Chapter 91

~~Beatrice~~

The two vampires jumped up and spun around, looking around in the dark. That voice. She recognized that voice. What the fuck, why was it here? Both of them pulled out their phones and started shining them around, but the catacomb was empty.

“You ... you can’t be here,” she said. “No one’s ... no one’s been sacrificed.” Jen stepped in closer to her, and pressed her shoulder to hers, enough for Triss to feel her friend trembling. While Triss was still shaking because her world had been destroyed, Jen was shaking because she was scared. Black Blood, without Jacob nearby? Shit. Fucking shit.

Black mist began to drip from the stones above, and out of the coffin Triss had destroyed. It fell over the stones, the bones she’d scattered everywhere, and the rocks and dirt. Oh fuck, oh fucking fuck. She backed away, and tried to move toward the exit, spine to the stone shelves behind her, and free hand taking Jen’s, but the dripping black began to fall over the exit and its stairs. More of it came down, and more, until it dripped down over the stairs like heavy mist on a cold lake come morning.

The bones started to move.

“The sacrifice is useful for summoning me, little missy. But, you think I can’t come and go as I please, where I please, talk with who I please?” With quiet little clacks, the bones rolled, hitting the stone floor with soft bounces that echoed, now that Triss and Jen had gone silent. Shattered bones came back together, bits of white dust, and splintered shards found each other to reform. An arm with its hand and fingers still attached started to drag itself across the floor, and she almost laughed at how ridiculous it looked, before she remembered why it was doing that.

Jen shook her head, eyes wide as she watched the skeletons put themselves back together. “W-What do you want?”

“Why, to talk, like I said.” He — err, it — was using that damn Southern accent again, complete with a drawl, but she couldn’t focus on it, as if it was coming from around them.

“Jacob isn’t here. Go talk to him.” Triss took a step toward the exit again, but stepped back, as two skeletons began to form from the hundreds of bones. They sat on the stairs, and they moved like people moved, complete with shrugs, and giving each other some buddy pats on the back. One of them took off its jaw bone, looked at it, and traded it with the other, who nodded in agreement.

Did Jacob get his stupid sense of humor from Black Blood, or the other way around?

“And I will, young lady, I will. But I want to talk to you first, before Malachi does.” One of the skeletons took off its head, and set it on its lap. The voice continued to come from all around the two Kindred, despite how the spirit was obviously drawing their attention the two puppets. “I could hear your screams, you know, on the other side.”

“What? How?”

“This is my city, young lady. I have ears everywhere, and eyes, too. Besides, the little vampire boy did something truly wondrous, and every spirit on my side of the curtain noticed.”

She blinked, and did her best to not stare too hard at the skull sitting on the skeleton’s leg; it wasn’t doing the talking. The voice came from the black mist that dripped around them, that filled the small cracks and dents in the stone floor, that leaked out of the coffins around them. Any second now, every skeleton was going to climb out of their coffins, and do a fucking dance from some bad old Western, sexy burlesque movie scene.

“B-Black Blood,” Jen said, “I ... I mean, we really don’t have permission to be talking with you, without Ja—Malachi around.”

“We’re just talkin’, sweet pea,” the alien god said. It must have had a library in its head of annoying pet names for women. “Besides, ain’t nothing I’m gonna say, you can’t say to him later.” While one skeleton pat the skull still perched upon its leg, the other slapped its own knee, as if excited. Triss wouldn’t have been surprised if the skeleton thought it was at a shindig.

“ ... fine,” Triss said. She forced down the rising vitae in her body, readying her for fight or flight, and lowered her phone. The light stayed on though, in case the fucker decided to get uppity. “What do you know?”

“That your world has been destroyed.”

The words cut her down, and she almost fell with them. The fucker, the god damn fucking alien creature, knew what words to use to sucker punch her. It knew exactly what it was talking about.

“You know...”

“Julias Mire, is dead, yes. Though I only saw the aftermath, as his childe called an unholy reckoning upon his attackers. A beautiful sight, seeing the boy get revenge. Well, not quite, seeing as how the bitch and her old shaman vamoosed. Still, he caught the nightmare creature, killed at least three other hunters, and he awakened a creature the likes of which I’ve never seen.”

She raised an eyebrow, and looked around more in a futile attempt to find the source of the voice. “Awakened?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself, little lady. But, what he did, hoo-wee, felt that storm brewing throughout the whole damn city.” One skeleton slapped his knee again. “I’m fixin’ to learn what he did, but that’s not why I’m here. I came here, to talk to you, Beatrice.”

“Why?”

“I reckon now you and Malachi share something in common. And I’ll tell you, same thing I told him.” Silence followed, as if the thing was pondering. Maybe it was. What sort of things did a fucking god ponder? “That fancy blood magic, Crúac, that you witches like to use, it can do more than you think. Jacob’s only let you touch the surface, because he knows how deep the rabbit hole goes.” Naturally, it was going to make an Alice in Wonderland reference. Or the Matrix.

She stood up straighter, and stared at the two skeletons on the stairs, her snakes eyes growing wider. “How deep does it go?”

“Deep.” The voice rolled with bass, causing some pebbles around Triss’s feet to vibrate and move. “Very deep. Deep until all you can find, is shadow. Cold, unending shadow. Ain’t nothin’ down there for living folk, but an undead creature like a vampire? Just maybe you can make some use of the oblivion beneath us all.” It laughed. “You want to find the person responsible for your lover’s death? Fixin’ to kill em, get revenge?”

“Of course.” No point in beating around that bush. Of course she fucking wanted revenge.

“Triss,” Jen said, “you ... you shouldn’t...”

No, she shouldn’t. This reeked of ‘sell your soul for a chance to see Wanda again’. And for the first time in her whole damn fucking life, and second life, she understood why Al took that bargain.

“I’m not making any deals with—”

The darkness chuckled, the deep voice taking on multiple layers, filled with rumbling bass that caused some of the unused bones to rattle on the stone. “Bless your heart, girl. I don’t mean to trick you. Putting all the cards on the table. Anything I say, will be straight. You want to get revenge? You want to find this woman what killed your man?”

“ ... fuck, yes, I do. Christ, I want to, I really ... I ... I have to. I have to find her, them, all of them. I have to ... I...” The pain came for her again. She hugged herself, clutched her arms in her palms, forearms across her chest, and she started to shake. Her back pressed to the stone behind her, and she struggled to not collapse again. She’d collapsed twice tonight, and she’d hate herself if she went for a third.

“Then let this idea percolate in your mind for a week or two, vampire. Think about how much pain you can endure. Then, think about how much blood you’re willing to spill, yours, and your sacrifices’. If you’re willing to drown the streets in red, well then, I think you might just have what it takes.” A pretty blatant hint that, whatever rabbit hole she’d be going down, murder would be involved, lots of it.

“I’ve killed before.” Scumbags that deserved it, but still.

Again, the darkness laughed, and a mix of its alien voice and Southern accent filled the small catacomb.

“That you have, little missy. I can see it on you, dripping off you, the color of murder, of a killer.” Another chuckle, but it was the words he used that sent a painful shiver up her spine. “That’s good. Takes a real predator to be a witch, Beatrice. And, if you really want to do the things ancient witches could do, the things Jacob can do, you gotta be willing to swim in blood, and death.”

“I—”

“I said think about it, kid. You’re in no shape to make any decisions now. In a couple weeks, when you’re not as mad as a wet hen, talk to Malachi about it. Tell him I said I’m on board.”

“This...” She looked over at Jen, and frowned. Her friend looked worried, very worried, but considering the direction the conversation was going, that made sense. Sighing, Triss pat her friend’s fingers where they sat on her shoulder. “This is about Minerva, isn’t it?”

“Poor Minerva, cut down by dogs, just cause she wanted to punch a hole through the Gauntlet.”

“She ... she what?” Holy shit.

“Now don’t go telling anyone I told you,” the ancient colossal god entity said, “but Minerva was trying to build a bridge in the barrier that separates us spirits from you physical types. Avery didn’t much appreciate that, seeing as her whole reason for existing is to stop spirits and flesh from intermingling, right?”

Ok, whoa, key information. She set aside her life destroying, overwhelming misery for a few seconds — it’d still be there when she came back to it — and focused on the insanity Black Blood just dumped on her.

“Sounds like she didn’t succeed.” The only spirit she’d ever really dealt with was Black Blood, but from what she knew, the other side was filled with all sorts of random crap personified. Letting people come and go, and letting spirits come and go between the wall that separated the physical reality she knew, and an entirely new reality she knew fuck all about, sounded unsafe. Much as Triss was curious about the other side, Jack had seen it, and had mentioned how fucking scary and dangerous it was. Hell, her only experience with it was some oozing black god thing of death and power, and a giant spider monster that’d killed a fucking werewolf.

“No, our poor Minerva did not succeed. She thought there was ... I’ve said too much, honestly. Crossed a line. This is Malachi’s story to tell, not mine.” Unless Triss was hallucinating, that sounded like regret in Black Blood’s voice. Was it even capable of that feeling? “I digress. The point of this tale, this conversation, is simple little vampire. You’ve a talent, and if you’re willing to swim in death and blood, revenge is within your reach. Maybe more.”

More? The fuck did more mean? She stared at the floor for a moment, before leaning her head toward Jen, who leaned in as well, letting her head touch hers.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good answer.” The black mist began to fade, and the two skeletons at the stairway collapsed into broken shards and white dust.

“Hey, wait! Did ... did Jacob ever ... try and ... revive Minerva? Use Crúac to resurrect her, or something?”

The Black Mist let out a long sigh, and continued to fade. “He did, little missy, that he did.”

“So he failed.” A tiny, shining little spot of hope, in the endless obsidian, destroyed.

“He did. But that don’t mean it can’t be done, vampire. Or that we don’t know how.”

She stood up straight and pushed away from the wall. “Wait! What the fuck does that mean!? ... Black Blood?” Silence. The black mist was gone, and the heavy weight she felt like she was drowning in left with it.

Jen gasped, and stepped over to the pile of bones. A nudge of her foot suggested they were no longer possessed, but it wasn’t exactly enough to settle Triss’s nerves, or Jen’s. “I never really wanted to know, if Jacob had ever tried something like ... resurrection.” She used her foot, and started scooping bones away from the stairs like she had a broom. “You know, you just know, something like that would be horrible, Triss. I mean, considering how horrible Crúac is normally, can you imagine what you’d have to do to actually revive someone?”

Beatrice stared down at the floor, and then her claws, her sharp, Nosferatu claws. “Yeah ... yeah.”

“Triss, please. Don’t—”

“Black Blood said give it some time, right? That’s what I’ll do. But I want to know, Jen. I want to know if it’s possible, and what I’d have to do.”

“Jacob hasn’t done it! And I doubt that man has any barriers left he won’t cross.”

“Maybe ... maybe...” Then again, maybe not.

~~Jack~~

He went back into the elevator, and hit one of the higher numbers. With no one else in the elevator this time, he was free to step back, and let his back press to the wall. He could get through this. Julias’s death wouldn’t break him. He had a job to do, and until it was done, he couldn’t let the man’s death bring him down.

Jack scowled. You don’t get a say. Since when could you talk?

I ... broke your chains, so you could help me kill these hunters and save my mother.

So, are you a voice inside my head? Did I awake a new personality? Or did I summon some ancient entity into me? Or, was that—

You’re me?

You’re ... my Beast?

Fun. Like the woman in my dream, sitting on top of a mountain of dead? The fun of a psychotic murderer?

Jack groaned, and rubbed his hands on his face. If he had to pick between becoming a mindless god of destruction like he originally thought might happen, or having some jackass whispering in his head, he’d have picked the former.

But you are going to try and recreate the carnage of those memories, of the ... First.

Fucking wonderful.

How nice of you, if I can even trust a word you’re saying.

And then he, or it, was gone. Jack could feel it, could feel the dark predator leave, feel it curl up and go to sleep in its den. He could feel the massive presence, the overwhelming power of it, the giant creature of shadow and claws, of fangs and beaks and talons and feathers, go to sleep. With it, it took the anger, the bubbling rage, the overflowing, scalding heat and fury that had been tearing Jack from the inside out, and silenced them.

For the first time in months, Jack didn’t feel rage boiling up through his guts. Thank god.

The voice didn’t sound like it was some sort of angry psychopath, but there was no denying that’s what it felt like. It spoke with a smooth copy of Jack’s inner voice, confident, insidious, and didn’t sound angry at all. But fuck, it felt angry. Or maybe angry wasn’t the word? It felt ... it felt like an animal, a hungry animal that expressed itself the way some animals do: violence, aggression, killing and hunting and slaughtering anything that violated its territory.

Maybe that’s what it meant, by saying it wasn’t accurate to call it his Beast. Whatever this thing was, its voice didn’t match the staggering ferocity and intensity that came with it.

He managed a small, weak smile. It was a bit of a relief, knowing that the mind-altering rage he’d been feeling for months now wasn’t his. Or at least, not entirely his.

As the elevator doors opened, he rubbed his hands on his face again, and tried to get his bearings. Everything had changed, everything. And, as much as it was horrible that his sister was dead, and Julias was dead, and now there was a fucking voice inside his head, it wasn’t all bad. One of those not-bad things was waiting for him in the office room he was approaching. It was up to him to make sure that not-bad thing, continued to be a not-bad thing. He had to be someone his mom could lean on, could rely on, could connect with, could come to when she wanted to talk about Mary, and someone she could hold when she wanted to cry.

He could be those things, right? Yes, he could. He was getting a second chance to fix this, and he was going to take it.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” his lover called.

He opened the door, looking down a bit as he did. Wow, holy shit his suit. Triss had been staring at it, but Jack didn’t realize how fucked up he looked until now. He was a fucking mess, suit riddled with holes and dried blood.

“Did you only realize now, my love?” Antoinette said, smiling at him as she sipped a glass of blood. His mom sat beside her, and her face lit up when she saw him, smile cutting through the misery etched into her face.

“Yeah. Haven’t had two seconds to think.” He came over, sat down, and smiled at his mom. “How you doing?”

“I’m ... I’m better than I was when I woke up.” The woman looked so meek, timid, scared, and he slid his chair in closer so he could sit within inches of her. He was fine sitting further, but he knew she wouldn’t be. Reason enough.

“I was explaining to your mother the basics of her new life, little Ventrue. She now knows of the bloodclans, of the Masquerade, of the threat of fire and sun, and of the Kiss.”

The Kiss. Jack managed a glance at his mom, and she managed a glance at him, before things got awkward quick. Yep, their conversation had gone to sex, because it often did when the Kiss was involved, especially in Dolareido.

He’d prefer an awkward conversation with his mom about sex, than the conversation he just had downstairs with Triss.

“I met Beatrice a moment ago,” he said. “It ... it went about as well as can be expected.” With a wince and groan, he showed his shoulders, leaning each forward in turn so both woman saw the new puncture marks. His mom didn’t get it, but the Prince did.

Antoinette nodded, but she held his gaze, something close to a smile on her face as she looked at him. She looked relieved. It couldn’t have been about the conversation with Triss, not from the expression he saw on her face. No, she was relieved that he, him, the Jack she knew, the guy that couldn’t help but throw himself onto pain and suffering like a grenade, was still there. He was glad, too. Really, really, really fucking glad.

Maybe letting his Beast out from whatever chains had been placed upon it, would be nothing but a good thing? Ha, yeah right.

“Beatrice,” Antoinette said to his mom, “was Julias’s lover, and is your son’s friend.”

“Oh. That’s ... horrible for her. I know what that’s like.” That she did. “So ... w-what now?”

“You are my priority for tonight, Samantha, and for several nights. I am fortuitous, in that my sheriff and his childe can handle many of my immediate priorities. Though I will have to take time to deal with our prisoner, it will not affect our time together.” She raised a hand, cutting off Samantha before she could say something. “You will have plenty of time to spend with your son, but I imagine Madam Turio, or Mister MacDonald, will be calling him soon.”

“Yeah. Damien went to talk to them, but there’s no chance they won’t want my follow up, tonight at that.” He leaned back in his chair and groaned, holding his forehead up with a few fingers. “They’re not going to be happy with me.”

“B-But you’ll ... you’re...” His poor mom. She was worried about him, wanted him to stay, and couldn’t wrap her mind around that he’d somehow become so involved in some sort of secret society. That he’d become a major figure in said society, must have seemed impossible to her.

He wasn’t about to tell his mother what he’d told the others, that he’d awoken some sort of empowered entity inside him. He only told the others because there was no way to keep it secret, what with the army of crows, and that Damien and Antoinette had seen him. He’d have told Julias in good faith, and even Antoinette; they’d have kept it to themselves, for a while at least. But with no way to avoid having Maria and Michael interrogating him, it was simply not possible for him to keep his change a secret. But the fact it could talk to him, he could keep to himself. For now.

“I’m pretty high up in the Invictus ranks, Mom. Invictus being my covenant, my ... political group, sort of. Lot of responsibilities. But hey, I make a six figure salary now.” That got an eyebrow raise, and even a hint of a smile. Of course she’d be happy he was doing well. She’d throw herself under a bus if she thought it’d get him a raise at a fast food joint. “And Antoinette is beyond rich.” That earned more eyebrow raises, bigger ones. His mom’s first thought was probably that it was great Jack was potentially marrying into money, not that she’d suddenly have access to fortunes as well. It was going to blow her mind, once she realized she’d be able to buy anything she wanted.

Antoinette laughed, a deeper, heartier sound Jack hadn’t expected. “True. And that brings us to the first barrier to your new life, Samantha.”

“Barrier?”

“Oui. You are a vampire now, Samantha, and now bound by the Masquerade. Abandoning the life once you had, is your first barrier. Your home, your job, friends, family, these are to be left behind.”

“Oh...” Sighing, she shrugged and looked down at her glass. “That’s not so bad. I ... I never made many friends, after James died. My job hasn’t felt very important or satisfying anymore. And after Jack disappeared, the ... the highlight of my day ... the only reason I had to stay in that life ... was Mary.”

The breaking point. No matter how many new things they threw at her, eventually the painful reality of last night was going to crash into her pysche again.

She set her glass down on the table, and started to cry. The sound of her sobs ripped through Jack like a chainsaw, and he set his arm around her, over both her shoulders. His mom couldn’t look up, but he knew what sort of face she’d be wearing, the face he’d seen through the window when spying on her, after his disappearance. Wrecked. Mortified. Devastated.

For now, he did nothing but sit with her, hug her, and wait. The Invictus could wait, too.

~~Damien~~

He gave his more, in-depth, detailed report as best he could, to Michael and Maria. They weren’t satisfied. If anything, they looked like he didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame them. Julias dying, and Jack having unleashed some sort of ancient curse, in the same night, was a lot to take in.

While they waited for Jessy and Jack to arrive, they confirmed what Damien said about the crows, and the lack of Julias Mire’s presence confirmed his death as well. The two council members looked confused, unsure, and that was a look Damien had never seen on their faces.

A couple hours later, all three Right Hands stood before the two remaining council members, within their main meeting room.

Jessy’s jaw dropped. “Julias is...”

“Mister Mire ... perished, last night.” Maria, standing beside the table, had her side to the three Right Hands who stood in a row at the table’s end. She was looking down, arms folded across her chest, while the big screen along the wall showed footage of the hospital. The corner showed live footage, while the main feed showed a recording she’d grabbed off the internet. Crows, thousands of crows, were swirling around the hospital, above it too, like some sort of concentrated hurricane.

“I don’t understand. How? And, what’s that? Who ... the fuck did that?” The Gangrel pointed at the screen. A hint of envy, perhaps, over the insane display of Animalism that she wouldn’t be able to manage for centuries.

The two elders looked to Jack, and waited. With a quiet sigh, Jack scratched his buzzed head, and looked to Jessy.

“I was visiting my mother in the hospital, after leaving my sweeper team ... early.” He looked to the two elders, probably awaiting warning of punishment. They said nothing, yet. “Julias came, to warn me about that sort of behavior, but also, to just ... help me, help with my situation. Then a massive blackout happened, wiped out power for several blocks, and blocked all communications. The hunters must have been using some sort of spell; no way to do all that, in a specific area, with tech, far as I know.”

“Holy shit.” Jessy shook her head, several times, jaw dropping once again.

Jack nodded. “Angela showed up, with a small group of hunters. She wanted to capture my m—Samantha Terry, to try and force my hand. I ... I don’t think she’s telling her hunters the truth. I think she’s motivated by revenge at this point, and she used my mom as a lie to get hunters to help her.”

Damien had only one short interaction with Angela, from a distance, and it’d been enough for him to see the woman was not quite sane. If the woman was actually deceiving her fellow hunters, that was a possible avenue of action. It also meant the woman was a maniac, and predicting or manipulating a psychopath wasn’t exactly easy.

“My sire and I went to stop them. We were succeeding, but, using one of our thrall’s blood, they drew a symbol on a wall, and created some sort of portal. Natasha Vola has explained to me that it’s some sort of tunnel to a ... flesh chamber? Something like a Begotten’s nightmare chamber, something used by their shaman Elen. The hunters are using it to move around, we think.”

The two elders nodded. Damien had explained this to them already, but Jack offered details he and they didn’t know. It was painting a more detailed image, and not one anyone was glad to hear about.

“Elen, Sándor, and several more hunters came out of the portal, and ... and we lost the fight.” The kid couldn’t help it anymore, and his eyes fell. His hands clenched, struggling to keep his sorrow suppressed, but everyone could see it.

“Council,” Damien said, “I saw Mister Terry moments after the fight. The evidence upon his person, his attire, was clear. He tried his hardest to—”

Michael raised a hand. While Maria was a little further away, Michael stood at the end of the table with the Right Hands, sitting back against its edge, arms folded across his chest. He did not look happy.

“He looks fine now, Mister Burksen.” It was true. Jack had no wounds, and a Ventrue his age shouldn’t have been able to heal from the gunshot wounds he’d suffered in a single night, not that many. He’d also changed into a clean suit.

“That ... leads me to my second point,” Jack continued. “In the fight, something ... happened to me.”

Maria looked his way, expression blank. “Something the hunters did?”

The small Ventrue shook his head. “No, this was ... something ... something in my bloodline.” That got some raised eyebrows from the two elders. “I saw glimpses of it, something connected to me, Mister Mire, Mister Honors ... and ... Kindred before. Something infected my great great grandsire, a long time ago, something I don’t understand. Owls. Shadowy owls.” Again, the two elders looked surprised, and Damien did as well. Jack had mentioned the dream and the curse, but he hadn’t said owls specifically.

“ ... the Strix have touched you,” Maria said. “Or rather, your ancestor.”

“Strix?” the three Right Hands said together.

Groaning, Michael pushed away from the table, and stepped past the Right Hands. They didn’t turn around, standing at attention. Michael paced left and right behind them, slow steps, along with some occasional, quiet grunts, as he contemplated. All in all, it was making Damien very nervous, seeing the two elders react this way. They’d been surprised when Damien had explained Jack was to blame for the crows, before this meeting, but now they looked hesitant, almost afraid.

“No one knows for sure what they are. They are dangerous, and they will haunt you, and ruin you, if you become the focus of their attentions,” Michael said at last. “If you see these owls of shadow, any of you, run. Do not interact with them. Do not speak to them. Escape, and report.”

Damien gulped, and saw his fellow Right Hands do the same.

“So, you have awakened this curse, Mister Terry?” Maria said.

“I ... the circumstance did. Whatever it was the ... Strix ... did, was sealed away by a Sanctified centuries ago. And, I guess, over the centuries and across multiple childer, the seal weakened.” Sighing, Jack forced his head up, and looked to the Nosferatu ghost woman with as much calm composure as he could muster. “I’m confident it’s why — at least partly why — my sire and Mister Honors were unusually skilled Ventrue, and why I’ve managed the things I have; the curse was able to exude its power, despite being sealed. It ... it awoke, fully, during the raid on the hospital. It violated the Masquerade.”