My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 11

She crept along after the terrifying, horrible, nasty man, and chewed on her bottom lip as she kept him at the edge of her sight, where the tunnels turned. Face against the concrete brick, she inched forward, each step soft and perfect. Not a sound, not a breath, not anything, just pure silence as she followed after him for another ten minutes. Ten minutes of walking, ten minutes of her draining her vitae until she was starting to feel the hunger of it absence, ten minutes of quiet stalking in darkness.

At least it wasn't like the last time she was stalking in the tunnels, when it turned pitch black and she'd run into all those spider webs. Ugh. She shivered with the memory, and dusted her shoulders free. No webs, but it still felt like they were on her. Spiders were nasty, and gross, and she didn't care if that sounded horribly juvenile and girly, because it was completely true.

She rounded the next bend of the tunnel, and petrified. Gone. Jacob was gone.

She put one hand on her sword, and stared. Where was he? He couldn't have just vanished. Did he use his cloak of night to hide? She could—

Tightness grabbed her neck, and lifted her into the air. She tried to scream, but the grip on her throat was too tight to let air through. She tried to kick, to punch, but her assault bounced off the bastard's body as he held her at arm's length. She reached for her sword, but his other hand found her wrist, squeezed it hard enough it forced her grip to deadlock too loose on the sword grip. Helpless, in a split second.

"You're probably wondering how I noticed you. Mmm?" He pulled her in closer, and grinned a psycho's grin as he eyed her with his weird one eye. "Mmm?"

"G... g..." Couldn't talk, couldn't say anything, couldn't even argue that he shouldn't be doing this. She kicked at him again, and again, and again, but her shoes bounced off his legs and stomach. She considered kicking him in the balls for a second, but even if that did manage to loosen his grip, it would surely spell her death.

The psycho witch chuckled, and began walking down the tunnel again, away from Azamel. Still holding her by her throat, and her wrist, and grinning his crazy grin between insidious chuckles. Please please please don't kill me.

"Too bad for you, I won't tell you. Hmmm, hear anything interesting while you were spying?"

"G... g..."

"No? Well I thought perhaps my mention of where I got this eye, the talk of spirits, or perhaps this Jeremiah fellow, that all of it would be interesting to a little sneak like you."

"G..." She couldn't talk! He refused to let her breathe, to use the air to speak. If anything, his grip was only getting tighter, and she stared wide-eyed as his grip started to do more than just block her windpipe. It started to hurt, a lot, muscle and cartilage crushing under his fingers until she felt things bend that shouldn't bend. Pain came a moment later, and she squeezed the wrist of the offending hand with both of hers, desperate to get him to let her go.

"Yes, I knew you were following me from the onset, little Vola. I have more tricks up my sleeve than a young creature like even knows exist. Don't try and spy on me, or I will rip your arm off." His other hand let go of hers, took her arm near the shoulder, and began to squeeze. Nosferatu were strong, like Daeva, capable of punching through rock, concrete, even steel if they had enough age and power to back it up. Jacob had it in spades, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the man started to crush her shoulder all the harder.

"P... P..."

"And unlike your two boyfriends, I don't think you're cute. I think you're weak. Typical Mekhet, sneaky little fuck, with prying eyes and a fast step, useless without a sword and more useless when someone shines a light on you." He brought her in closer, closer, until his face was only an inch from hers. "Think you'll survive when a true veteran like this Jeremiah fuck starts hunting us, starts burning us out of our little hidey-holes, starts finding our hideouts in the day while we're asleep, starts laying traps with fire and shotguns, and silver for your fuck buddies?"

At last he let her neck go. Or not really, but he did relax his grip enough she could use her lungs again.

"I... I was j-j-j-j-just... I um... w-w-was..." Ok, she could talk now but didn't know what to say. Uh oh.

"You might survive, now that I think about it. Sneaky types do have a habit of doing that, surviving, where others perish. So, Natasha Vola of the Ordo Dracul, you and Annie stumble onto anything interesting lately? Perhaps some spirits of note or renown have visited your tower?"

This bastard knew everything. How did he always know everything?

"M... m-maybe?"

"Well aren't you a cheeky little shit." Jacob brought her so close their noses were touching. Gross gross gross, staring into his eye and his empty eye socket. No eyelids on the empty one, just destroyed flesh.

"You... you shouldn't d-do this."

"Do what? Haven't hurt you yet."

"B-But you're going to."

"Am I? Not exactly sure what I'm going to do with you yet. I don't like being spied on."

"You... must have known I w-w-was spying on you... b-before you started talking to Azamel though."

He nodded, smiling and nodding as he held her out at full arm's length, and started walking. "Smart little fucker."

"Th... thank you."

"You're welcome." A chuckle or two later, he did a few hops, some of them landing on train tracks, some on the ground, each random and way too much like a young ballerina being silly. "We don't talk much, you and I," he said, her still dangling from his hand.

"... yeah." Elders generally only talked to elders, or their subordinates. She was neither.

"Your dainty, weak shtick grinds my gears. Really makes me want to slap some sense into you. Fucking half a century of being a vampire, and you still can't take anyone in a straight fight. And probably never try."

Ow.

"I... it d-d-doesn't... there's usually a w-way to—"

"Oh good god, get a spine, you worthless little mouse. You can't always solve everything by being smart, or quick, or sneaky. When push comes to shove, it's often the strongest who comes out on top, and you? You can't even form a sentence. You're so weak you—"

She shot him.

Somewhere along the line, her hand had snapped to her pistol instead of holding his wrist. Being insulted like that burned, and after a few of them, she didn't want anymore. Art and Matt told her to be more aggressive, or people were forever going to tread on her, to steal away opportunities from her, or maybe even get her into danger. It'd do her some good, they told her, to run on instinct for a second here or there and see where it took her.

Probably a bad time to do that.

She landed on her feet once Jacob dropped her, and took out her sword with her other hand. Definitely a bad time to do that, as Jacob snarled in pain and stepped back several times. One of his hands came up to his face, to his neck where she'd put the hole, and covered the wound for a moment, only to pull his hand away and look at the Kindred blood that coated his palm.

"You shot me."

"D-D-Don't... think just cause I hold my t-tongue, or use my... b-brain, that... that I'm weak, Jacob." There was flirting with death, and then there was pissing on its face and seeing if it decided to retaliate.

"Well, color me surprised. Those wolves rubbing off on you? Well, rubbing and getting off, for sure." The psycho licked his lips, and leaned his head to the side. In mere seconds, his neck healed, a wound that would take her a day to restore.

"And st-stop making fun of my relationship with them! It... it's private, and... and least I have one!"

Jacob's lips settled on a snarl, and he started to walk toward her. She really should have been running, or maybe shooting him a whole bunch and running at the same time. Yeah, running was actually a pretty good idea, she should be able to outrun him.

"You got bite, Vola. I like it!" He stopped walking toward her, shrugged, and licked one of his fangs in obvious, dramatic fashion. "Been a while since a Mekhet has surprised me. Damien did, at least for a little while, before he replaced you as that bitch's slave." Wiping his thumb on his lips, he motioned for Tasha to stand beside him.

She gulped, and with trembling hands, put away her sword and pistol. If he wanted her dead, she'd be dead, sooner or later. Even if she hid in the Prince's tower, she couldn't hide in there for forever, and eventually the man would find a way to kill her. But if aggression was how to appeal to Jacob, maybe she could work with that.

"I'm... I-I'm looking for Jack," she said as she stood beside him. Kept him in the corner of her eye, ready to bolt, but he did start walking again just like before, along the tunnel toward wherever he was planning to go. Maybe he was genuine. So damn hard to read him, this Malachi.

"You and everyone else. Triss has gone to lala nightmare land with that bitch Athalia, in hopes she may find some clue as to his disappearance. Want me to ask Azamel if you can go in with her?"

"Um... n-no, I think uh... think I'll d-d-do better out here, with my feet firmly on the ground."

He chuckled, and faced her as he raised a hand to the cheek of his new eye. Pulling down on his cheek, his smile grew, and he stared at her with the strange, normal looking, but very weird eye.

"You work for Annie now, so get used to seeing some strange shit."

"I... there has been... strange things, y-yeah."

Another laugh. Man just loved to laugh, and each time he did, he put a different angle on it, a twist, each with its own personality. This one sounded intrigued almost, like she imagined Hannibal the Cannibal would sound when having a delightful conversation at tea time.

"How goes your search for Jack?"

"I c-can't find him. He's gone, and the P-Prince is furious, and I thought maybe Azamel would know something... b-b-but then I saw you and Beatrice, and..." And she decided to sneak sneak, because like Jacob said, she was a sneaky person. Apparently, a ballsy sneaky person.

When did that happen? Used to be a time she would timidly obey Maria's orders, and nothing more. She became a right hand to the Invictus because she was smart, and fast, good at sneaking, and had a talent for auspex most Mekhet did not. Maria gave her an order, and Natasha could get it done, quietly, with no traces and no suspicions.

Then, she'd asked Julias to kill Viktor. A scary request to say the least, and from then on, each month had been pushing her just a little further into making rash, dangerous moves that were liable to get her killed. Shooting Jacob in the neck was the culmination of a lot of changes, and it could have easily ended her second life. Except, it seemed to be exactly what the man wanted, for someone to show some spine and have the guts to challenge him on things. Dangerous, so very dangerous.

"It'd be a shame if the kid's dead," Jacob said. "Hopefully Triss and that cunt learn something."

"... do... d-do you think this Jeremiah person has Jack?"

"Probably. Or he's killed him already."

She shivered, rubbed her arms, and looked up at the elder. "Sorry... for shooting you."

"No you're not. Don't be a bitch now and ruin what goodwill you just earned."

"S—" No, wait, not sorry. "... you deserved it."

"Heh, damn right."

Oh god trying to get along with this man was like trying to get along with a volatile explosive. Perfectly content to sit there, quiet, not exploding, as long as she treated it just right, and how it liked to be treated was a gamble to figure out.

"And J-Jeremiah is hunting Azamel?"

"Yeah. Probably a Moby Dick situation if I'm guessing right."

"... so Jeremiah is Ahab? And Azamel is the w-whale?"

"Correct. It's just a hunch, but a good one, if this human has been hunting Azamel all this time."

Not good. Ahab got his crew slaughtered on a futile quest to kill something that had hurt him. An insane man willing to get other people killed in order to reach his goals. And he was a captain at that. If Jeremiah was of that disposition, then Natasha could understand Azamel's retreat to Dolareido. Putting a bunch of vampires between her and Jeremiah was a smart plan.

For someone like Azamel to fear a human had Natasha shivering again, and she rubbed her arms a few times more as she and the scariest vampire in Dolareido walked the abandoned tunnels. She could run from a vampire, could sense him, spot him, or at least rely on the political situation of the covenants to hopefully not get killed by them. With Jeremiah or his hunters, she wouldn't be able to do any of that.

A few seconds of silence went by. She was waiting for Jacob to talk, to offer information; but, that was dumb. He liked aggression, so be aggressive. Ask questions.

"You have an eye n-now."

"Yeap."

"H-How?"

"Blood magic."

Oh god.

"W-Why di—"

"Begotten are nasty fucks, and they hide all sorts of surprises. Eye let me get a better look at them, at what they are; for the night at least." He laughed, leaned in toward her, and pulled down on the cheek with the eye to expose the white of its sphere. "Sexy?"

"Um... it-t might have been... if you had two."

"True. Triss took the other one."

Oh god oh god. Ok yeah, no more asking about the blood magic. If Triss had a new eye, that meant she had to get rid of the old eye somehow. She winced just thinking about it.

"... w-want to tell me anything about them, the Begotten?"

"Ha! Want to know how to knock them down a notch, don't you? I'll give you one hint, Mekhet, just because you've impressed me." Jacob hopped up onto an abandoned subway platform, and walked over to the ladder, used by repairmen back when the tunnel was used. "Begotten are like vampires, in a way. We're killed by fire, and sunlight. Werewolves, silver rips them a new one. What are Begotten weak to?"

"I... d-don't know."

"The problem isn't so much that we don't know, but rather, Begotten are each unique in a way. That Mark fellow is some sort of corpse, a skeleton, and he's also the insects inside it. His weakness will have something to do with that, I'm sure. "

"Unique..." Oh. Well, damn. Finding out the weakness of the whole race wouldn't be possible then, but rather, she'd have to learn about each individual Begotten and figure out their weakness that way.

"Fiona's your friend, ask her if she knows much about Azamel or Athalia. Don't let her know why you're asking of course, but keep an ear open. Azamel herself is a very old monster, and I'm sure her weakness is rooted in the nightmare that she is."

"... w-w-what nightmare is that?" she said. Didn't bother to ask why he was being so helpful, gift horse and all that.

"Oh, a very old nightmare, a twisted thing from a twisted mind, surely. People, many of them, somewhere, hundreds and hundreds of years ago must have dreamed up that monstrosity. What horrible history could have led to such a horrible thing, I don't know. A butcher maybe, a king or queen, who abused a godly image? Who knows. Certainly wouldn't be the first time someone's used the image of a god to fuel their own, blood-soaked agenda." The elder tapped his nose twice, and winked. "Some poor soul dreamed a nightmare, and now this woman looks like a giant with an elephant head and four arms, some sort of twisted, horrible abomination of the original."

"Ganesha? Hinduism?"

Jacob shrugged, and began his climb up the ladder. "Ganesha, before an ancient, Eastern temple, surrounded by tortured kine. Granny has quite the eye for decor." Laughing all the way up, Jacob gave her a tiny, finger-wagging wave, and disappeared. No goodbye or stereotypical parting words elders often had.

That description didn't sound like what Natasha knew of Ganesha, not at all. But, it was a lot more than she knew about Azamel five minutes ago.

Triss was in a nightmare world now, apparently. Natasha wasn't able to watch Triss's departure from her hiding spot, but Triss was indeed gone, and she too was looking for Jack. So, Natasha pulled out her phone, and—shit, no reception in the tunnel. She almost followed Jacob out, then, decided against it. Better to find her own exit.

Back on the surface, she again tried to call Triss. No answer. Either she was still deep in the tunnels, or she was in, as Jacob put it, nightmare lala land.

Ugh, she was never going to find Jack at this rate.

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~~Jack~~

The prisoner main lobby. Two floors, with some stairways rising from the tile floor to balconies, where more gates were half opened into more hallways. The lobby was also blocked off by a gate, that lead to a proper lobby where civilians could come and go. An old fashioned building to say the least, old, run down, with decades of use under its belt.

The room had a large counter in the middle, circular, with several shitty old chairs in its center. In a newer prison, computer terminals would have been set up there to control all the gates electronically. But in this prison, everything was old, and the keys were nowhere to be found; which meant the gate to the civilian lobby was unlocked. Good thing, cause Jack wasn't strong enough to break open gates made of metal bars and locked in with steel.

Did the hunters have more chains and locks? It'd have been smart to lock the place down somehow at least, but after looking around, he found no chains on the gates. Or, maybe one of the five hunters now dead or brainwashed had been responsible for managing padlocks and chains. In either circumstance, it was obvious his escape was unexpected, something they hadn't planned for because the idea of young, little him escaping seemed absurd to them. He had an advantage, and he was going to take it.

He stood at the gate before the prison lobby, and looked around. His two guards stood in front of him, each with shotguns raised and checking out the million places the enemy could shoot at him from. The circular counter in the center was obvious, and Jack couldn't see into it to be sure it was empty. It looked like the balcony around and above him was empty too, though the gates they held were all unlocked, and more hunters could have been waiting for him in there.

He looked down at his army. "You, check the counter. You, check the hallways down here. And you, check the hallways below. Report back if you see any humans."

A host of the tiny bundles of fur nodded, and ran out onto the dingy tile of the prison floor. Twenty for each command, more than enough to survive any potential gunfire. And Jack braced for it, for the explosive sound of guns unloading bullets upon his army as they scouted the area. But none came.

No way the hunters just left him to his devices. No way they'd just let him escape. But the rats eventually returned, and each of them reported no one.

But, they could smell something. Hell, he could smell something. A chemical?

He raised the corner of his mouth in a snarl, and motioned for his two guards to go forward. "Stay near me, ahead of me, and protect me with your lives."

The two tools nodded, and stayed at his side as he walked out into the exposed position of the prisoner lobby. No one behind the counter. No one above him, at the dozen perfect positions for someone to shoot at him. The lights were on, but no one was home.

No way it was this easy.

"Jack."

He spun around. In the distance, past the lobby, past the gate, past the civilian lobby, and at the open front door of the prison, stood Angela. Five hunters stood with her, weapons at the ready.

"Angela." He stared at her in the distance, and his two guards sprinted forward. "No, wait. I want to hear this." Without skipping a beat, the two tools came back to his side, and waited.