~~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.
