. Likely; Garry was smarter than he appeared.

“This is an awkward situation,” Damien said, stepping forward. “We came here to talk to Long, and to make sure he realized Terra Den, and he in particular, were not in a position to challenge Xnomina. But if he is now Kindred, that complicates things.”

Complicate indeed. The timing of Long’s embrace was odd, and on top of that, Kindred usually groomed a kine before embracing them. So, Long might have known about Kindred well before his embrace, to the point multiple meetings with Xnomina were had with his knowing they were Kindred. It’d be tough to learn when and if Garry told him anything, if he wasn’t willing to share. And a punch to the face from Jessy probably shut the door on that idea.

“Long told me,” Garry said, shrugging. “That’s why I’m here. Making sure you don’t hurt my childe.”

“Antoinette is ok with this?” Jack said. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, though. Mister Tones threw him a glare, with a tiny smirk to go with it. Yeah, his relationship with Antoinette wasn’t going to help him here.

“She is. As per the Prince’s law, when she opened the floor to siring again, I talked with her to make sure this was allowed.” The bastard licked his teeth, and his smirk grew. “Surprised she didn’t tell you, short stuff.”

“ ... did ... did you sire this guy, just to know if Antoinette was telling me things that’d help the Invictus?”

“Nah. I sired him because Long is a friend, and he’s earned this.”

Jack didn’t believe him. Much as Garry was a typical Gangrel, aggressive and direct, he was also an elder, and that meant an ability to lie. Dance the Danse.

Damien sighed, shook his head, and tossed a glare back at Montoya before looking to Garry again. “This is ill timed, Mister Tones. We have hunters at our door, and—”

“Shut up, church boy,” Garry said. “If it wasn’t for the Prince, I’d kill you myself, right now. Lucas’s childe? You’re nothing but a thorn in my side. And you two?” Garry pointed to Jack and Jessy. “Invictus dogs, nothing more.”

Something was off. Something was going on, something not obvious on the surface. Why Garry was pulling this shit, Jack didn’t know, but it wasn’t for the reasons he was saying. Or maybe it was for those reasons, and Garry was combining two motives.

“I don’t believe this.” Marching left and right, Jessy kept her glare on Garry and Long, each turn of her body an opportunity for her to posture and growl. “You’re messing in Invictus affairs, directly at that, Tones.”

“Could say the same about the Mirrden district.”

“We don’t have time for this!” She threw up her hands, and stomped for the door. “Let’s go, boys. This is a matter for the council.”

“Speaking of the council,” Garry said, eyes hard and glaring, “keep an eye on that Maria bitch, would you? She’s messing with shit, and it’s going to backfire.”

Damien and Jack froze, while Jessy turned around again.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“I’m saying, Maria’s fucking with nasty shit. I’m not sure what, I’m not sure how, but she’s going to screw up, and bring hellfire on the city.” He tapped his nose, and nodded. “A warning.”

Frowning, Jessy turned back to the door, and the three of them left. With Jessy a little ahead of them, Jack and Damien looked at each other, and winced. Yet another possible source of the unknown danger looming over the city. Fucking great.

Isabella’s hideout was beautiful, and creepy. The underground cave, the candles, the blatant Victorian clothing, and furnishings Jack was sure he’d seen in Julias’s mansion. It wasn’t like the underground labyrinth of the Elysium Tower, but it was still damn impressive. It’d have taken many years to carve this hole out of the ground, and more besides to do it underneath the old theater.

“No no no! Passion, my dear boy. Passion!” Isabella’s voice. Her arms were around her chest, pressing to her breasts and raising them slightly; on purpose, no doubt. Other vamps were standing around, and watching a male and female vampire in the center of the group, kissing. Guess they were practicing for a play.

Jack smiled as Hella brought him into the main chamber of the cave, and gestured for him to sit in one of the fancy chairs. He did, and took a moment to admire its soft, red cushion, and the wood finishing. How did they sneak shit like this down here?

The girl backed off from her kissing partner. A skinny thing, with long blond hair and pale skin. Cute, and beautiful.

“Vanessa, it may be the boy cannot kiss you passionately, because you keep backing away!” Isabella said, snapping her fingers and motioning for the girl to step back in. Ok, she may have been cute and beautiful, but maybe her acting skills weren’t up to par.

“Or because Jeremy is gay,” she said, scoffing and and folding her arms across her chest. Unlike Isabella, she did it defensively; didn’t like having her acting questioned, apparently. It was enough to earn a chuckle from the crowd, and a scowl from Isabella.

“Irrelevant. We are acting.” Isabella marched up, grabbed Jeremy, and kissed him.

Jack raised a brow, and so did Hella, before the Gangrel laughed. Yeah, Isabella was dedicated to the craft, because god damn. She pulled Jeremy in close, and laid it on him. She was a tall woman, and the ornate arrangement of blond braids she sported were done up in a spiraling crown on her head tonight. Seeing someone like that, with her sharp chin and ice blue eyes, grabbing a man and kissing him, was kind of arousing. The fact both Jeremy and Isabella were gay made it awkward, but getting over that sort of stuff was part of acting, he supposed. It was the similarity between them, and Antoinette and Jack, physically, that was arousing.

Isabella was fucking hot, in a classic Victorian queen fantasy sort of way. Antoinette was a bit taller, and her bust was bigger, but that didn’t change that Isabella was both tall, busty, and lean and curvy with pronounced hips. Wearing a black see-through robe with a full corset and flowing skirt underneath, Jack couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Isabella was gay, and Antoinette was hardly against have women in the bedroom; Ashley and Julee, of course. The idea of Isabella and Antoinette, legs locked, kissing, naked breasts pressing to each other? God damn.

Something about the sight of a busty lady in a corset, being aggressive, that made him want to lie down in her bed and let her do whatever she wanted, and ask her if he could do whatever she wanted. A glance Hella’s way suggested she might have been into the same thing, considering the way she was smiling at Isabella’s aggressiveness. He’d figured Hella was an aggressive type, but then, so too was Isabella. Maybe one of them was different behind closed doors, timid and submissive. Maybe not, and they liked to fight for the top position, heh.

For the love of god, Jack. Get your mind out of the ditch, and onto the task at hand.

“You see?” Isabella said, and stepped back. “Your movements must be exaggerated and pronounced. The audience cannot see the batting of your eyelashes, dear. They will see the bent knee, the pressing of your breasts to his chest, and the gripping of his back with your hands.”

Made sense, like a book cover; useless if the thumbnail wasn’t eye catching.

The students resumed their scene. Some more tips from Isabella, mostly about ‘passion’ this and ‘passion’ that, before they broke for the evening. Satisfied, Isabella came over to sit on the edge of her four-poster bed. The luxurious wood sat perfectly level, despite being on the uneven ground of the smoothed cave floor. White sheets this time, pristine white, in contrast — or in defiance — to the dirt of the cave. Then again, it was damn clean, for a cave.

Hella sat beside her, then slid behind her, reached around for her lover’s stomach, and undid the robe. Isabella kept it on, but with it opened, she leaned forward a little as she hooked her hands on her knees, one over the other. The angle and corset meant the upper half of her large breasts were on display like melons on a platter. No wonder it was hard to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Hella was beautiful too, in a ‘I’ll kick your ass at rugby’ sort of way. Her dark eyes, fit body, and tan skin were gorgeous, and reminded him a lot of Clara. Oh, reminder: go see Clara, and see how things are going with Eric.

“What brings you to my humble abode, Master Terry?” she said. “Or, Mister Terry, I would imagine? A Right Hand has earned his place, after all.”

He squinted at her with one eye, and looked to Hella for a read. The Gangrel smirked, for a second, before she noticed his looking, and wiped it away. The Daeva probably didn’t like that he got the promotion then; which made sense, considering she was one of the few ancilla in the city, and was passed up on the promotion for him. Must have bothered her. Hopefully her Invictus loyalty would keep this interaction fruitful.

“Madam Laeuvion, I had a couple questions for you.”

“By all means, ask. After the damage you did to the hunters who killed Master Tellern, I am more than willing to help.”

Oh, he didn’t see that coming. Especially the flirtatious gaze that came after. She was manipulating, exploiting her body and her gaze, and trying to twist him around her finger. Well fuck, she was good at it. Fucking Daeva. But her thanks for his blow against the hunters, a sort of revenge for Barry, must have been legit, considering the original request she’d made, before he was a Right Hand.

“Unfortunately, Barry Tellern’s real killers remain at large; the hunters I managed to catch off guard were only pawns. And the hunters are partly what this visit is about.”

“Yes, of course.” Nodding, she snapped her fingers, and pointed to one of the students. One of the actors from earlier, a woman, still around and chatting with some of the other students, ran up in a jiffy. A very attractive woman, tan skin like Hella, but with softer features and gentler brown eyes. Her hair was black, and came down to her hips as several ponytails with intricate braid work. Definitely Isabella’s childe.

Jack hadn’t seen this girl before, and the beast in him said she was a young Kindred, younger than him. That was damn rare. He knew Antoinette had opened siring, but embracing new Kindred was a largely private affair. Only when they were ready, would a sire bring their new childe to the Invictus council, and only after that, show them to other Kindred.

Jack’s circumstance had been unusual. This girl’s was more normal, he imagined. Normal, and probably filled with sex, considering her sire was a Daeva.

“Miss Danny Florence,” Isabella said. “This is Mister Jack Terry.”

“Hello,” she said, offering a small bow. Dressed in a thin, black dress with blatant Victorian inspiration, like everything else in the room, she squirmed a little as she made eye contact with him. What had Isabella told her to make this new vampire afraid of him? Probably a comparison to Viktor, if he guessed right.

He raised a brow again, at Isabella, as she snapped her fingers, and pointed Danny at a nearby desk against the cave wall. Much as Isabella seemed to adore Victorian everything, she had a laptop on her desk. Power and internet, he was sure, with a wifi router hidden under the bed or something. He struggled to not smile at the thought, as Danny scooped up the laptop, and brought it over to Isabella.

“Your report to the council, about the old woman, was relayed to us. I have seen such a woman, in Devil’s Corner. Or rather, Hella has.” She turned the laptop, and showed him the picture.

Based on the angle, it was taken from a rooftop, similar to the mental images Scully and Mulder had tried to convey to him. A bird’s mind wasn’t a human mind though, and their attempts to convey details were pointless; might as well have been trying to understand colors outside the human viewing spectrum.

There was an old woman in a chair, with a respirator on the wheelchair’s back, and someone was pushing it. A random man with no identifying marks other than that he was wearing a gray hoodie that hid the features. He took a second to scan the hoodie for any brand marks, but there were none; a typical tactic to avoid being easily recognized. There were a couple other people as well, a man and woman, walking beside the chair. If they’d been talking to the old woman, it’d have looked normal, but they weren’t. Looked more like they were standing guard.

The next picture showed them entering an apartment building. Just some random, shitty apartment building in Devil’s Corner. But a specific building, with an address and everything. A million times better than anything he had.

“Amazing,” he said, and beamed at Hella. “Thanks.”

“No problem, kid.” With a shrug, Hella set her chin on the woman’s shoulder, as she also set her legs to dangle off the bed, around Isabella’s. “What’s your next move?”

“Not sure. Gonna take this to my sire. Finally got some kind of actionable evidence.”

“If she’s the woman you’re looking for,” Isabella said.

“Yeah, true. Think I should send a scout to find out, first?”

The icy woman shrugged. “A question for your sire, Mister Mire. But, a scout would be dangerous. If the scout alerts them to their presence, it could spell doom for said Kindred. Or the hunters will simply flee, and scurry into the cracks of the city like the cockroaches that they are.” Again, she snapped her fingers, pointed at Danny, and then pointed at the bed.

Jack raised a brow, and watched Danny sit on the bed’s side, and begin to undo her shoes. He glanced around, and noticed the other members of her group were gone. Just him and the three Kindred that, he assumed, shared a bed. Not an assumption anymore, considering Danny was peeking at him over her shoulder, as she started undoing the string-wrap buttons of her shirt.

She looked shy, and timid, just like he must have that first night with Antoinette. And he had to admit, that timid, shy look was a real turn on. If he was a more aggressive fellow, he could see how arousing that’d be, to have someone meek and shy under your touch, helpless to stop you as you make them cum their brains out.

But it was also terrifying to be that person, and he had no reason to make things harder on her. He got up, saved the apartment building’s address on his phone, texted it to Damien and Jessy — on delay until he was out of the cave — and nodded to Isabella and Hella.

“I’ll bring this up with my partners, and we’ll decide from there. Thank you again.”

“Oh? You do not wish to watch?” Isabella smirked at him, almost a sneer, and leaned back against Hella. Either they’d rehearsed this, or they rode the same wavelength pretty well, because Hella reached around her lover’s waist, and started undoing the lace of the corset. Each tug of her fingers caused the two large mounds behind its over-bust shape to tremble lightly with the movements, and he had to admit, he stared at them for a second longer than he should have. Maybe two.

“Watch? I uh, I have a girlfriend as you know, and—”

“Watch, not join. The Prince shares a passion for the theatrical display of sexuality, does she not?” Isabella’s smirk remained. She wasn’t offering to put on a sex show because she wanted to perform. She was offering so she could trap him in a bad situation, break him, manipulate him, like he was nothing more than a sex obsessed teenager. “The Prince enjoyed inviting others to create a sexual spectacle, at the ball. And I admit, it was a terribly enjoyable experience.”

He hesitated again. Not his fault! His penis had a mind of its own, and it was very much wanting to see the three women do things to each other. But he wasn’t thirteen anymore. He could control his dick. Mostly.

“Pass, but thank you for the very, very ... very tempting offer.” He made a small bow, and turned to leave.

“Mister Terry,” Isabella said, leaning back and setting her head against Hella’s neck, as the Gangrel slid off her corset. Breasts. Large, heavy breasts. Jack forced his eyes down and away. God damn it, woman. “Have you been watching the council?”

“Watching the council? You mean—”

“I mean, it is in any Kindred’s prerogative to keep an eye on other Kindred, Mister Terry. We are, after all, territorial creatures. And those who have been keeping an open eye and ear, will have no doubt noticed a buzzing noise. Something about the Madam Turio, and a dangerous game she plays?”

What the ever-living fuck. Garry had mentioned that only a fucking hour ago. What the hell.

“Where ... did you hear that?” He looked over his shoulder at her, half to hold a dramatic, Ventrue pose, and half to make it easier to not look directly at her naked torso.

“Vicky and Parker, through a friend of a friend of a friend.”

Vicky and Parker. This was getting ridiculous. How many things kept pointing at those two, and now several people pointed at Maria, too. Why Maria? What could she be doing that had everyone so concerned and aware?

“Thanks, for telling me.” Even though it reeked of manipulation.

Jack offered a nod, and gulped as he watched Hella and Danny both begin to kiss Isabella’s neck, while caressing and massaging her heavy breasts from behind her.

Yeah, get out now.

~~Natasha~~

They followed her to the shower, again. She was worried they’d want more sex, and kind of excited they might too, but three orgasms for each boy was enough to keep them satisfied for at least a couple hours. Werewolves were unendingly horny, she realized far too late into this relationship. Art grabbed the soap, Matt grabbed the shampoo, and they got to work pampering her; also, cleaning up their mess, because both wolves had taken it upon themselves to coat her in their cum. Something about being covered in their seed was so dirty, and naughty, and primal, that it tickled something inside her, made her squeal and squirm and give her best doe eyes. And if she gave them those doe eyes right now, as they washed the cum from her skin, they’d probably fuck her again.

But, enough was enough. For now.

“You know Tash,” Art said, on a knee in front of her, and one of her legs in his hands as he soaped it, “we don’t know much about you.”

“You d-don’t?”

“Nope.” Matt stood behind her, and started working his fingers in her hair with the shampoo. Oh, oh, heavenly. The shower was becoming a frequent place for conversation, considering how often they had to use it, post sex.

“Yeah.” Arts hands worked the soap up and down her leg, massaging as much as washing. “Who were your parents? What sort of life did you live before becoming a vampire? That sort of stuff.”

“Oh ... um, well, Kindred don’t usually talk about that kind of stuff, you know? It’s like, um ... that p-p-part of us died when we were embraced. We’re on our second lives n-now, and we ... we try and focus on that.” Not always successfully.

They nodded, and hmmm’d a few times, in sync with each other.

“All Kindred do that?” Matt said.

“W-We do, as we age. It’s important, b-because if we don’t, those old memories can really ... tie us down. We’re n-not like you, alive. Kindred are undead things, and that means we can b-be a b-b-bit static. Old memories can be an anchor, in a b-bad way.” Trying to explain it was difficult. How to get across that Kindred were literally dead things, pretending to be living things, and that it was easy for a dead thing to get trapped by the unchanging state of their minds, was more or less impossible. Torpor changed a Kindred’s mind, not aging; they didn’t age anymore.

“Still hard to believe that you’re older than me. I mean, just look at this thing.” Art set both hands around her vulva, and pulled her apart, earning a squeak from her. “This thing is so damn tiny! And you shave it smooth.”

She pounded both her small fists on his huge shoulders, until the brute stopped opening her entrance like she was a bag of chips!

“You! You ... you two should trim some of that hair off. It’s n-normal, in a city like Dolareido, t-to trim off or shave off p-pubic hair.”

The two wolves looked down at their naked bodies, and shrugged. “Sure,” they said.

Well, that was easy.

“You don’t ... d-don’t have to wax it, or anything.”

“Good fucking god!” Matt jumped back, and hit his back against the wall of the shower. Big tub, big shower, but not enough for the man. “I didn’t even consider that!”

Giggling, she turned around, and pat the big guy on his stomach. “Relax! I s-said you d-d-don’t have to. Just shave, or trim.” Matt was a typical mountain man, big and gruff, lots of body hair. It looked good on him, but she spent her first and second life in Dolareido. In such cities, fashion was always on the mind, and quick to adopt the newest fads. Maybe some day, it’d be with plenty of hair again, but for a good twenty years now, it was to go hairless.

Easy for her to do. She shaved her body down once, and simply didn’t regrow it unless she wanted to. Laughing, she thought of Art and Matt shaving themselves down, only to regrow all their hair in a puff of comedic smoke.

With her back turned to Art, she should have predicted the man would take advantage. She squeaked, and tried to turn around, but he didn’t let her, one hand gripping her hip while the other soaped up her butt. Ah well, it needed to be cleaned anyway.

“Prince tell you about the new Uratha in town?” Art said.

“Um, only a little. Eric, r-right?” Jessy and Tash had both seen him, talked to him, but before they knew he was a werewolf.

“Yeah.” Matt set his hands on her head, and continued shampooing her hair, from the front this time. “We haven’t see him yet. Avery’s description is he’s a black dude, average height, shaved head, clean shaven.” His smile was so warm, and she returned it as she took a loofa, and started lathering his body too. Like washing steel.

Right. Nodding, she reached up, and washed the man’s shoulders as best she could from so far below. “W-Works at Bloodlust.”

“We should pay him a visit,” Art said. “But, Clara said he’s not too interested in us.”

“He doesn’t want to learn ab-bout ... who he is?”

Matt shook his head, and turned her around to begin washing her back. “When you first change, you get some memories bestowed on you, from Luna.”

A cough drew both their eyes down to Art. “Just because the transformation gives us memories, doesn’t mean it came from the moon.” Apparently, he didn’t agree.

“Luna is more than the moon.” Matt’s grip on Tash’s back got a little harder. Not uncomfortable, but awkward.

“Says you.”

“Come on, Art. David spoke to the spirits. They said come here. Avery herself said the visions—”

“You ever had a vision, Matt?”

“No, but—”

“How many times we have to have this discussion? We have no proof, just someone’s word.”

“You sound like Noah. You don’t trust Avery?”

“That’s not what I said.”

If Natasha could shrink her tiny body more than it already was naturally, she would. Art and Matt were joined-at-the-hip friends, and to hear them start arguing was very strange. Stranger, because they were all naked, and she was standing between them, getting washed.

She looked up over her shoulder at Matt. He wasn’t the same as Art. Art was a skeptic, and Matt was not. Tash was a skeptic, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the power of someone’s commitment to someone else.

And then there was Matt’s past. He lost his family. Part of her wanted to ask for more details about that, but then she avoided the issue when they asked about her previous life; quite the little hypocrite she was. She could talk about her parents, if she could dig up the memories, if she could find the strength to wade through that shithole.

“Let’s ... g-go see Eric,” she said. Redirecting their energy toward something more productive should hopefully be a good idea. Look at her, being a mom.

Eric did not want to be seen, not by Matt and Art anyway. One glance their way and the young Uratha scowled. He was a good scowler; maybe he practiced it, for his old fighting job. It was enough to give Tash pause, for sure. Matt and Art nudged her forward, and she gulped as she came in closer to the man. He was up on the second floor by the stairs, one elbow on the railing, and looking down at the small crowd below. So much more intimidating than that time she’d caught Jessy fucking him in a booth; his first change must have changed him in ways she could never fathom.

She managed a small smile at him. He looked great in a suit, but reeked of the sort of man who hated suits. A shame, Antoinette would say.

“Hello Eric,” she said. “This is Art-turo, and Matthew.”

“I suppose you’re with Avery.” Venom dripped form his words. Something must have pissed him off, and it had to be related to Avery. Weird, considering Avery should be helping the man. But Art and Matt said he wasn’t interested; still, she was hoping that was exaggeration. Apparently not.

Art raised a hand in a small wave. “Ni-zu tag,” he said. Tash raised a brow. Whatever he said, it was enough to make Eric snort, and set his gaze back to the crowd underneath them. “Knew you’d be an asshole.”

Natasha facepalmed. Ok, if Avery acted like that with Eric on their first meet, she couldn’t blame the bouncer for being annoyed.

But Art’s words managed to pull a small smile from Eric, before he turned to face them full on, one elbow on the railing.

“Seems to be a common attribute among our kind.”

Matt, behind Art, pat his friend on the shoulders, both hands. “I take offense to that. Not all of us are like Noah or Avery, or this asshole right here.”

Art elbowed Matt in the gut, hard enough to earn a grunt and backstep from him, before Art stepped around Eric and came to the railing as well. “Avery says she gets the impression you want to be a ghost wolf.”

“Ghost wolf?”

“Yeah.” Matt came in as well, but he made sure to put Tash between him and Eric, by the railing. Nice of him, to include her; or he was trying to keep some distance from the mean man. “Means you don’t bother with the joining a pack and being a part of the great hunt.”

“Not actively, at least,” Art said.

“Then, yeah, I guess that describes me pretty well.” Eric shrugged, and glanced up at both Art and Matt. Much as Tash could tell Eric was a strong, deadly fellow, Art was a tall guy, and Matt was a giant. He looked small, in comparison. “Got no interest in your pack, or whatever.”

Smirking, Art looked down at the crowd. “You don’t want a piece of the pack, I get that. But Siskur-Dah is in your blood now. It’ll come to you, or you’ll go to it. Unavoidable.”