My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 14

~~Natasha~~

The Grand Cathedral of Dolareido was a terrifying place, she found, especially from the outside. The statues on the railings of the stairway, on the archways, and on the outcroppings of carved stone along the cathedral's high walls, were nightmare fuel. Six-winged angels destroying demons beneath their feet, and gargoyles with mouths agape and fangs exposed within them. The archway over the main door had a crucifix, with doves perched upon it, as if the only way to find the peace those doves had, to escape the horrors displayed on the outside of the cathedral, was to pass through the gates beneath the cross.

She eased open the giant door of the cathedral, and slipped in.

She'd never understand why a vampire would agree to the philosophies of the Lancea et Sanctum. She wanted her feet firmly on the ground, rooted in evidence, not beliefs that were created to fill the hole evidence hadn't filled yet. So what if vampires didn't know where they came from? That was no reason to suddenly go believing in a higher power, believing that vampires were damned and doomed to suffer lest they fulfill God's plan for them, to be monsters that scare the sheep into the protective arms of the shepherd.

But then, in absence of evidence, what do you do? For her, it meant a lifetime of digging through books and research articles, and now, relics and tomes, searching for truth. Damien was different than her. He had faith. A powerful weapon, and a massive weakness, depending on circumstance. She wanted to know if that circumstance was now, and if Damien had anything to do with what happened.

Maria wasn't here, she knew that; it's why she came now and not later. Still avoiding that conversation, still tiptoeing around that bitch of an elder, still being passive and refusing to be aggressive. She got aggressive with Jacob, maybe she could get aggressive with Maria? No, that wasn't the same circumstance, not at all.

Natasha walked forward, slowly, and took a moment to straighten her business pantsuit. A pistol and two small swords, one of silver and one of carbon steel, were not easy to fit into a pantsuit jacket, but she made do. It would have been easier to leave the silver sword behind, and avoid potential questions from her boyfriends. They'd yet to ask about the extra sword; maybe they couldn't tell it was silver? She did keep it in its sheath. Either way, she had to keep it on her at all times, but it wasn't a strong enough material for proper sword work, hence the need for the other.

She made sure they were all there as she walked through the cathedral toward the dais, and the apse behind that that held the enormous pipe organ. Someone was playing them.

"D-Damien?" she said.

"... Natasha. I wasn't expecting you."

She came closer, and watched the man as his fingers moved across the keys. A pale comparison to Maria's expert fingers, Damien's playing was slow, imprecise, and lacked any texture. His timing was off too. But, he was playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, the famous first movement, and that wasn't exactly Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

"Is Madam Turio... Maria t-teaching you how to play?"

"Yes. I expressed interest, and she was more than willing."

"She d-does love old, classical music a lot."

"Indeed. And for good reason. It deserves to be loved. Modern music is... well, that's a rant I'm sure someone else could deliver better than I." The man started playing again, and Natasha watched, a small smile on her lips. Something sexy about a man playing an instrument; a stereotype, but true.

"I'm not hearing the f-f-full p-pipes?" The sound was quiet, subdued, and didn't have any of the power she assumed a pipe organ would have.

"No. This organ has a digital structure built in. I need to flip a switch to actually use the pipes. But, I foresee months, years of practice, before I'd be willing to try them."

She nodded. Practical, sound, logical. You build up to something as grandiose as using the pipes in an actual full sized pipe organ.

"Is... is it harder? Playing an organ, instead of a piano?"

"I wouldn't know, haven't played the piano. Madam Turio... Maria, she says that, when all its elements are engaged, it is the most difficult instrument to play. It is a wind instrument at its core, and... and I suspect you did not come to talk to me of music, Madam Vola." The man didn't know when to use titles, or he didn't feel comfortable addressing her as Natasha. Maybe some time together could fix that?

"N-No, I... wanted to talk to you about Jack. And, and you know... t-t-to call me Natasha. You're not Invictus, n-no need for the titles."

"Very well, Natasha. Yes, I assumed the only reason you might visit now would be to talk about Jack. I may not be Invictus, but Maria keeps me in the loop. This whole right hand but not Invictus position she has given me is... weird."

"You thought I'd want to talk to you about Jack?"

"You suspect me, don't you?"

"I... I mean... a little?" She squirmed, and leaned against a nearby railing that separated the organ from the rest of the stage. "You c-can... imagine why."

"... then let's go talk to him."

"What?"

Damien stood up, adjusted his tie, and turned to look at her. The half-shaved head, hair falling down his temple on one side of his head, was oddly fitting his dark suit, something Maria no doubt had him wearing. Sexy.

"Let's go talk to him."

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Julias wasn't home, but that's why Natasha called him ahead of time. She couldn't lie to him though, and spilled the truth that Damien was joining her. The man was hesitant, but he agreed to let them into the mansion and its underground bunker. It wasn't like Damien would be able to kill Jack and make it seem like Natasha did it or something, and the man had had ample opportunity to kill Jack if he was willing to do it overtly.

So, Natasha knocked on the front door, and waited. Huge place. So huge. To own a mansion in a dense city, in an area where the real estate was kept free of any extra homes or anything that could possibly lower its value, was expensive. Of course the Invictus not only had money, they could bypass the money issues altogether, and turn such fantasies into reality. Only elders got to do something as extravagant as a mansion though.

"Madam Vola, and... Mister Burksen, I believe?" A kind looking woman in a modern, but not too modern maid outfit answered the door. "I am sorry to answer myself, but Nathan has just let Master Terry feed, so he is sleeping."

"Y-Yes, um, d-d-did Mister Mire call and—"

"Yes yes, come in, please. Master Terry is awake and expecting you."

"Oh." Natasha smiled, and followed after the thrall with Damien behind her. As they walked, several of the thralls stuck their heads out or up from their activities in cleaning the enormous house, and they watched Damien with squinted eyes. Well, they certainly didn't like him, which was probably because of Julias. In fact, she imagined they were on standby to lock Damien into the bunker room, if something happened to Jack.

Well, she trusted him. Maybe she didn't trust Maria, but she trusted him. A little.

The servant took them down a stairway, a long and deep stairway, before she gestured with open palm into the hallway ahead. Natasha had seen this bunker before, but Damien hadn't, and the man stopped to take careful note of each barrier they crossed in the underground.

"... I would say these precautions are overkill, but I guess recent developments would prove me a fool." He reached out, and ran his hands down one of the spiked gates that lined the path. Natasha pat his hand away from the metal. The gates were pulled aside, out of the way, but Natasha got the impression they'd come out with a hard snap and skewer trespassers if fiddled with.

It was a long tunnel, hardened with concrete. Viktor always thought for the future, and built things to last; understandable elder paranoia about preserving their long lives. In this circumstance, it was protecting Jack, and letting the boy sleep his injuries away. Triss had described the injuries to Natasha, and Natasha had winced with every mention of bone, flesh, sinew, and organs. Her first encounter with the werewolves had been a visceral amount of pain and injury, but she doubted she could compare it to what Jack had gone through with these hunters.

"Hey Natasha," Jack said. The boy was sitting on the bed, dressed in suit pants and a white shirt, no jacket. He looked gaunt, despite the fresh meal Natasha knew the man had had. Recovering from such life-threatening wounds took time, especially for one as young as Jack.

But he was healing faster than a one-year-old neonate should, from those sorts of injuries at least. Impressive. Julias's childe, he was.

"Hey Jack," she said. How nice, to not have to call him Master Terry, or for him to call her Madam Vola. "The P-Prince has been anxious to see you."

"Yeah, and I'm anxious as hell to see her. Moment I can actually walk around, I'm there."

"You... d-don't want her to visit you here?"

"She could, but she thought it best to let me rest. We've sent each other a few messages."

"Oh, sorry then, f-for... int-t-terrupting your rest."

"It's ok. I should be good to go after one more night's sleep."

Natasha smiled, sat down on the edge of the bed near the boy, and reached out to touch his shoulder. Even little Jack was much bigger than her, but she still felt the bigger Kindred. She was half a century older than him, in Kindred years; and yet, it didn't feel like that anymore. The beasts in their guts, hidden, forever tugging at their impulses and instincts, could sense each other, and hers found the boy to not be the little Ventrue he once was. Where before, she knew she could easily best the boy, now, she wasn't sure it'd be so easy.

A powerful ally for the Invictus, indeed.

"Jack," Damien said. "Glad to see you're well."

"Thanks. Kind of surprised you came though."

"People suspect I had something to do with your kidnapping."

"Ha, yeah I figured they might." Jack shrugged, and turned a little on the bed, earning a pained wince. "They didn't see how much you pulled through in the tunnels, against that giant spider monster." The three of them shivered with the memory.

"That is true," Natasha said. "B-But... if Maria finds out—"

"I have told Maria nothing." Damien offered a tiny frown, and slowly paced about the room, eyes wandering its extravagant decor. "Julias, Beatrice, the Prince, the sheriff, Natasha, Jack, and myself all know about what really happened to Lucas. That's a lot of voices that could accidentally let slip an innocent detail that allows the elder to piece together what happened. But, I'm sure we all monitor our words carefully. We're all glad Lucas is gone, and that includes me... and Maria, to some extent."

Natasha raised a brow as she watched Damien. It was rare to hear him speak so deliberately. The man who showed up at her door once, stabbed her in the heart, kidnapped her, his voice and his eyes had been wavering and weak. The man who spoke to his congregation, on the other hand, spoke with a solid voice and with solid eyes. That was this Damien. It was a pleasant sight, but also a frightening one; the man was scary when he was an enemy.

"I'd prefer to not let Maria find out, in either case." Jack fell back against the sheets of his bed, head to the pillow, and looked up at the ceiling. "That Angela woman was a fucking psycho."

Natasha raised a brow. "The hunter?" Antoinette had briefed her on the Invictus reports, Jack's reports.

"Yeah. Damien was right that they'd target me, cause I'd be an easy target. But they didn't come here for us vamps, they came for the monsters."

She could tell them, about her conversation with Jacob and her eavesdropping of his conversation with Azamel. Always a tough game, figuring out what things were ok to tell your friends, and what you shouldn't, to keep an advantage in the Danse Macabre. She told the Prince everything of course, but telling the other covenants every little detail was probably a bad idea. Exercise discretion, as Maria would say. Exercise wisdom, as Antoinette would say.

"So n-now, we have a bunch of hunters in the city, and they want Azamel." Natasha pulled a knee up to her chest, and held it with wrapping arms as she teetered on Jack's bed a little. "Poor Fiona. When she f-finds out, she'll... she'll feel guilty."

"They didn't know about Avery," Jack said. "They know about the Kindred here, know a lot, but they didn't know about the Uratha. So, if I can convince Avery to help us out, we might just be able to turn this around."

Damien came to stand beside Natasha, and he looked down at the two of them with a raised brow. "Easier said than done. Avery hates Maria and Michael, and all Invictus. Only reason she's dealing with Jack is... well, he's Jack, I presume."

Natasha smirked. Jack was Jack.

Jack raised a hand. "I'm Jack?"

"Y-You know, you're Jack. You um... you... um..." How best to describe the Jack effect? "You t-talk where m-m-most wouldn't."

"... so I don't know how to shut up."

"Exactly." Damien nodded, like it was very matter-of-fact information that everyone knew. "The Uratha couldn't understand discretion to save their lives, so they appreciate your forwardness. Perhaps you can get them to help deal with this Jeremiah and Angela, and their hunters, but I think you'll be hard pressed to convince them."

The boy sighed, nodded, and raised a hand to scratched his buzzed head. "Avery likes Garry, or at least, they know each other, and don't seem to hate each other. I might be able to use that angle."

"H-How?" she said.

"Gotta become friends with Garry."

Damien frowned, but shrugged as he took a seat by the desk. Natasha didn't like the sounds of it either. Garry was volatile, like any freedom fighter was, especially when they already had freedom, were convinced that they didn't, and continued to look for things to fight over. Rebels without a cause, damn Carthians. It would be one thing she'd carry with her from the Invictus, a dislike for the Carthian ideology.

"I'm glad you guys decided to visit," Jack said. "Been a bit lonely. I've been... wanting to break, ask the Prince to visit, but it really is best to wait until I don't feel like my spleen is going to fall out."

Damien shrugged. "You don't need it." Natasha and Jack both raised a brow, and stared at the man, until again he shrugged. "What, I can't make a joke?"

"You c-could say, we might b-b-be a bit surprised."

Jack nodded, and laughed, and almost screamed as he fell back onto the bed again, holding his side. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck... yeah, that's why I can't see Antoinette."

"Sorry!" Natasha said. "Sorry, s-sorry. Um, yeah, you rest."

"So, I'll make friends with Garry. And Azamel. Already got Antoinette and Julias and... Jacob, surprisingly. I'll make friends with Avery and Michael, and hell, Maria too." While still lying down, staring at the ceiling, he pointed his hands up at them like the ceiling was going to fall on him. "Cause these hunters are going to kill us all if they get the chance."

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~~Julias~~

He squeezed his arms around Beatrice, tight, close, as close as reality allowed, and groaned softly into her ear.

"Feeling awfully clingy, aren't you?" she said.

"Very."

"Needy guys are such a turn off."

He chuckled into her. Juices, warm, heavenly, were dripping off of his testicles, despite her words.

The two of them were in Bloodlust, second floor as usual, and she was sitting on his lap, leaning back against him. She'd worn a short leather skirt to go with an almost fashionable black tank top, but had also worn a thong that went high enough on the hip that he couldn't stop staring at it. Which led to present circumstances, her, sitting in his lap, facing away from him, her legs spread around his, and her slit spread open on his shaft.

She leaned forward, set her elbows on the table, and grinned back at him over her shoulder as she ground her ass down toward him.

"I needed this," she said. "Just some nice, gentle fucking. Fucking hell, I'm still sore."

"Getting filled with lead will do that." He reached out with one hand and set it on her hip, while the other slipped underneath the bottom of her tank top to find her naked spine. Dancing fingers sneaked their way up her back, and caressed the grooves of her spin, and along various tattoos that played with her vertebrae, making beautiful, dark artwork of her lean body.

She moaned, and pushed herself back into him using her hands on the table. "See the Eric dude downstairs?"

"I did."

"Heh, yeah, I winked at him as we came up here. Fucker knows what we're up to."

"Were you hoping he'd come up and watch?"

"... maybe. No secret now, I got a huge love for it. Call me an exhibitionist, but, god damn, something about people seeing me while you and I fuck, really turns me on." And to prove her point, she raised her hands up from the table, slipped her claws under her tight tank top, and pulled it up enough to hook it over her breasts. There were people in nearby booths, watching, but with how dark it was and Triss's hair over her cheeks, they wouldn't be able to see her teeth. And Julias would wipe the mind of any kine who noticed anyway. A bit risky, fucking like this, but she initiated, and Julias could hardly say no.

He looked over at the woman beside them in the booth. A kine, a younger woman, maybe twenty years old. A short human, lacking in curves, but very, very cute. Drained, exhausted, and passed out, her shirt open, and her skirt zipper as well. Comatose, and thoroughly spent, as both Triss and Julias had fingered, licked, suckled, massaged, caressed, and forced the girl to cum her brains out several times as they drank her. And a full belly of blood was more than enough to have the two Kindred on each other immediately thereafter, high-riding thong or no.

Triss was trying to make him not think about Jack, not think about Dolareido, and worry about the hunters. She was trying to make him focus on something more positive, he could tell. And he loved her for that. Antoinette would probably do the same for Jack. Shit, he was already thinking about shit he wasn't supposed to be thinking about. Focus on the beautiful woman in front of you, and how amazing her tight, wet, hot insides felt squeezing your cock.

"So I should have some people over more often?" he said. "Maybe some of my thralls, with a camera?"

"I... wouldn't mind a camera, actually. Could put it up on screen to watch while we fuck later." She started to bounce faster, more of her juices trickling down his testicles as she got closer to orgasm. He'd had sex with women who squirted during orgasm before, but with Triss, it was a bit different. The more comfortable she grew with him, and herself, the more she let loose. He loved it. Though, if not for how their fluids would fade away in a short time, he'd be worried about the mess she'd leave on his clothes and the booth.

"I remember a time when you would have stabbed me for the suggestion."

"Apparently, I've changed. You have too, right? Used to be all happy on the outside, sad on the inside. Seeing a bit of the reverse these days," she said.

"... do I seem sad on the outside?"

"Like you got the weight of being a member of an Invictus high council on your shoulders."

"Sounds suspiciously like reality."

"But I know you're a happier man than you used to be; mostly because I'm in your life, and I'm awesome." Proving her point, she leaned forward more, weight on her elbows, and started to dance on his cock, literally. She dipped her hips left and right to the beat of the music, each dip causing her insides to clench, and for her small clit-hood chain to dangle and rub against his testicles. She didn't always wear it, but when she did, he could tell every motion she made was sending pleasure sparks through it and into her, along with everything else.