My Little VentrueChapter 34 free porn video

~~Jack~~

If there was one way he was going to die, it’d be between two dangerous women.

Antoinette’s tiger eyes returned, with all the ferocity and rage of when Lucas had crashed her ball. Like a crushing storm, being so near her shook him to his core as the rage poured off of her, buried him in rolling thunder that vibrated his bones and pulled his gut up into his throat. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, thank god; her eyes would have bore holes through his body and couch otherwise.

The love of his life got up from the couch, stood up, and stared at the intruder.

“You have nerve, Avery.”

“Hey, I’m just here to talk to my middleman. Didn’t think he’d be here boning his girl, let alone boning the Prince.” Avery stepped in nice and close, and looked up at the woman over a foot taller than her, with something between a grin and smirk on her face. “Kind of young for you don’t you think?”

“Kindred do not see years as you do, wolf. He is an adult, as am I.”

Jack sat up, but stayed sitting, and quiet. Getting up would imply he wanted to get involved in the conversation, and he wasn’t that stupid. Not yet at least.

“Right, sure.” With a snort, Avery walked around Antoinette, exposed her back to her, and started to explore Jack’s apartment. Every step dripped of confidence, but where Kindred would make subtle jabs at each other, a lot of passive aggressiveness, Avery’s jabs were blatant, aggressive, direct, and honest. Sort of. “Had a couple tips that you two were an item. Had to see it to believe it.”

“Is that why you have come to my love’s home?” Antoinette turned to face Avery, but the werewolf didn’t seem to mind having the elder watching her exposed back. “To insult me, pry into m—”

“Nope. Dead serious, came to talk to my middleman. Who’s doing a piss poor job right now.” Her fingers found his other couch, window, counter tops, his fridge, cupboards, and continued to glide until she found his hallway before disappearing into the bathroom. “God damn you Invictus love to waste money. This is a nice place.”

Oh god if Avery joined the group of people who kept randomly visiting his apartment, he’d have to move.

Jack looked at Antoinette. Safe to talk? A tiny glance from her suggested otherwise, but with a few more seconds, she let out a long, annoyed sigh, and sat down on the other couch while doing up her blouse’s buttons. Ball in Jack’s court then.

“You uh, wanted to talk to me, Avery?”

“Yeap.” The small, brutish woman poked her head out from the bathroom, smirked, and walked back down the hall to join them in the living room. “No wonder this building only gets one apartment per floor.” Once in the living room, she looked down from the enormous window nearly the size of his wall, and then around the curve into the other hallway. A short-lived hall that opened to his very, very large bedroom. “A Ventrue and a Daeva, bet you two brainwash dozens of humans to be your sex slaves.”

He frowned and said nothing. Neither did Antoinette. The wolf’s prodding wasn’t worthy of a response, and it was blatant instigating.

“So,” she said at last, “a few hours ago, half my pack were scouting the area near Devil’s Corner, and ran into some Kindred guy named Damien. Don’t know him. He was with some girl named Fiona.”

Oh shit. He looked to Antoinette, and she looked at him. Hard to read her expression, solid and flat as it was except for a slightly raised eyebrow. Her silence was like a green light for him to handle the situation, and he was really hoping for a red light.

“ ... I know them,” he said.

“Do you?” Avery came back to join them in the living room again, and she leaned against the wall as she wiped her bottom lip with her thumb. “Want to fill me in?”

He steeled himself, folded his arms across his chest, and looked at her. Antoinette was right behind him, if shit went badly. But then, she wasn’t on his side either, not really. She’d keep him from getting killed, but she’d also take advantage of any information she heard for her own gains. Walk carefully Jack.

“Damien is a Kindred of the Lancea et Sanctum.”

“Is he now? Thought they were done with Lucas gone.”

Jack nodded. “Damien is trying to revive the covenant.”

Antoinette scoffed, more than loud enough for Avery to understand her annoyance with Damien.

“Right,” the werewolf said, “black sheep then. And Fiona?”

“ ... a young Begotten.” Not like he could lie and say she was Kindred; the Uratha would find out he was lying. He couldn’t lie and say she was human either, they’d figure that out too.

“Begotten? You mean a monster? Been fucking decades since I’ve run into one of them. The fuck kind of hole city you running here, Ann?”

The Prince stared daggers into the wolf, but said nothing.

Jack put up a hand. “What’s Damien and Fiona got to do with the Uratha? You said your pack were near Devil’s Corner, not directly under it, so it doesn’t sound like Damien was violating your rule.”

She snorted and walked over to his window. Not a care in the world, she put her hand against the glass. Smudges, ugh. He kept his mouth shut as he ground his teeth.

“Azlu are sneaky fucking things. Weird tricks up their slee—in their webs. David thinks one of those fucking spiders has set up a home here in Dolareido; that’s why we’re here. So, cats out of the bag, we’re here for a host, Azlu.”

Jack looked over his shoulder at Antoinette, but the Prince looked as confused as he did. “Um ... Azlu? Host?”

“Yeah I’m telling you more than I should. But, after poking around and getting a feel for the city, I have to say I’m pretty happy with how things are here. You”—she spun around and pointed at Antoinette—”are still a fucking hazard and are going to bring hell down on this city if you keep fucking with the Gauntlet. But, things seem fine at the moment; only reason I’m telling you any of this. We think you might have an Azlu infestation.”

Antoinette’s gaze was ice, but again when Jack checked to see what she’d say, she tossed him a quick glance and green light.

“What do Damien and Fiona have to do with any of this?” he said. Spiders, she said spiders. Shit.

“Azlu are a problem. One of them has grown, and they’re skulking around in your fucking maze of tunnels.”

“My tunnels are much of the reason Dolareido is the haven it has become for Kindred.” Antoinette switched and refolded her legs as she leaned back and hooked her arms on the couch’s back. But, once she opened her mouth, ready to snarl, she sighed instead, closed her lips, and looked back to Jack.

Trapped between the two most powerful women in the city, in the world for all he was able to figure. God damn.

“Yeah, I know. Good for you Ann, you put together a nice city for vamps. You also put together a nice city for nasty shit to hide. I’m not your fucking janitor. I—”

Jack got in her face. Again. Just like with Jacob, except now it was Antoinette, another Kindred elder, another person Avery seemed perfectly content to piss off. No wonder she wanted a middleman, if she treated everyone this way. Classic case of knowing she was trouble and not being able to help herself, maybe?

“Damien and Fiona,” he said, “what do they have to do with this?”

Avery snorted as she met him, eye to eye. Don’t cower, don’t show any fear. Like dealing with any animal, don’t act afraid and don’t run. Maybe he should have lay down and pretend to be dead? He was tempted.

“The girl is dead. Just a corpse walking around, possessed by an Azlu.”

“ ... she didn’t seem dead,” he said, “didn’t feel dead.”

Avery reached out and poked him in the shoulder. It was enough to make him take a step back, and the touch of her finger on his body sent a jolt of panic through his limbs. He suppressed it; he was a Ventrue after all. Didn’t change that the touch of her fingers on his body made him want to bolt, shot vitae through his fingers and toes, ready for a fight. Made the beast in his gut growl and back up. Better than curling up in a ball on the ground at least.

Antoinette almost moved to intervene. Almost.

“Azlu are sneaky. I gotta repeat myself over, and over? None of you understand the threat this poses. The woman stopped my pack with a spiderweb. A fucking spiderweb. Think that’s a coincidence?”

“So they escaped.”

“Fucking vanished.” She snapped her fingers, hand outstretched and held beside his ear so the resounding snap was enough to hurt his hearing. Mean. “Running in the direction of Devil’s Corner at that. She’s hiding in there, fucking with the Wall. She’ll begin eating and absorbing people now, if she hasn’t already.”

Jack stood his ground. “She’s not Azlu, she’s Begotten. Damien said so and I believe him.”

“What, you think it’s just coincidence that the Azlu show up, and there happens to be a Begotten with a form like a spider, with abilities like a spider?”

“Or there are no Azlu,” he said.

Avery snorted and got in closer. “You don’t see what we see kid, don’t see what’s on the other side of the Gauntlet. You—nah, fuck it. I said my piece. You see that Fiona girl, avoid her.”

And with that, the werewolf left. No glance back, no check for confirmation, no further instructions, just a door slam to mark her exit. Did she want him to tell her if he saw Fiona, or Damien? Woman’s communication skills were horrible.

But then, he doubted she was the leader of her pack for that. Probably the leader cause she knew how to make smart choices on the hunt, and because she was strong enough.

“I am sorry for her ill manners, my love.” Antoinette stood back up and came to him, hugged him, and rubbed his hair in that perfect way again. “But, I must act. If what she says is true, I will need to investigate. Shall we continue this another time?”

Damn. Cock blocked, as Beatrice would say.

“Yeah sure. I’ll see you later then?”

“Indeed.” She took his chin, aimed it up to her, and smiled with her red eyes as she leaned down to kiss him.

“Love you,” he said.

“I love you, mon amour.” But of course that wasn’t enough for the busty goddess, and she took his hand to press it against her chest, to cup her breast through the blouse and bra. “And Avery may have upset our date, but do not think I have forgotten what I said. Next we meet, hopefully, we may resume.”

He melted.

Knock knock.

“Oh my fucking god, someone kill me.” He stepped away from his once again clean window, and peeked through the peep hole. Beatrice. He smiled; someone he could get along with in a normal way, sort of. He opened the door. “Come in.”

“Yo, Jack. Seen Fiona around?”

“No. But Avery tells me the werewolves are hunting her. They say she’s Azlu.”

“Azlu? Fuck is that?” She walked over to the window and leaned against it, both hands to the glass. God damn it, the smudges.

“I don’t know. Some monster, I guess? Not a Begotten, but ... something else? Avery said it was a spider, or they were spiders? Just ... arg, that bitch refused to explain anything.”

“Yeah seems like that’s her shtick. Reminds me of Jacob.”

Jack reached out and grabbed the Nosferatu’s hand. Half to get her attention, half to get her claws off the glass. “Please tell me you didn’t tell Jacob that.”

“Fuck no. Kid you think I got a death wish?” Chuckling, she hopped over to the couch and sat down, as if she’d sat there a million times before. “So you were talking to Avery again?”

“Yeah. Seems like some of her pack ran into Damien and Fiona. And now they think Fiona’s this weird Azlu thing, so now they’re hunting her. She escaped with Damien into Devil’s Corner, but she’s vanished according to Avery.”

“Fuck. Hope the dogs don’t catch her, I like her.”

“Yeah, I do too.”

“She even likes metal music. You know how hard it is to find someone who likes metal? Like, quality good metal, long songs with good singers and shit.”

He blinked at her. She blinked at him. He tilted his head to the side, and so did she.

“ ... favorite band?” he said.

“Uh, not sure. Tough question. Probably Symphony X. Love the heavier sounds of their new albums.”

Jack’s jaw dropped, and he sat down on the couch across from her. “I. Fucking. Love. Allen’s voice, and Romeo’s solos? Orgasmic, fucking orgasmic.”

“Fucking yes!” Beatrice slammed her claws down on the table in front of her. It shattered. “ ... shit.”

God damn it.

Him and the Nosferatu, in the tunnels, with flashlights. Seemed to be the ‘in’ thing to do these days, go into the tunnels like they were exploring god damn ancient, abandoned tombs. In truth, there may have been such hidden secrets, considering the history of the tunnels and who used to lived in them, but he was perfectly content to leave them forgotten and lost.

But, he wanted to know what was going on, and so did Beatrice. If he asked Julias, his sire would have forced him to stay above ground. If he told Antoinette, she’d have probably locked him in her tower.

He was in a suit, Beatrice was in a black t-shirt cut short above the navel, and some torn up blue jeans and combat boots. An unlikely pair, doing unlikely things.

“Favorite guitarist?” she said.

“Tough call. I like Petrucci’s sound, but prefer Romeo’s solos. And if I’m in a heavy mood I prefer Loomis.”

“Fuck yes love me some Loomis. Your turn.”

“Favorite singer?”

She tapped a claw along her extra teeth as she shined her flashlight down the tunnel. “Probably Jørn. Can always rely on him for consistent belting power.”

“Yeah, I listen to a lot of Jørn, but doesn’t sing much of the heavier prog metal I like.” Jack rubbed his head as he let his mind wander over his favorite songs, singers, bands. “Personally I love Kelly Sundown.”

“Love me some Sundown too. That new album from Adagio? Some amazing shit in that album.”

“ ... so, I know you’re dating my boss and sire, and I’m dating the Prince, but I think we should dump them and hook up.”

She looked down at him and raised a brow, and he met her glance with the most steel, dead serious expression he could muster. Sure enough she broke into laughter, and stopped walking to reach out and lean against a wall.

“Maybe in the future kid. For now though I think they deserve a chance. Maybe we can convert them to the metal loving ways of our clearly superior musical taste?”

“Ha, maybe.” Probably not. Antoinette was into classical music, and a little of the modern era’s electronic movement; getting her to join him in loving metal was likely never going to happen though. “You got a plan about this, Beatrice?”

“What’s to plan? We’re just going to talk with Azamel.”

“Who I was expressly told to avoid, by Julias.”

“Yeah well, Julias is too protective. You’ve proven you got skills kid, Julias said as much. Said you had some interesting ambassadorial skills too. And besides, I’m here to protect your ass.”

He rolled his eyes. Triss was strong for her age, but she was no ancilla like Tasha or Jessy. If shit hit the fan, Jack had his large knife and his pistol, but neither would be of much use against the Uratha, and likely not useful against the Begotten. But maybe? For all he knew, putting a bullet between their eyes would kill them.

He kind of wished they’d turn around and go get Tasha, but he could see Beatrice wanted to do this with just him. Bonding moment? Nah, she wanted him with her cause she trusted him; and apparently people were starting to value his skills as an ambassador. Which was really weird.

“I kind of miss the days,” he said, “where I was just trying to stay afloat in this crazy new world, and trouble found me. Now I’m actively seeking out the trouble?”

“Not trouble! Bad way of looking at this, come on. More like, being proactive. We both know shit is about to explode, and now we know Fiona has something to do with it. So before Jacob and the wolves butt heads, let’s see if we can gleam a little information first.”

“Gleam? ... you want to spy on her, don’t you?” Nosferatu could hide like Mekhet, but Beatrice wasn’t Natasha.

“Maybe a little.”

“Don’t you have people in the Circle who’d help you with this?”

“Eh we all kind of do our own thing unless Jacob gives us an order, and Jacob’s gone silent psycho mode. Half the reason we’re doing what we’re doing. The wolves are hunting Fiona, and Azamel knows something about it. I want to learn about that, help Fiona, and maybe stop Jacob from doing something he’ll regret in the future. You said you were hanging out with him not too long ago?”

“ ... yeah.” Memories of Clara’s split mouth were not pleasant. One punch from the old man was devastating. Not even a punch, a backhand. “He can handle himself.”

“I’m not so sure. He told me what it’s like, when these wolves go full war mode kid. Fucking terrifying.” Triss shivered and rubbed her arms a few times. “So, Avery says Fiona is an Azlu, some sort of spider thing?”

“Yeah, says she’s fucking with the Gauntlet, whatever that is.” And that Antoinette was also fucking with the Gauntlet. Ordo Dracul business no doubt, and if he asked, she’d tell him such. “ ... we sure we don’t want to go ask Tasha or Jessy to come with us? Or if not some Invictus, how about Othello or Aaron?”

“Like I said, doing their own thing. As for your buddies, you can tell them what we learn when we’re done. Sorry if I don’t trust them. I’ve been dealing with them longer than you have.”

“Ever get into a fight with Tasha or Jessy?” He never really considered that. Hard to imagine that these people had been getting into scuffs with each other for years before he ever learned of vampires.

“Not really. Back then it was the trio, the right hands of the Invictus, always together and getting in the Carthians’ way. Garry would ask me to go check out a new building the Invictus were showing interest in, I’d show up and they’d be at the doors, preventing my access. Or they’d be in the tunnels blocking my access to areas Garry wanted some info on cause he thought the Invictus were spying on him in the area.” She laughed again. “Good times.”

“I ... I suppose it must have been. Just a few covenants to worry about, and only one of real opposition. Then Lucas returned, and then he died and things were fine for a whole five seconds before monsters and werewolves showed up.”

She laughed again and pat his shoulder. “I got to admit, over half a year now since you’ve been embraced, and it’s been the most crazy year for Dolareido in a long time. Coincidence?”

“ ... fuck I hope so.” Tony, Viktor, Lucas, why the fuck did all the crazy shit come flying his way? What did he do to deserve such a role in their lives? Other than having a bad habit of putting his foot in his mouth, and putting the same foot into business he should have avoided. “So, where is this Azamel?”

“Aaron says there’s been some unusual people hanging out deep beneath Morning Street. He didn’t get close, but he says they’re just hanging out there, and one of them is an old woman. Sounds like it could be her.”

“Sounds like it could be a few human squatters too.” And he kind of hoped it was. He wanted to go back to Antoinette, get back to being underneath her, feeling her huge breasts pressing on him, her lips tugging on his. This whole trip was likely to put another problem in her lap, and he didn’t want to do that.

Maybe it was his Ventrue blood coming through. Maybe it was his natural curiosity. Maybe it was just Jacob being correct, and he really did have some sort of unpredictable tenacity. He kind of liked Jacob’s appraisal, insults aside; it stroked his ego, and all Ventrue loved to have their egos stroked. But if his actions meant being a pain in the Prince’s ass, he didn’t want to do that. But then, if he ever stopped pursuing his personal or Invictus goals, even the ones that got in her way, Antoinette would likely think badly of him for it. And he would too.

“So, Jack, you get laid on a pretty regular basis now right? The Prince, and her ghouls too right?”

“ ... you are worse than Jessy. Yes, I do, with Antoinette. Sometimes her ghouls join us, sometimes they don’t. Didn’t we talk about this before?” The Jessy comparison was enough to make the Nosferatu sneer.

“Yeah just, I dunno, you’re still young and your opinion on this is valuable. You think it’s weird? Kindred just fucking everything and everyone all the time?”

“Um, not sure what you mean.”

“Yeah uh ... nevermind, forget it.”

He raised a brow as he looked at the deadly woman next to him. What was on her mind? No need to push though, not with Triss. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d talk about it.

It took a little while to get down to the tunnel beneath Morning Street. They passed some Nosferatu on the way, but no one Jack didn’t know. A small nod was enough for him to go by with only an innocent question or two from them. It meant Julias and the others would know he was down here, with Triss, but that was inevitable. Besides, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was nowhere near Devil’s Corner.

Julias would have words for the two of them later, no doubt. But it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. That philosophy seemed to come up a lot lately.

They turned off the flashlights as they got closer to their destination, and Beatrice covered them in the cloak of night. An invisible force that made his skin tingle as he felt his new partner’s vitae extend its influence out and over him. Like that force, they were now invisible. From a distance people would not be able to see them. From close, their eyes would pass over them like shadows. Not as strong as Tasha’s, much stronger than Amanda’s. Hopefully strong enough to let them approach the beast.

Humming. A voice. A quiet, gentle hum. Jack raised a brow and looked at Triss, but she shrugged and pushed on. The tunnels opened into a large room, and the two Kindred poked their heads out from around the wall into the enormous cavern.

A stage of concrete. Furniture. Some very ugly, old furniture that belonged in his grandfather’s home. No bed, but there were some drawers and a cabinet, and a changing curtain on a rod. A horrible, ugly green recliner, color faded and stained and covered in equally dingy red and blue flower prints. Good god if he sat in the chair, he was sure he’d find cigarette burns and smell cat.

But there was no nearby cat in the huge room. Just concrete walls, old lights, and an older woman sitting in the chair. Eyes closed, faded silver hair, short with the way age could make you shrink, and skin hanging off of her withered frame.

It was like Grandma had moved her living room and bedroom — minus the bed — into the Dolareido tunnels.

“Two children have come to my little home. Come closer, before I kill you.”

Welp, fuck. Every time he thought he had his bearings, something flipped them. Antoinette and Avery were the deadliest women in the city, but just a peek, just a glance, just a single fucking moment of voice, and this woman joined the list. How quickly he was reminded that he was an insect before gods.

The old woman’s voice was exactly what you’d expect from a old woman, complete with the history of smoking and screaming at children to get off her lawn. Her eyes were open but only a sliver, and she wasn’t even looking in their direction. As comfortable with her surroundings as an old woman in her living room.

Sighing, Beatrice stepped out from around the corner, and turned off the cloak. “Yeah, sorry. Kindred habit, you know?”

“Yes, I know all too well. I’m Azamel Venastroth, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Grandma leaned up from her chair and blinked her worn eyes at them, skinny and wrinkled fingers clutching at the arms of her recliner. “I said come closer.”

“Closer, right.” Shrugging off her shoulders, Beatrice started the walk toward the woman’s stage, and Jack fell in behind her. “I’m Beatrice, and this is Jack.”

“Little vampires that scurry and roam.” The old woman shrugged and brought a hand up so she could lean down, and rest her chin on her knuckles. “It was bound to happen with those dogs causing chaos above, I imagine. I wonder what they’re up to.”

She talked like a super villain, vaguely referring to things and letting their imaginations fill in the blanks; she knew more than she was letting on. The feeling in his gut as he got closer and closer to the old woman suggested as much, if not more, like instead she knew everything that was going on. Every step toward her felt like a step toward something terrible and vicious. Beatrice could feel it too; Jack could see her shivering a little as they came closer.

Begotten could see the beast in other creatures, according to Fiona. Kindred couldn’t, but they could feel something, they could feel an aura, something inhuman, some with hunger inside other Kindred, in the Uratha, and in Begotten. It was like trying to describe something you could only touch, its shape hidden in total black. You could feel something like teeth, feel something like bones and spikes and talons and claws and muscle and fur. You could hear the rumbling voice, silent but to the beast within. You could feel the heat of its breath, and taste the blood in it too.

This tiny, frail old woman’s beast felt like some lost, ancient deity, long buried in the desert, unearthed by curious explorers who didn’t know when to quit.

“Come then, speak little leeches, why have you come to my tiny hole in the Earth?”

Triss frowned and adopted a classic fuck-you-I-won’t-do-what-you-tell-me stance, arms across her chest and one of her feet out to the side. “We wanted to talk about Fiona.”

“Fiona.” Azamel shrugged, and sat back up straight in her chair. Her feet, complete with slippers, pushed against the concrete stage in a slow rhythm to get her chair rocking back and forth. Squeak. Squeak. “Why do you think I would know anything about her?”

“So ... she hasn’t come to speak to you yet then?” Jack said.

“Not yet, no. I’m sure she will, as all Begotten should.” The old woman started to cough, the deep gargling kind that came out of the lungs. “And if she did, why would that matter to a couple of young Kindred?”

“We’re her friends,” Triss said, “and we’re hoping to stop the Uratha from killing her.”

“The Uratha are hunting Fiona?”

Jack nodded. “We were hoping you’d know why.” And he doubted her ignorance was genuine.

Azamel stroked her spotted chin, and looked down as she contemplated. Such an odd scene, an old woman god thing, sitting in Grandma’s chair, in abandoned tunnels beneath a city.

“The Uratha,” she said, “are hunting spiders, as they are wont to do. Vermin according to them, relics from an era long gone, when their so called Father Wolf prowled the lands of flesh and spirit. Abominations, as they are. The wolves will not stop until the spiders are gone. I warned Antoinette these vermin would call attention to Dolareido.”

Jack came in closer, and stepped up onto the stage. A bit presumptuous maybe, but she did say come closer. “You knew the wolves would come?”

“Of course. It is in their nature. And if I had known those spider vermin were making their nest in the city, I would not have come.”

Triss raised a brow and came up to the stage, but not onto it. Defiant just to be defiant. “Why don’t you leave?”

“I have plans.” Grandma coughed a few more times, and gestured to the dresser near her. “Fetch my cigarettes.”

Jack shrugged, slid open the drawer and got her cigarettes, a lighter too, and handed them to the deadly monster.

She snapped them up, but her efforts to pull a cigarette from the pack took time. Arthritis maybe. Naturally, the old woman refused to ask for help, and with time managed to pull one from the pack and light it herself.

“Now,” she said as she balanced the lit cigarette on her lips, “you two either have a lot of courage or lack of brains to come visit me. And you Nosferatu are walking on thinner ice with each moment, so zip it.”

Jack choked down his desire to chuckle, and Triss lowered her arms with a grimace.

“I like to think we’re somewhere between,” he said. “We want to help Fiona, and we were hoping you could give us information about this mess of a situation.”

“Your goal to help Fiona is misplaced.” Azamel took a long drag of the cigarette, and tapped its ashes into the ashtray that sat upon the recliner’s arm. “But before I answer any questions, why should I help you? What does old Azamel get back for this?”

“An opportunity to help a fellow Begotten?” Triss said.

The old woman frowned at Triss, since she refused to ‘zip it’, but shrugged. “She’s not part of my plans.”

Plans plans. This Begotten sounded like a Kindred.

Jack scratched his buzzed head. The conversation was going well, surprisingly well. Just like talking to Grandma. “If the Uratha are hunting Fiona, they—”

“As I said, they hunt the spiders. What do Fiona and the spiders have in common?”

“Way Damien tells it,” Jack said, “Fiona’s monster half is very spider-ish.”

“Interesting.” Azamel nodded, took another puff, and blew the smoke toward Jack. “What else?”