Chapter 64

~~Jack~~

Getting taken back to the real world was a curse and a blessing. Everything, everywhere, was teasing him with answers he couldn’t get to. What was the Ritual of Faces? Black Blood and the red wraiths, what did they have to do with the ritual, how were the hunters doing it, why were hunters and spirits working together, what did the red wraiths mean when they mentioned ‘who the monster speaks with ... the trail to their goal.’ Azamel? Were they talking about Azamel? If they were, how did they know Azamel was talking to him, and that he’d somehow be the way they’d get to her. How did the spirits know what he looked like?

All the answers were on the other side of the Gauntlet, and the Uratha weren’t going to let him stick his fingers into their world to find out.

“You should recognize this place,” Clara said, popping open a door behind one of the newer apartment buildings bordering on the Carthian edge of South Side and North Side. “Well, not this specific place, but you’ll know what’s going on.”

“I don’t—”

“A sex hole!” Fiona said, bubbling voice earning everyone’s glance. Too loud, too high pitched for the somber surroundings, the darkness and flickering lights, and the curved, unnatural bend to the street lamps. “I’ve been ‘ere, on the other side.”

“I ... don’t understand,” Damien said.

Carter smirked at him. “You have no idea how much this side bleeds into yours, no idea how much of the insane crap you glimpse is the work of spirits.” No doubt the older werewolf was looking for a chance to get back at the Mekhet; a little face rubbing of knowledge over ignorance wasn’t too dishonorable, evidently.

If Fiona was right, and it was a sex hole, Jack knew what he was going to find inside. Or at least, he knew what the physical version of it looked like. What would the spirit version look like?

Inside the building, there weren’t hallways or doors. Which made no sense, because it was an apartment building, like the one Jack and them had tried to find a hiding place in earlier. But this building, once they were inside, had none of that. The building was five floors high, and once inside, there was no ceiling on each floor; it was a big, open building.

The walls were pink and light blue, and curved in ways to emphasize the bumps and S shapes associated with flesh. From the ceiling dangled an enormous chandelier, twenty feet tall and a hundred feet in diameter, made of crystal, and lit with flames of mostly pink and blue again, with some lit as varying shades between. The human sexuality metaphor of the flame was blatant.

Some of the sex spirits Jack saw last time were here. Maybe not the same spirits, but the same idea, same premise, same shapes, colors and floating torsos of breasts, curves and musculature. They were swirling around what looked like, maybe, a five feet high mountain of pillows. It reached from wall to wall of the enormous building. That was a lot of pillows; thousands of pillows.

Near the center of the mountain of softness, was a larger spirit, perhaps ten feet tall, and with a shape far more developed and specific than the other spirits. She — it — looked human, to an extent. Curvy, with a flat stomach, wide hips, and heavy breasts that hung from gravity. She was lying sideways, her breasts smooshed to the blankets. Her multi-colored hair was unhumanly long, and flowing over the pillows, maybe twenty feet. Like the chandelier, her hair was pink and soft blue, but changing from one, to the other. Her skin color was similar, drifting between colors you’d not expect to find on any normal human. As much as her body looked developed, with fingernails, nipples, toes and legs, her face was a nebula of color. Hard to describe, hard to nail down in absolute terms, as if a woman had put on make-up that was a portal into the endless nether of stars, energy, and souls. Pretty.

“You come to my home, Clara? Flowing Sanctuary?” it said. A heavenly, singing voice, layered many times over. A choir, both male and female voices filling the massive room with echoing rapture.

“Just using the locus to get back across. Got a problem with that?” Clara said. “You and your sisters”—she raised her hands to physically quote ‘sisters’—”walk on thin ice already, don’t—”

The beautiful entity shook its head. “No, of course not, I ... I am surprised at your company though. Sexual little creatures, aren’t they?”

The two vampires and monster glanced between each other. “What?” they said.

“The one with no hair,” she said, and gestured to Jack. “Forever buried in sexuality, aren’t you? You are aging like a fine wine, as the humans would say. Whoever is enjoying your many layers of flavor in the bedroom, I hope they are mature enough to appreciate the depth you offer.”

“I ... I um...”

“And you.” The goddess of sexuality looked at Fiona, and smirked. “Many women are flowers waiting to bloom. You are a volcano, waiting to erupt, and unleash your lust upon all you wish.”

Damien, Jack, Clara and Carter, even Flow, then looked at Fiona, as the small girl blushed red enough to hide her freckles.

“You, half-haired one,” it said, with a flick of her hand toward Damien, “are a conundrum. But, I’m sure once you pierce the walls of your inner bliss, you’ll find you have pierced a dam, holding back a river of desire greater than most.”

Ok, wow, what a way to meet a spirit: a sexuality reading that had everyone feeling uncomfortable, except for Clara, who was doing her best to not laugh.

“Um ... thank you?” Jack said.

The enormous creature shrugged, rolling onto her stomach and settling her chin on her forearms. She looked so human, but wasn’t a she, and wasn’t human; it was something which looked human, but fed on the sexual atmosphere created in parts of Dolareido. Hell, created in all of Dolareido. Slut City.

Clara took a little longer staring at Jack, than he liked. He, apparently, was a fine wine of sexuality. Maybe she liked the sound of that. He didn’t get to ask. She placed a hand on his and Damien’s shoulders, and the three of them fell into nothingness.

Fog, white fog. Endless, encompassing, burying. It wasn’t the road, the portal, Fiona had used to bring them to this world. Whatever it was, Jack didn’t want to be in it, touching it, swallowed by it. It was not good to touch it. It didn’t want to be touched.

Images of waking up, trapped inside a brick wall assaulted Jack’s mind. He was in a wall. He was in a massive, world-encompassing wall. He was—

He was in Dolareido. The bunch of them stepped out onto asphalt, and into the night of normal, good ole normal Dolareido. No spirits scurrying along the cracks of the streets, no talking birds in the sky, no thunderstorms with names, and no red ghost things hunting him down.

“Thank the Lord,” Damien said with a sigh.

Groaning, Clara offered them a salute, and started walking off with Carter. No Flow; the spirit had stayed behind, as far as Jack’s eyes could see. “Stay out of the Hisil. We won’t always be around to save your ass.”

And just like that, they were gone; leaving two vampires and a monster standing behind an apartment building.

“We ... we should get back,” Jack said, “before sunrise.” He desperately needed a quiet moment to process the what-the-fuck his night had been.

“Aye! Please, hate to lose ye to the sun.” Fiona smiled at him, patted him on the back a few times, and started to walk off. Pausing, she added, “Ye know where Eric lives? I need to speak with him.”

“Um, yeah, Damien? Can you fill her in on his new place?”

“Sure.” He nodded, walking off with the girl.

Jack watched the two of them as they left. Fiona walked a foot behind Damien, to his side, and more than once, glanced at his ass. Volcano, indeed. Now, if only she could pierce Damien’s dam, the former assassin could find a little happiness of his own.

He dragged himself up the stairs of the Elysium tower. Tired, fucking God, oh, so damn tired. How much stuff could happen in one night? Sunrise wasn’t far off. All he wanted to do was lie down and let the softness of the Prince’s blankets lull him into the deepest torpor.

Sex? He didn’t think he wanted any, wrecked as he was, but seeing Antoinette had a habit of changing his mind. But, at least for the moment, he didn’t want sex. He wanted to melt into pudding and become one with the pleasant contours of a glass bowl. He wanted to be the blood he sipped from a champagne glass, settled and still, except for maybe the gentle ripples caused by someone nudging it. He wanted to become a cow, and graze on grass, without a care in the world.

Brain fried, yeap. Complete and total exhaustion sending his mind through loops and into strange dementia, conjuring odd imagery like one might if they hadn’t slept in days. He’d done that once, spent three days awake; using energy drinks to stay up, so he could study for exams and finish projects. Every illness around hit him after that, sinking him into bed with the flu, a cold, pink eye, and everything, in between, for three weeks. After that, he started taking better care of himself; he already was, thanks to Julias, but proper amounts of sleep became a priority after that.

He was hungry, starving, the need for blood itching in his veins. A strange feeling for a vampire, craving blood like a heroin addict, while needing sleep like an insomniac. Maybe Antoinette had Ashley and Julee nearby? A quick drink before sunrise, and he could pass right out. Like a kine, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, after a long day of skiing.

Mulder and Scully found him easily enough; not many short men walking around at this time of night, wearing a suit with shoes like his. They circled above for a little while, scanning the area, no doubt, before they came to him. Some thralls walked by, Antoinette’s servants, wearing suits and earpieces similar to Ventrue gear. They nodded, offering small smirks as they watched the two crows come to him. Summoning crows to do his bidding must have seemed very vampire-ish, maybe even cool.

Jack stepped to the side, sat on the stairs, and held out his hands in front of him, turned slightly sideways, so Mulder and Scully could each perch on a hand. They’d gotten the hang of not piercing his skin when they perched, making holding them so much easier and enjoyable.

“Anything to report?” he said. They both shook their heads. “Damn. Well, I’ve had a very productive night ... in a way. Keep an eye open for this.” He leaned in, and made a few clucks with his tongue, as he tapped into the minds of the two birds, conveying the best mental image he could of an old woman, a very old woman, in a wheel chair.

The two crows stood taller, cawed several times, and gazed into his eyes. Yes, they had seen someone like that, with several other two-legs watching over her.

“Could be a coincidence. Pretty sure most old ladies in wheel chairs would only be outside if they had friends or family with them. Still, if you see them, keep your eyes open.”

The two crows nodded. If there was one thing crows were good at it, it was keeping an eye on things.

“You two know I ran into a crow spirit? That a god you worship, or something?”

Scully tilted her head to the side, showing him her profile, and blinked her eye at him. Apparently they did not.

Jack clicked his tongue again, leaning closer. Trading images, scenes, and sounds with animals wasn’t easy. It required vitae to tap into the animalism discipline. Tired and drained as he was, he dug some up, and shared images of the crow spirit, City Sky. Mulder cawed in, what Jack could only assume was, envy.

But the idea of a deity, or worshiping something, was beyond their minds. Good. He smiled at his pets, set Scully on his other hand beside Mulder, and reached into his pocket to pull out some oats. It’d become an all-time thing by this point, to always carry some. They plucked it from his palm with their beaks. Poke poke, careful to not hurt him.

“Sorry I was gone so long. Shit happens. But, I’m sure you have things to occupy yourselves when I’m not around.” They cawed their yes. “Good. I’ll see you two later. Maybe in the future, I’ll see if I can convince the Prince to let you come inside.”

To his surprise, the two crows hopped up closer along his arm, claws careful with his suit jacket, and they each offered a nudge of their beaks against his shoulder, before flying off. A goodbye kiss, sort of. Where’d they pick up that trick?

Once inside the Elysium Tower, he went down the stairs, down and down, deeper into the black marble with white lightning cracks, past the statues of dragons, down and down, toward the giant vault door leading to Antoinette’s bed chamber.

She wasn’t there. No one was there. Ah, well. He sauntered toward the bed, dragging his feet more with each step, until he was sure there were boulders attached. But once he reached the enormous pile of silk, he stripped until naked, and climbed into the sheets on his belly. With another thirty minutes until sunrise, he couldn’t really sleep, but that didn’t mean his body didn’t want sleep. A weird mixture of his old body’s desire to sleep, combined with his new Kindred body being worn out from the bombardment of stress.

Melt away, stress, please melt away into the blankets. Melt—

“Oh, dear Ventrue. Naked already are we?” Antoinette’s voice. Oh thank god. He tried to turn over, to give the elder vampire the respect she deserved, and because he loved her and the least he could do was get up. But, instead, he groaned into the blankets. “Tired, I take it? You look gaunt. My pets, help him.”

Putting his palms to the sheet, he pushed himself to his knees, as Julee and Ashley joined him on the bed. They weren’t naked, or wearing anything sexual; either they knew he’d not be in the mood, or Antoinette wasn’t in the mood. They didn’t waste time either, getting close to him in their simple, colorful, pink and white pajamas.

He’d have said something, maybe how cute they were in the pajamas. But, no, too tired. They saw it, and a moment later, their necks were open to him, and he took a long drink from each. Two ghouls meant he didn’t have to drain them; combined, they provided more than enough blood. After the quick feed, both girls were able to walk away from the encounter, but now, were as exhausted as when he arrived; they’d go to the room, next door, to pass out, and sleep the Kiss away.

Antoinette sat beside him on the bed, still wearing a business power suit.

“ ... busy day?” he asked, nodding at her clothes.

She chuckled, and gestured at his nudity. “I could say the same for you. You look ready to collapse.”

“I ... I am.”

Raising a brow, she reached out, and nudged his shoulder. Collapse he did, face down, while the tall woman looked down from the side of the bed. The best he could offer her was a weak smile, his face pressed to a pillow, and turned to face her.

“Daniel has reported the details of the ritual he discovered. And ... I admit, that is a terrifying discovery.” She sat down next to him, skirt nudging against his hip. Shuffling fabric drew his eyes, and he watched her slide off her jacket, dark colors with padded shoulders, before she set her hand on his back. The power suit looked great on her, with its dark skirt and white blouse. He managed to take a peek at her legs, as she folded one over the other. Smooth, long, curvy, toned legs with milky, alabaster skin.

Got damn it, dick, stop! You’re supposed to be exhausted.

Yeah but, you just had a bunch of fresh blood to drink. You’re good to go!

He forced his eyes back to hers. No sex, stop it.

“That was ... honestly, only part of the mayhem tonight.”

“You may speak of it, if you wish. Whatever you do not think should be kept to the Invictus alone, you may discuss with me. No more holding the city at bay, remember?” She ran her hand up and down his back, soothing his spine, while her other hand started to undo her blouse.

“ ... I visited Azamel.”

“Did you, now? That is a dangerous game to play.”

“I thought she or Fiona might have information. If the ritual was done by the hunters, and the hunters are here for the Begotten, they might know something. Azamel did. She thinks an old woman is working with the hunters, some woman capable of the ritual.”

“That ... I did not know.” Antoinette stood up, slipped out of her skirt and blouse, then sat back down beside him. White bra and underwear, perfectly normal, not sexy or anything. But, it still looked damn sexy on her, boring or not. The ridiculously huge cups were almost comical, doing their best to cover and support her breasts. “That is useful information, Jack. Thank you for sharing it. I will make sure Daniel is aware.”

“ ... Fiona also took me into the Shadow World. We ran into some strange red wraith spirit things who are, probably, partly responsible for the ritual. Communicating with this shaman the hunters work with, I guess.” And they were linked to Black Blood, and they were linked to the ‘verge’ thing that Fiona had opened, and someone had ripped their way through the portal, and it was all linked to the warning Azamel gave them, and it was linked to the mysterious dark threat Daniel was investigating. Good God, what had his life become?

“I ... cannot say I agree with your choices, little Ventrue, but I admit that you have seen things of which I have only dreamed.” She slid closer, nudging him aside on the sheets, and lying on her side beside him. Soon, she was pressed to him, her bare breasts — she’d taken her bra off in a smooth, slipping motion as she lay on the bed — pressed to his arm, her leg sliding over his. “What was it like?”

He was mostly on his belly, but turned on his side a little, to face her so he could lay his head on his arm and the pillow. With her in underwear, and pressed to him, the meal he’d just had started to tingle along his skin. Her amber, almost crimson, gaze from just a foot away, and her heavy breasts smooshed against his arm, were so terribly inviting.

“It was ... terrifying ... weird ... and ... and it was Dolareido.”

“A shadow of Dolareido, then.”

“Yeah, that’s as good a way to put it as any. It was filled with spirit ... spirit things. There were apartment doors that didn’t want to let anyone in. There were rat-like things, black wisps, sneaking around buildings. The windows were rainy, even though it wasn’t raining. The lights, not even the moonlight, were ever stable, always flickering. The streetlights were all bent and corkscrewing in the direction of South Side. I even met a crow, a giant crow named City Sky.”

“I ... I am ... mon dieu, I am envious.” She ran her hand down his shoulder and arm, his waist and hip, and down his leg. “I would have enjoyed visiting such an interesting place.”

“Interesting ... terrifying. I can understand why the werewolves don’t want us there. Half to keep us from getting ourselves killed, half to keep us out of the politics.”

“Politics?”

“Yeah, spirits with big names, I guess. Black Blood,” — her right eyebrow raised slightly at the mention — “Red Tide and the Street-Tail King. It’s ... weird, I guess. From what little I could piece together, they have their own factions, same as we do.”

“Oui, of that I am aware. But the details are forever beyond my grasp, little Ventrue. Thank you for sharing this information with me. I would ... hesitate, if I were you, to be upfront with your superiors, about how much information you have given me.” Her questing arm reached across his waist to find the small of his back, and pulled him in a bit closer. Body to body, her breasts pressed straight into his chest, and she set her lips onto his buzzed head. “I am sure they would love to dangle such information in front of me, out of my reach.”

“This is bigger than the Invictus. And the Invictus, they ... well, you know.”

“They care nothing for such mysticism. A sentiment I do not share, but can appreciate.” She pulled him in closer, until his face came to rest against her collar. Melting, a perfect place for melting. He slipped his arm around her, and hugging her back, trying to merge them together. Two bowls of pudding, all mixed up.

But, as much as he would have lit up like a Christmas tree fire in July, if she tempted him, she didn’t. Maybe she was exhausted, too?

“How was your day?” he said.

“Horrendous, though while I had assumed I would be complaining to a listening ear tonight, I had not thought that your night would be worse.”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Please, complain away!” He lowered his head enough he could feel the softness of her breast, near her collar bone. “I’m all ears.”

“Ah, well then, I must take advantage of such an offer.” Sighing, a lovely, deep, long sigh, she started to stroke the back of his head. Fingers, against buzzed hair. Euphoric. “Much of my day is spent managing the Masquerade, as you know. There are squabbles that occur between Kindred, or mistakes made by Kindred, which must be hidden. Today though, a rather ... unusual event occurred, centered around that fellow, Eric.”

“The kine? The dude with Beatrice when they saved me?”

“Indeed. In retrospect, I should have realized something was strange about the man. His inclusion into the affairs of the night was quite random, but no longer. Evidently, he is a werewolf.”

Jack yanked his head up and blinked at her. “Really?”

“Oui. And now the man, once a small thorn, is a potential knife in my side. Julias has supervised cleaning of the man’s awakening — apparently this was his first transformation — to make sure the fool’s destruction is not known by the public.”

“This happened tonight?”

“Mhhmm.”

“Wow. Everything happened tonight.” He smirked, laughing, and settled his head back against Antoinette’s collar. Another werewolf, holy shit.

“Why do you laugh, my love?”

“Just ... just find it ... great, you know? That we’re talking like this, talking about the shit happening in Dolareido. We didn’t do this much before.”

The goddess nodded, leaning forward enough to kiss his head. “I was afraid it would taint our interaction. When we first met, you were a shining beacon of wonder, joy, and honesty. I would have done anything to keep you pure, isolated from the dirty machinations of the city.”

“Aw, come on, it’s not that bad, is it? I mean, yeah, I’m not the same guy I used to be.” And frequently, he was put into situations where he was forced to become like Julias, had to lie, or manipulate, or withhold information. On top of that, he’d discovered a new level of hate and anger inside him, sometimes to the point of paralysis. He’d confided in Tash, now he should confide in Antoinette.

Later, he could confide in her, later. For now, God damn it was nice to relax with her and talk about their day.

Antoinette got up. Jack raised a brow, watching; oh, she wanted to get them under the blankets. He rolled with her movement, making space for her to pull the sheets back, and soon the two of them were beneath the blankets, cuddling. Jack had not really cuddled with anyone, until Antoinette. It must have sucked, horribly, for two kine to cuddle; body heat alone made the idea nauseating. He’d die of heat stroke.

But two vampires? No heat issues to worry about. So, he hugged her tight, as her back fit against him. He got to be the big spoon. Which, of course, didn’t work very well. He chuckled again, as his face pressed against her hair for a moment, before shifting his chin over her shoulder, instead. With the blanket over their shoulders, he couldn’t see her body. But he could feel it, feel the way her large, curvy butt and legs pressed along his body.

Possessed by some evil spirit, or inspired by a sex spirit, his hand drifted over her hip, and up her flat belly, to caress her breast. Maybe one of those sex spirits he dealt with tonight had hitched a ride in his body? It wouldn’t have surprised him, as the touch of Antoinette’s skin against his body set him on fire, despite his exhaustion.

The best part was, she didn’t stop him, say a word, or do anything to discourage him. All she did, was chuckle, as his hand slipped between her breasts, and began to cup and massage where the weight one pressed down on its sister, squashing it to the bed. The softness of it, combined with the weight of it, was the most pleasant feeling in existence, and he sighed joy as he softly squeezed her bosom.

“We have fifteen minutes before sunrise, little Ventrue.”

“Yeah, don’t mind me.” No sex needed, but even without sex, there was no denying how great a breast felt in his palm. “If I had my own, I’d be cupping and massaging them all day.”

“Yes, I do believe you have said that before.” Chuckling, she brushed her hair with her fingers, finding a better angle for it against the pillows. “What will you do about Eric?”

“I ... I don’t know. That’s really Julias’s decision.”

“Anticipate your superior’s actions, my love. An important skill, to insure your future actions can be made swiftly, and in the correct context.”

“Good point. I suppose Julias will want him to see Avery at some point, turn him into a known factor. I might be asked to be involved.” His hand drifted down a bit, so he could hug her proper, arm cutting across the upper half of her stomach. “I ... don’t think we’ll kick him out of the luxury suite. Jessy put him there, since he helped us out, helped me out. She trusts him, a bit, and since he works at Bloodlust, the arrangement made sense.” Comfy and cozy, she sank into him as he pulled her close. Her arm found his, rested upon it, her fingers settling on his wrist.

“I will have to speak with him, again. The poor man was quite nervous, when we met.” The tall woman chuckled, turned her head a touch, and waited. Message received; he leaned in, kissing her neck and cheek. “Fledgling Kindred have their sire to rely on, while this man does not. Whatever advice Avery gives him, I must give him context that it is my city, not hers, and that his decisions must be made with that in mind.”

“I don’t think Avery will use Eric to rock the boat, or do anything like that.” Avery does seem to have the city’s best interest in mind, even if that means wanting to do things her own way.

“Perhaps not on purpose, no. But I am sure she will attempt to convert him to her cause, and indirectly, that will create a barrier for me. Truthfully, I would be more content if he continued in his current capacity, as a bouncer for Bloodlust, and in his new living location. There, it is easy for us to keep an eye on him.”

“A werewolf bouncer ... watching vampires come and go, Kissing kine every night. That is an interesting idea.” It was a good one too. “But, Uratha aren’t like us, they don’t create their own reasons for existing. They have a powerful reason built into them, hunting spirits and keeping the ‘balance’.” He struggled to raise his hands, to make air quotes. Not easy to do, lying on his side, but it was warranted.

“Long ago, there was an Uratha who hid within my city for a short while. She did not serve any of the tribes. I asked her what she called herself, if not a member of a tribe, and she answered: ‘a ghost’.” Shrugging, Antoinette brought his hand to her lips, kissing it. “Perhaps Eric will pursue the same fate.”

“A ghost ... a ghost werewolf?” What a strange way to refer to oneself. He nodded, and hid his face in the back of her neck. “Maybe. It’d be nice if he could create a little stability out of this. Can’t go five minutes without something turning upside down.”

“Indeed.”

Exhaustion returning, he sighed, as the rising sun called for slumber. It didn’t matter he was deep underground where its rays didn’t reach him, Kindred knew when the sun rose or fell. When it started to rise, a Kindred’s body and mind grew heavy, eyelids too, until there was no choice but to give in, close their eyes, and turn into a corpse, until the sun fell, again.

“Love you,” he said into Antoinette’s ear, as he drifted under. If she said it back, he didn’t hear it, but she said it all the time anyway. He should say it more.

~~Beatrice~~

The next night. She awoke, stretching her arms out and yawning, exposing her crocodile teeth. Back in the lair with her fellow members of the Circle, back in her small hole in the wall, with all the blankets. All of them. She smirked at the pile, sure some real fur was mixed in there; not a fan of killing animals for a fur blanket, but damn it felt snuggly. Maybe she could convince Julias to spend some time here with her. Fucking with the curtain pulled aside so everyone else could watch.

Her long tongue licked her huge teeth at the thought. Yummy.

She got dressed: combat boots, gray jeans, and a black tank top. Kindred were creatures of habit, after all. But, mostly, she just liked to show off her ass and abs. They pulled people’s eyes down, away from her mouth; a habit she doubted would ever die. Jacob wore a bandage over his empty eye sockets though, so, she could justify drawing people’s gazes to her better features. Not that Julias minded her teeth, but still.

She slid out of her cave, and hopped up into Jen’s, expecting to find four extra legs in the girl’s room. But, no, just Jennifer, alone. She was wearing a ... Snuggie, one of those blankets with sleeves, designed for comfort above all else. A book was in her hand, and not an eBook reader, but an actual book.