The knife went cleanly into his face. She'd stabbed him under the cheek, likely aiming for his temple and missing, and the metal pushed through the upper half of his jaw to come out the other side of his face. He was no Daeva wimp, he was a Ventrue, and no Ventrue would stop simply from a knife through the face. He continued crushing her neck, and jerked his head about to dislodge her grip until her hands grabbed his wrists. She wasn't strong enough to escape this. He knew it. She knew it.
"You tried to kill my friend. You failed." He threw her weight against a nearby wall, but held onto her neck hard enough that he heard bone snap. The heat was rising, fire danced up the old furniture and dirtied carpet, and smoke clouded the air. "I'm going to break you until you can't move, and then I'm going to toss you into the fire."
This time he smashed her down against a nearby table. Everything in the building was so old and worn, it gave way without resistance, so the girl crashed into the floor with wide eyes. Her hands reached out in obvious panic, and Julias glared down at her with enough rage that he could feel it coursing through his fingers. More things went pop in her neck. Her fingers found something on the floor, but he didn't care. She was dead.
By the time he'd realized what Rebecca had grabbed onto, it was too late. The crushing force of a hammer to his skull knocked him to the side, his grip lost and his balance gone.
"Fucking hell—"
She hit him again. And again. He could feel his skull cave inward under a flurry of blows from the hammer — a mallet, it looked like — before the heating floor rose up to meet him. Then, blackness.
Jack had no idea blood could be so warm.
What happened? He was on a rooftop, that much was clear, and from what he could see, he was at least ten stories up. A quick glance over the edge, complete with some vertigo and mild dizziness, confirmed his suspicion. Julias's place was only a few blocks down the street; he recognized some of the buildings even from the weird angle.
There was blood on his lips, his chin, even his neck. It'd been warm only seconds before, so warm, but now in the cold night and on his cold body, it was just as cold. The sweet, sweet taste of it was on his tongue, and the tingling bliss it filled him with rippled out into his limbs from his core. It was just like Julias's drink, but a thousand times more powerful. The hunger was gone, and he felt like he could take on the world.
The corpse behind him made him want to puke.
There was no ladder to get up this high. He must have climbed it. He didn't remember climbing the building, or who this person was. They were dead though, and their eyes weren't closed. They were just staring up at nothing, with the person's face frozen in a terrified expression.
He walked over to the body. A woman. She was in a coat, a few of the buttons torn off, and a business suit underneath. She looked maybe forty, but he couldn't tell. Nothing looked right. There was no subtle movement to her lips or eyes. No blinking. It was like some uncanny valley. With a shaking hand, he reached out to touch her face. Cold. A mess of red was around her neck, staining her blond hair, and the puncture wounds were obvious and messy. The flesh wasn't just punctured, but ripped and torn, like some animal had bitten her neck and thrashed.
She had a wedding ring.
"I ... I don't..." He fell back onto his butt, and sat there. There was a corpse in front of him. Her blood was on his lips. When he buried his face in his hands, fuzzy images of screams, walls, and darkness crept up on him.
The shaking started. He dragged his fingers down his face and stared at the woman, even as every second made him want to wretch his guts out. His body fought against the urge; it demanded blood. The thing inside him, that hidden thing clawing at his ribs, was satisfied and would not let it go, no matter how much he wanted to puke it out. Jack could only hug himself tighter.
"She's dead. She's dead. She's dead." More memories sneaked their way into his consciousness. He'd been on the street, and he'd been hungry. Overwhelmingly hungry. He was supposed to get back to Julias's and have some of his blood drink, but he couldn't wait anymore. That thing inside him, it ... it demanded blood. It just demanded it.
"I did this. Fuck ... fuck..." That barrier between reality and acceptance came crumbling down, bit by bit. Not just a corpse, not just a blood bag. This woman was married. She had a family. She had a life. Her blood had been so warm. "God ... fucking ... damn it."
He sat there and cried for a while in the dark, until the woman was paler than even him. How long until sunrise? A part of him thought about just waiting it out and letting the sun take him, but the thought quickly passed. Suicide was a coward's way out. He killed someone. He had to accept that. He had to ... deal with that.
"Shit. The Masquerade." The puncture wounds on her neck were obvious. No one would have mistaken this for anything but what it was: a vampire attack. "I ... fuck. Run. I could run. I could leave! Viktor couldn't find me. I could hide and..." Only the dead quiet of the corpse in front of him answered. He couldn't hide, not from Viktor, not from Xnomina. Where the fuck could he run? Sunlight would kill him!
And even if he did run, this corpse would end up on the news, and the puncture wounds in her neck would lead to all sorts of media sensationalism about vampires, warranted or not. Then Julias would have to pay for his mistake. He couldn't do that to Julias.
"I ... have to ... deal with this."
Easier said than done. He leaned over the woman — the body — and put a hand over her face. Closing her eyes did not feel natural. How many movies had he seen where they closed the person's eyes? But he couldn't let her ... let it see him do what he needed to do. Couldn't let it watch.
He pulled out a knife.
Blood. There was blood being forced into his mouth. Julias didn't think twice about it and opened his mouth wider to let the sweet nectar flow down his throat.
The revitalizing power of fresh human blood always astonished Julias. He could feel his stomach reseal, his gashes close, and his skull begin to reform. His left eye returned, and with it did his eyesight, though he could still only see darkness. He must have been underground. Was someone feeding him?
His neck eventually closed and allowed his shriveled lungs to pass air. His voice returned, and he took a few moments to make a grunt or two to test it.
"Where ... where am I?" He tried to move to at least determine his orientation. Snapping to consciousness in the dark gives horrible vertigo. His arms refused to move, but he could feel they were functioning. His legs too did not move either.
"Deep in the South Hill Cemetery. The old catacombs."
He knew that voice. A woman's voice. He tried to turn his head to see as his Kindred eyes adjusted, but even they had trouble deep in the dark.
"Catacombs? What ... did you... ?" He tried to move his arms and legs again, and this time the binding chains were apparent. They rattled lightly against the hard floor from his attempts to dislodge them, and even his healed body could not free them. They weren't there for kine, they were for Kindred.
"Julias Julias Julias. You don't recognize my voice? I'm hurt."
His head raised at the sound of a thud and clattering of what he had to guess was bone. A stairway showed just the hint of candlelight from a room above, and a stairway connecting them. A corpse was strewn across its steps now.
He sighed. The blood had to come from somewhere.
"You're ... Beatrice."
"Ah, I am so glad you remembered."
He almost gasped when the Kindred crawled onto his body, silent as a snake. She straddled him and smiled in the dark, even as her hands dragged up and down his bare chest. Bare?
This close, he could see more of her features in the dark, and combined with memories, managed to piece together what she looked like. He remembered her claws, long and unnatural. He could see her raven hair that reached her shoulders and framed her face. He could even see the odd green of her eyes and the black slits within them, like a reptile's.
With a chuckle, the Nosferatu brought a candle out and lit it with a strike of a match, and immediately the image was completed for him. She was tanned, for a vampire, and her features were almost predatory in how they highlighted the sharp, piercing gaze of her serpent eyes. She had an average height, but with a body built for flexibility and strength both. She was wearing jeans with a white tank top, and her midriff was completely exposed to show her rather impressive low body fat. She wore no bra, and the tight top highlighted her defined torso and pert breasts.
If he didn't know better, he'd think she was showing off. He remembered her though, at the last meeting they saw each other years ago. Nosferatu. She wasn't showing off, she just didn't care.
"I remembered you of course, Mister Julias Mire. Always in such a nice suit like a typical Ventrue. I think that Daeva ruined this one though." She let out a playful laugh and brushed aside remnants of his shirt to expose his chest.
Her laugh was what brought a quick shock back to his system. While her mouth seemed perfectly normal at a glance, past either side of her lips she carried an array of massive crocodile teeth that hooked outside of the jaw and cheek, instead of being hidden within human cheeks. When she opened her mouth, she opened it like a crocodile did, and exposed the myriad of teeth she carried. Perhaps that's why she kept her hair framed around her face, to hide her teeth, if only a little?
"I, what ... you ... you saved me?"
"Yes, I did. Brought you here last night, before the sunrise. You should thank Mr. Dunferl over there for his blood," she said with a gesture to the corpse on the stairs behind them. "He wasn't very willing at first, but then I made him relive his worst nightmare. Dark, dirty man." She put a claw to his lips. "I remembered you didn't like killing innocent kine, so I made sure to find one you wouldn't mind disappearing."
Last night. Shit. Jack would be wondering where he'd gone, or worse, something could have happened to him too.
" ... thank you."
"Don't mention Superman. Now you owe me one."
"I see. I do indeed ... is that why I am tied up?" He looked at the binding metal on his left and right wrists.
"No. That's so you can't get away while I torture you. The Carthians caught wind Tony was checking something out, something important enough to send Rebecca. Then, funny enough, I found you." She traced her claws up and down his chest again, and let them dance along the indentations of his broad muscles. Having just drank blood, his body was fueled and feeling the blush of life, and her claws on his skin proved strangely stimulating. "I saw an opportunity. Rebecca bashed your head in good and left you for the sun, or fire." She snickered. "No one else knows what's happened to you. I can just leave you strapped here until you tell me what I want to know."
"I'll tell you."
"I'll start with—wait what?" She sat upright and glared daggers down at him. She even put her hands on her hips, and Julias had to force his lips to not smile at her childish expression.
"I'll tell you."
"I heard you! You ... you're not supposed to just tell me, what the fuck Superman. Resist!"
"I'm sorry? You did save me after all, and there's little I can do to get out of this situation. Besides, there's not much to tell. The Invictus wanted me to check out the location for a Mekhet named Vance's belongings. Apparently he has or knows something we want." Julias gave a small shrug. "But I imagine you knew all that, otherwise you wouldn't have shown up at the location as well."
"Yes. Arg, fuck you you ... fucking Ventrue. You're not in control here!" She planted both her hands against the stone floor around his head and leaned forward. Her serpent eyes practically glowed, and her mouth opened at the cheeks to expose her assortment of teeth before she closed it. When her mouth was closed, her lips looked perfectly human, until the corners of her lips met with the array of massive crocodile teeth.
"Sorry."
"And stop apologizing! Fucking Superman."
The two held eye contact for a moment, and Julias wondered about the Nosferatu before him. Her green, serpent eyes were gazing down at him with enough predatory fervor that the beast in him was trapped in a strange mix of fright and intrigue. She really was beautiful, but her crocodile mouth couldn't be hidden even with her black hair trapped over the sides of her face. The center part of her mouth though, the human lips, were dark and ... inviting?
It was Jack's fault. It had to be. Before the kid even knew about Kindred, he was sharing tales with Julias about being attracted to scary women, women in horror stories, women with teeth.
He blamed video games and the internet.
"The fuck are you looking at." She lowered her gaze further, until their noses were almost touching. "Ladies' man not used to looking at a chick with teeth? Thought you'd be used to Nosferatu with one of your bosses being one."
"I am, and she ... looks nothing like you."
"Sorry not all Nosferatu got the same little quirks." She opened her mouth wide this time, far wider than a human could, and showed both her array of massive teeth, and a long dark tongue before she closed up. "We can't all be delicate little flowers for your fucked up Superman save me routine. Don't think I haven't seen you in the clubs and bars, seducing soft, gentle girls and giving them a night of passion and romance and a goodbye Kiss."
"I didn't—"
"Shut the fuck up." She drove her hand into the stone next to him, literally into the stone, so that her claws sank an inch through the floor. Nosferatu was strong. "Now I'm pissed. Staring at my face like that. I should just rip you to bits right here." She sat upright onto his pelvis, and Julias bent a little at the hip when her butt landed against his crotch.