My Little Ventrue Pt 06 Ch 02

~~Damien~~

Beatrice's visit had been strange. Random. And late. It'd been months since that incident, and now she came, alone, to apologize for affecting him so? Peculiar. Perhaps she was feeling more bold, becoming an integral witch in the Circle of the Crone. Damien couldn't begin to understand what that sort of world was like, but it seemed to agree with the Nosferatu quite a bit. She'd smiled for most of her visit to the Cathedral.

Sighing, Damien leaned back, and looked up. The dark alley between some of the more unkempt bars was a disgusting sight. Sinners on every corner, and not the sinners he would have scared or harassed in the past. These were sinners he would have killed in the past, people not only throwing their lives away to whatever vice they chose, but also dragging other people into their inescapable pits of doom. Thieves. Rapists. Murderers.

This was a weird date.

"That one," Fiona said, pointing at the woman sitting on a food crate, across the street, and in her own alley. She was average height, Asian, tattoos and piercings, a half buzzed head not dissimilar to Damien's hair, and black jeans torn at the knee. A tight white t-shirt showed she had an impressively tough physique, too.

Nodding, Damien pat his chest to make sure he had his knife. He did. "I've seen her around Devil's Corner before. She leads a gang, sort of. More like a group of friends who are willing to get a fist or two bloody, if she wants them to." He wasn't sure if that really qualified as a gang, since she didn't bother with some delusional claim to territory.

"I've seen her too. She's been quite mean to some folk, some store owners, taking things from folk on the street." Fiona rubbed her hands together, and licked her lips. "I saw her and her friends beat up a man and steal his motor."

"And you want to punish her."

"Aye. Punish her, make her afraid. I have to make her afraid. Fear." Again the beautiful creature licked her lips. She was wearing blue jeans and her brown leather jacket. Very much not the sort of clothes you found in Devil's Corner, where tank tops and dangling chains reigned supreme, but it looked cute on her. "Let's go eat her."

"Hey, you're not allowed to kill anyone."

"I ken! I... know, I know." With a frown and grump, she bounced in spot a few times, and folded her arms. "And, she doesnae deserve to die, I dinnae think."

"Have... any of your meals been of people who didn't deserve death?"

"I think they aw deserved it. A lot of them were men wha' beat their wives." She shrugged and set her back against the alley wall. "My favorite dinner."

"I thought you were from a small place in Scotland?"

"I am."

"Were the people nice?"

"Aye, very. Everyone thinks Scots are cursing and swearing and drinking all the time. Nae there," she said. Didn't sound like her. Rebellious teenager much?

"Why the particular favorite meal, then?"

"I dinnae ken. It must be from Vrall's old lang syne. She's so old, and I think she's been inside many folk. Maybe something in the past happened?"

He nodded as he slid his hands into his pockets. "I... still have no idea how that works."

She laughed, and reached out to touch his chest for a moment. Unlike her, he was wearing a trench coat, and a suit underneath. Typical Mekhet fashion; and he had to admit, he liked the look of it on Daniel, so why not himself, too.

"I dinnae ken, either. But Vrall came to me, devoured me, consumed and became me. The others, they're blank slates. With me, Vrall came with her own memories. I dinnae ken if she was a Begotten back then, or maybe something else, or a special nightmare. Aw I ken is, I'm Vrall, and Fiona. We're nae separate."

Not separate made it a little easier to understand, he supposed. The transformation from human into something else hit them all differently. For a vampire, it was awakening to a dark, beastly thing inside the chest, inside the heart, inside the soul. It wanted blood, as a managed resource. It wanted territory it could defend. It wanted a safe place to sleep, away from sunlight, safe from anyone finding them while they were a corpse.

"Consumed you." Yeah, that was more terrifying than the embrace. At least, more terrifying than Damien's. He'd accepted Lucas's deal, and dying during the embrace was a blur. Jack, he supposed, must have been terrified during his ordeal, though.

"The nightmares hit everybody differently, but one thing's always the same. Something comes for ye, hunts ye in whatever way is theirs, and they murder ye." She shivered too, but all her shivers earned from her was a bigger smile. "I've never met any other Begotten, except for 'ere in Dolareido. Azamel told me once about a Begotten she knew a long time ago, whose horror was a giant squid monster!"

"... was he a fisherman?"

"Aye, that he was! And he had this recurring dream where, when fishing, a monster came up from underneath, and dragged him down into the depths. Long, inhuman tentacle arms, a dozen of them, giant enough to break his wee ship apart. And then they came for him, and pulled him down, and down, and down, into the drink. Down to ole Davey Jones." Giggling, she bounced around a couple more times, shivering still. "Eeeeeeh the darkness of the ocean depths are terrifying."

"I thought you were a monster of darkness? Eshamki, you said?"

"I am, but that's not the same as a Makara. Monsters... of the depths." She rubbed her arms, as if fighting off the chills of fear. Maybe she was. It was hard to tell excitement from fear with her.

"Do you enjoy roller coasters?"

"I love roller coasters!" She stared at him with jaw dropped. "How did ye ken?"

"Lucky guess." A young girl who seemed to enjoy thrills, enjoyed getting scared, and responded to it with giggles and bouncing. Amusement park rides of the scary sort were probably a favorite thing for her.

He couldn't imagine himself dealing with the crowd, or the lines.

"So, we should go break her nose! Pow pow. And, then ye can drink from her, and we can really scare her!"

"Do we need to beat her up?" He raised a brow, and gestured to the woman. "You said you feed on her fear."

"Aye, but it has to be a sort of fear. I have to make her be afraid cause of the bad things she did. I have to punish her. She has to ken. Know." She emphasized 'know', as if it were decadent chocolate. "She has to ken she did wrong, and she's being punished for it."

"I see."

"Come on, let's go have a blether with her."

"... what do I say?"

"Hmm. Actually, I'll do the talking. I dinnae think ye like talking much." She grinned at him, like a squirrel, a mischievous squirrel drunk on a fermented pumpkin.

"I'll have you know I served as bishop and consultant for many Kindred of the faith." Most of which were dead. The few that had not joined Lucas on his kamikaze attack, the few not dominated by the strange power of Tony's old underground headquarters, had rejoined the Invictus.

"True! And—hey, let's have a go at something different. Use yer cloak of night to hide yerself, and we'll get behind her. Grab her, really scare her."

Hide just himself? "How will you hide yourself?"

Laughing, she took his hand, and started to walk him out onto the sidewalk. Devil's Corner, this time of night, was a dangerous place, and a young woman and the man she was pulling along looked like prime targets. If some kine tried to mug them, it'd be a way to get in a meal for him. But Fiona's hunger was specific, and needed to be satisfied in a specific way.

It added a unique element to the hunt. Better to let her lead.

A moment later, they were standing in the darkness of the next alley, the two of them behind their prey. The woman no doubt considered herself dangerous and deadly, a woman to be feared, carving a slice of life for herself out of the shit of Devil's Corner. But, she was only human.

Damien extended his Cloak of Night, the invisible aura embracing all within range, and gave Fiona a nod. Again, grinning and smiling at him like she was, indeed, about to go on a delightful roller coaster ride, she hopped over to their meal.

But then she was gone. Blended into shadow, disappeared. Not like the Cloak of Night, which made the eyes slide off, but instead, she'd become darkness itself. Like trying to see a shadow in a shadow.

Damien half expected her to jump out of the darkness and yell 'boo!'. But instead, she reformed near their prey, like droplets of black ink in water, stopped, and motioned for him to come close. Show off. Grinning all the more, she made some grabbing hands, and wrenching arms in the air, indicating he should grab the woman from behind.

Shrugging, he stepped up behind the woman, and grabbed her.

"What the fuck!"

This kine had good reflexes. She almost managed to pull away, but he got his arms underneath hers, and brought his hands up behind her neck. A full nelson; hilarious position, and difficult to end a fight with. But it did render the other person incapable of using their arms. If done on the ground, she wouldn't be able to use her legs either, but they were standing, and she tried to kick back at him. All she got for her trouble was a hard jerk of her whole body, vampire strength used to whip her from side to side, and douse the flames of her struggles.

"Ye've been a bad lass," Fiona said, stepping around Damien and standing in front of their prey.

"What the fuck are you—" A punch to the gut, from the tiny redhead, shut up the meal hard.

"Ye've been bad. Ye've been hurting people."

"I... what... what're you..." Gasping and squirming, the woman tried to lift her head up to look back at Damien, but with both his hands pressing down on her neck, it was easy to keep her head under control. If he wanted to, it'd be easy to dislocate her shoulders, or break her neck. They weren't allowed to kill, though.

The twinkle in Fiona's eye told him she'd be able to, if she wanted to. Maybe not this prey, who hadn't done enough to deserve death, but it was plain to see the Scot didn't have any of the struggles with violence he expected of her. Judging from what she'd told him, her life in her old home had been boring, and contained none of the violence or salaciousness of Dolareido. How had she'd become so confident, and perhaps a little sadistic? It was at such odds with her bubbling joviality.

"Ye've been hurting folk. Ye've been stealing from folk. Ye've been bad."

"I—"

Fiona punched the girl in the face, hard enough to make her jerk a little. "Ye stole that lad's motor, and hurt him. He was taken away in an ambulance."

Perhaps Fiona was at peace with being a monster, as she seemed to be at peace with a lot of things. The secret to her happiness, or willful ignorance, he couldn't tell. Maybe both. He was excited to learn more about her though, what made her smile despite the insanity thrown her way. She'd only become Begotten a year ago, barely twenty years old, and yet looked comfortable with assaulting a thug.

"What's it to you?" the prey said. Wow, she was tough. Courage and stupid went hand in hand.

Fiona leaned in close to her, and pulled out a knife. It was enough to stir the prey, make her squirm, struggle, but when she tried to use her legs again, Damien was quick to give her a hard jerk once more. Hold still.

"Ye ken what I do to mean folk?" Fiona said. "Minging folk like ye?" She set the blade against the woman's neck, under the jaw, and pressed up. With her head trapped between the knife and Damien's hands, it was enough to get the woman trembling. He couldn't see her eyes, but from how she was shaking in his arms, he knew the prey's eyes would be wide.

"P... please don't." The threat of getting a knife up through the jaw and into the tongue would break anyone. No shame in that.

"Ye shouldnae hurt folk." Fiona pressed a little higher, and Damien breathed in the smell of a drop of blood. Delicious, thick, warm life. The prey continued to struggle and squirm, doing her best to push her head up and away from the sharp thing pressing against the soft underside of her jaw. It smelled intoxicating, and he was growing hungrier by the second.

"I... I won't... hurt anyone anymore."

"Ye better nae. If ye do, I'll be back with my friend, and I'll jam this knife right into your head."

"Please... d-don't... do that."

Smiling, as if someone had injected heroine straight into her veins, Fiona let out a long sigh of bliss, and nodded to Damien.

He adjusted his hands, one pulling the woman's head to the side, the other holding her torso against his chest, and he sank his fangs into her neck.

"What!? What are you... do... ing."

The Kiss, hard, fast, left prey little option but to become weak, paralyzed, and exhausted within seconds. And as her blood gushed into his mouth, he swallowed it down, and her exhaustion became unconsciousness. He let out a small growl into her neck as he drank, and looked to Fiona as she watched him.

She looked hypnotized.

He growled again. Something about being watched by a beautiful creature, someone else seeing the dark, almost dirty act of a Kindred feeding, sent a spark up his spine. The two of them had found this woman, this prey, cornered her, and fed on her, together, without having to split the resource. He got all the blood, while Fiona looked quite happy with the result. She fed on the fear. How, he couldn't begin to understand. But it was obvious with how she smiled at him, that she was satisfied. More than satisfied. She looked like she was high, eyes almost rolling up, matching the intoxicating bliss of thick, warm blood coating his throat, filling his stomach, and sending pulsing life into his dry, withered veins.

He licked the bite mark until it was healed, let the prey go, and set her down against the wall, sitting. He'd drank her fast, and he quivered for a moment as he focused on the tingling bliss of the belly full of warm blood, spreading out. It shot life out into his extremities, forced him to Blush Life, and got his dead heart pumping. A shot of adrenaline, for a vampire.

"That was delicious," Fiona said, coming up to him as she put her knife away. "When ye bit her, she must have thought ye stabbed her, cause she was terrified. Absolutely terrified." She rubbed her arms, and came in closer. "Perfect."

He took a deep, useless breath, and managed a small smile for the little redhead. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

There was silence for a moment. The two of them stood there, looking at their prey, and then each other. Of course he broke eye contact first. Eye contact was difficult. And with the meal's blood pumping through him, everything took on the edge of biological influence. A beautiful girl smiling at him filled him with... fuzzies, he supposed someone might call them, goosebumps too. He wasn't sure, it being the first time he'd ever felt them.

She stepped up to him, reached out for his arm, and put it over her shoulder. A snap of her fingers later, the two of them stepped out onto the street, and began walking the sidewalk again. With his arm on her shoulder, it must have looked like he was leading her, when she was very much the one leading him.

"Ye should tell me a wee bit about yerself!" she said.

"Me?"

"Aye. I dinnae ken much about ye."

"Um." Ok, talking about the self, his favorite topic. He could do that. Sure. "I don't remember much about my time as a human. It was long ago, and there wasn't much noteworthy. Except for meeting Lucas."

She nodded with the man's name. "I dinnae ken anything about yer sire."

"He vied for power. Fifty years ago, Antoinette killed all of his bishops and any of his followers that stood against her. She'd have killed me too, if the sheriff hadn't decided to spare me back then... and again, later. I helped Lucas go into hiding, in a hole deep underneath Devil's Corner. He went to sleep, into a deep torpor, so the sheriff would not be able to find him; as easily at least. It worked. I waited fifty years for the right time to revive him. Within weeks of his revival, he had recruited a group of young Invictus and Carthians, and had concocted a plan to kill the Prince. It almost worked, but... it didn't. In the end, most of his followers had died, and him as well. I almost died, but Daniel and Natasha saw that I was... not happy, with the new Lucas. He'd been a zealot and dictator in his previous life, and when I revived him, I did not realize torpor would make the horribleness of him, things I'd been in denial of about my sire, even worse."

When he glanced down to the small thing under his arm, he blinked at her staring.

"Oh my god, Damien! When I said tell me about yerself, I meant, like, what do ye do with yer free time? What kind of hobbies do ye have?" Laughing, she pat his back, and nudged her head against his side. "Ye need to learn to relax, but I cannae blame ye for being stressed, with a history like that! Fifty years? What did ye do during that time?"

He raised a brow. Thinking about his past like that was normal for him. Maybe that was a problem.

"I hid. I rarely left Devil's Corner, but I quickly learned how to use the Cloak of Night to greater skill than most. I tried to enforce the Lancea et Sanctum's philosophies; punishing the wicked, scaring strays back into the arms of God, and the like. It... it was hard, staying in the shadows for that long."

"Awww! Poor lad." Without a hint of sarcasm in her tone, the monster clutched him with her one arm behind his back as they walked. "That does sound horrible."

"I try to—"

"No no, come on, it was horrible. Admit it."

"... it was horrible."

Nodding, she rubbed her cheek into his side and chest, and hugged him closer. "Ye were hiding in this sort of place for fifty years. I'm only twenty."

"It's not really the same. Kindred don't age, and our minds don't really... change much, as we get older." Outside of the horrible twisting torpor could cause, at least. "My personality will be the same for eternity, I guess." A gift or curse, depending on that personality. He wasn't sure, himself.

"Begotten age, but how we age is different per person. Azamel aged very slowly, and I wouldnae be surprised if I do, too." Nodding, she squeezed his side a little harder. "And even if I don't, I wouldnae let that worrying stop me from enjoying the now."

"Are you sure? Remember what happened in Highlander?" Even he had seen a movie every now and then. Swords interested him. So did the band Queen.

"Highlander? Never heard of it."

He laughed. "It contains a tragic tale of an immortal who finds love with a human, and stays with her until she dies of old age."

"We could go watch it?"

"Um, sure. It has... Christopher Lambert, French American actor, playing a Scottish swordsman. And Sean Connery... playing an Egyptian... Spaniard..."

She raised both brows, and tilted her head from side to side, scanning him to see if he was lying about the strange casting. He was not.

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~~Natasha~~

She smiled up at Art, and melted against the man's chest. He was underneath her, and sitting in the tub, while she was lying on him, her head on his chest, and her ass snug to his pelvis. They were in their normal human form, Hishu they called it, instead of Dalu form; it meant a noticeable drop in their aggression, and a small drop in size. Gentle sex was back on the menu.

Jessy having sex with one of them in Gauru form must have been absurd. Dangerous! So dangerous, and... strangely hot. But still, very dangerous. Their Dalu forms had been enough to give Natasha a fright, despite how awesome the sex had been. Awesome, and a bit painful, considering the size difference.

They were almost done now, she hoped. Much as she was loving gentle sex, she was exhausted. Matt had already cum inside her, twice, and Art was working up to a second orgasm too; and the man was in her butt, as he had a penchant for doing.