Friday November 28th 2014

For once, they were out of the bathroom before Alexandra arrived. The vamp easily beat them on most days, taking a seat on the bed and reading her tablet. Cesare had wondered more than once why she got to the room so early, but he’d never had the courage to ask.

A knock at the door was quickly followed by Robert’s voice. “Cesare, I know you’re up. You and your gang are always up early. You’ve been avoiding your checkups, open up and take it like a man.”

“Come in, we’re decent,” Cesare called out. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the doctor. He was fine as far as doctors went, but every time he checked him over his eyes filled with questions Cesare wouldn't answer.

Robert slowly poked his head through the open door, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Everyone decent?”

“Yes, everyone’s decent,” Anastasia said. “Now.”

Grinning, the doctor raised his head. “Well then, I should give the young man some lessons on stamina.”  

“Oh, he doesn’t have any trouble with that.” Anastasia locked onto the sound of the doctor, following his steps across the floor with blind eyes.

Flushing, the doctor looked away with a pleased smile. Every year he treated girls in her situation. Oh, not quite as bad. Instead of acid it was blades, fire, or broken bones. They went from beautiful things that dazzled to maimed creatures of horror. Even worse, they became defined by their scars. Instead of being smart, strong, or nice, they became ‘the one with the scarred face.’ Their identity changed in an instant of brutal cruelty.

Seeing her ravaged lips twitching in her version of a smile, he couldn’t help remember past patients. There had been a girl who was burned over most of her body, a fight gone wrong. She went from being popular with dozens of friends, to a pariah. A month later, she'd hung herself in her room. She'd been nowhere near as bad off as Anastasia.

The difference was the young man reluctantly undoing his shirt. Even here in Anastasia’s room, the boy wouldn’t leave the girl’s side. They sat side by side on the bed with their shoulders touching.

Cesare pulled his shirt off, pitifully glad Anastasia couldn’t see him. There were some things he never wanted to talk about, never wanted to have to face or explain. If she saw what he hid under his shirt, he knew she’d start asking and never stop. He didn’t have the answers to make it right, not for her and not for him.

Probing the wound, Robert’s words were more for himself than anyone else. “It’s healing nicely, no thanks to you. You’re just lucky I went wide with the stitches or you’d be picking your guts off the floor every other day. You’re still pulling on them too hard. You know when they bleed, it means you’re being stupid.” The rant went on as the doctor’s gentle fingers moved over his handiwork.

“How … how bad is it, doctor?” Anastasia asked hesitantly. She didn’t want to know, not really. She didn’t want to go back to the dark days when she thought she’d lost Cesare.

Robert paused. No one knew what had happened in that clearing. Just that two students had tangled in an orgy of slaughter, the left over scars opening up more questions than they answered.

Anastasia had stood by Blaez as he recovered, never missing a checkup, always there with a helping hand. It had been romantic enough to keep the nurses buzzing for days. Now, here she was with Cesare, him doing everything she’d done for the wolf and more.

“Here, let me see your hand.” Robert carefully unwrapped the tips of her fingers.

He took her hand and laid it at Cesare’s hip where the trench started. “It starts right above the hip bone, that’s the entry wound. Because of the irregular shape of the claw, it gouged the flesh out, leaving a canyon behind. We had to stretch the skin from the sides to seal up the wound. That’s why the stitches are wide and deep, so we can stretch the skin without tearing.” Fingers trembling, she followed the wide furrow across Cesare's abdomen. “We got lucky that it missed the abdominal aorta, otherwise he would’ve bled out in that clearing. We avoided any organ failure, a distinct possibility when you expose the organs to the air.”

“It’s so deep …” Anastasia said, pain and sorrow a palatable weight in her voice.

“Yes, it is.” Robert grimaced in distaste as he watched her fingers trace up to Cesare’s pectoral muscle. “While we got lucky, the claw created a relatively shallow wound to start, our luck ran out after that. His breastbone has a line etched across it while the pectoral muscle was severed almost in two. That cut goes through three-fourths of the muscle. From there, you have a separated collar bone that’s held together with pins and wire.”

Cesare watched Robert guide Anastasia’s hand over the scar. “Looks like you’re doing as well as I could hope. If you cut back on the rough and tumble, you’ll heal faster.”

“If I cut back on the rough and tumble, you won’t have to worry about me at all, because I’ll be dead.” They both flinched at the raw truth of his words.

After Robert left, Cesare slipped his shirt back on. He wrapped an arm around Anastasia as she laid her head gratefully on his shoulder. “It’s not like I forgot you were hurt. It’s just that I never thought about it. Blaez’s scars are all up front and in your face, it’s impossible to ignore what he went through. I never thought how much you’d been hurt … you had no one while he had me.”

The door opened silently as Alexandra entered the room. She took in the two on the bed with an unreadable look. “I wasn’t alone. Alexandra and Elizabeth were there.” Anastasia’s flinch was deep and painful. It was the flinch of someone who’d cut another line across their soul, another bit of self-loathing to add salt to an already festering wound.

Alexandra beamed at him with relief and pride. She’d proven far more reliable than the akatharton and knew it. It didn’t matter that Anastasia was in the throes of horrendous pain or that her soul was ripping apart. Anastasia was nothing to the vampire.

Cesare accepted that. No, not just accepted, loved that part of her. Alexandra was vicious and mean, a killer without conscience or pity. Cesare knew that. He didn’t love her in spite of that, no, he loved that part of her just as much as any other part. He was the only one who did.

“I should have been there, or at least come by to see if you were okay … but I was so ashamed. I lied to myself, saying you didn’t want to see me because I couldn’t face what I’d done. Darkness, I’m such a selfish bitch!” Anastasia said it with the hatred people reserve for only two kinds of people, child rapists and themselves.

“Yes, you should have.” She didn’t pull back at his harsh words. He would stand beside her, but he wouldn't be her punching bag. “But you can’t do anything about it now. It’s over. All you can do is decide where you go from here.”

She turned her face into his shoulder as dry, racking sobs tore through her body. His arm held her tight to him. It’s hard to realize you’re the villain of your own story, that you aren’t the good guy saving the girl. Instead, you’re the fucked up thing hurting others for fun.

The door opened behind Alexandra. The vampire spun around, feet light and ready. Jerold’s words preceded him into the room. “Anastasia, we need to talk …” He trailed off as he took in the room.

Jerold filled the doorway, his light blue pinstriped suit pressed and creased, white-blond hair parted perfectly. Silence hung in the room as his eyes passed over the group. He was there to ambush Anastasia, there wasn’t any other reason to come to her room this early. How long had he waited outside for the doctor to leave? As the moment bloomed, Jerold pulled the trigger by stepping into the room.

Abraxas followed one step to the side and behind. The dragon was unbowed by the recent events, standing tall and in control. His black eyes swept over the two girls before resting on Cesare with dark malice. He knew who the players in the game were and wasn't distracted by the pieces.

Pantagruel stepped into the room with a grim look. Someone must have gotten to him and told him the way the wind was blowing. The Thagirion was like the mob. You didn’t leave it, it left you. If he wanted to graduate with all his limbs, he had to toe the line.

Blaez slunk in behind the giant, bracketing the door with Pantagruel. A railroad of torment and regret, his scars crisscrossed his face with wet looking stitches and inflamed trenches of flesh. A tattered cloak of reluctance clung to him, but like Pantagruel, he’d hitched his reputation and life to the Thagirion. Once you pay to get on the black train, it doesn't stop for doubts.

“This is a personal conversation. If you wouldn’t mind leaving us, Cesare … Alexandra.” Jerold motioned toward the door.

Anastasia zeroed in on Jerold's voice while she stood to face him. She pulled Cesare against her from behind, his arms enfolding her in his strength. “Anything you say to me, can be said in front of them.” Seeing Cesare wasn't moving to leave, Alexandra sunk her weight onto her heels. If he was staying, so was she.

“This is for the Thagirion only. You know the rules for an official Thagirion meeting, only members may attend,” Jerold countered quietly.

Anastasia trembled. No one could see it, but Cesare felt it along his body. She couldn’t even take him being out of the room when she was alone. There was no way she'd handle him leaving her with these guys.

“What about her harem?” Cesare's soft words shattered the pin drop silence of the room. Jerold’s lips thinned as black anger surged through his eyes.

“Are you, her harem?” Jerold countered smoothly.

Cesare shrugged with a grin at the dangerous teacher. “I am today. Right, princess?”

Pushing his hands down until they rode only a few inches from her core, she leaned back into him. “If he says he’s my harem, then he’s my harem.”

Jerold looked back and forth between them. Blind and burned, melted skin sheathing her in the mantle of a failure, tortured under the flaying words of the school, mewling in the remains of her dreams, she was supposed to be an easy target. All that vulnerability didn’t mean shit as long as Cesare was looking over her shoulder, especially with Alexandra standing lethally silent at his side.

“And what about you, Alexandra? Are you part of her harem as well?” Jerold asked, sizing up the vampire.

Alexandra’s teeth pulled back in a savage display. “Not even when hell freezes, but why don’t you have one of your boys make me leave?” A low, sub-vocal hiss followed the grim words as she challenged them.

Blaez dropped his eyes immediately, even at his best, he didn’t want to tangle with the psychopath. Pantagruel paled visibly, shuffling from foot to foot. Abraxas looked willing to give it a shot, but that would rip the building apart. Jerold settled his eyes on the vampire. Everyone knew the score. She was there for Cesare and no one else. There were two ways to get her to leave, with Cesare or by breaking her.

With a shake of his head, Jerold turned to Anastasia. “We need to talk about the Sanguine Nativitate, and if you will stay part of the Thagirion. You’ve been hurt and none of us expect you to fight soon, but that creates a problem. All members of the Thagirion must be able to fight in the Sanguine Nativitate and you can’t. Given that, I think it's best if we took you off the team.” Abraxas handed Jerold a sheaf of papers.

“Other members have had to retire because of injuries, there is no loss of honor. We would like to transition this through as quickly as possible, certainly within the next month. I know you have a commitment to the school, but with me leading the team your presence is no longer needed.” Jerold took out a pen.

“Cesare?” Anastasia asked, voice wavering. She could feel Jerold moving even though she couldn’t see him, but it wasn’t Jerold that put that quiver in her voice. This was one more thing the attack was taking from her. She’d already lost everything else, and Cesare had promised she wouldn’t lose her dream.

“What if she doesn’t sign?” Cesare asked, taking a step back, pulling Anastasia with him as Alexandra moved closer.

Holding the paper and pen, Jerold eyed Cesare. “I would declare her unfit for the Thagirion and dishonorably discharge her. She’d carry the dishonor for the rest of her life.”

“When?” Cesare asked, arms tightening around Anastasia. It wouldn’t happen, he’d see them dead before he let them hurt her.

“I’m sorry?” Jerold asked, eyes darting to Alexandra. As the exchange of words had grown tense, the vampire had risen onto the balls of her feet, ready to maim and kill. The close quarters of the room gave her an insurmountable advantage against the Thagirion.

“What you’re talking about is a process. That means she has a time limit to either get fit or get kicked. I’m asking, how long does she have before she’s booted?”

Jerold handed the paper back to Abraxas while giving Cesare a nod in acknowledgment of a point scored. “If after sixty days from notification she is still not fit for duty, then she will be discharged. That would be sixty days from today.”

Cesare bared his teeth in the bastard brother of a smile. His words were soft, the death rattle of a saint when innocence dies under life’s hell fire. “Good of you to give her the best chance you can.”

“You two are curses on the hallowed body of Primrose. You’ve brought only misery to these stones and only by the grace of the Cold One has no one died. I’m not the only one who's linked you to every incident that’s fouled the reputation of the school. I won’t see you hurt Primrose any more than you have.” Jerold’s breath frosted the air, a chill emanating from his being.

“She’ll be ready to fight in sixty days.”

“She’ll need to prove that against a challenger of my choice.” Jerold would pit her against one of the Thagirion, knowing the bastard, he’d put her up against the dragon.

“I’ll be ready.” The wash of heat from Anastasia's body slammed into the cold wave Jerold gave off, steaming the air between the groups. Jerold’s chill retreated back into his body before it became a fight. With a gesture, he gathered the Thagirion, the door closing with a click behind them.

“It was a mistake to put him in power,” Cesare said softly into the silence. He hadn’t figured on Jerold's fanatical loyalty to the school. He’d counted on the man’s love for the students, but hadn’t pegged him for a fanatic willing to bury kids to secure a greater goal. If he had to fertilize his fields with their blood, he'd do it and count the cost light.

“Will I be ready?” Anastasia asked, the strength leaving her in a rush. She wasn’t ready to deal with this, not so soon after the attack. But Jerold wanted her out of the Thagirion and the way to guarantee that was to finish what the acid had started.

“You’ll be ready,” Cesare said, smooth reassurance in every word. If she didn’t believe she could win ... she might as well cut her own throat. He wasn’t nearly as sure as he sounded, but he could fake it for Anastasia.

Drinking greedily from the strength he offered, Anastasia straightened with a nod. He needed her focused and ready to take everything he could feed her.

Cesare wheeled Anastasia along the path when Alexandra asked. “What are your plans for Winter Break?”

Cesare smiled over at the vampire. “Miss Raven told me students can stay at school over Winter Break if they can’t make it home. What about you?”

“The Order holds the Imago Mortis over Winter Break. The top squires compete in a battleground of the Orders choice.” Alexandra grinned at Cesare’s expression. “We don’t kill each other, but it’s not far from it. I’ve won every hunt they've sent me to, a few years ago the other competitors banded together against me.”

“You going to be okay?” Cesare asked. He knew she was strong, but the thought of her hunted by gangs of trained killers chilled his blood.

Shaking her head, Alexandra answered softly. “Every time it surprises me.” Seeing his questioning look, she continued, “That you care. My father only cares that I win. He doesn’t care what it costs or how much blood I leave, as long as I win. Don’t worry, Cesare. I’m God’s Butcher, I don’t lose.”

“What about you, Anastasia?” Cesare asked. It was a delicate thing being around the two girls. They refused to acknowledge the other even with Cesare talking to them.

“Go back with my mother,” Anastasia said tersely. Maybe she hurting over Jerold or Robert’s visit. Either way, Cesare gave her a light caress across her shoulder to let her know he was there.

No one seemed to notice or care that she stayed withdrawn through class. Elizabeth and Alexandra didn’t care, they weren’t her friends. The only reason they looked after her was because of Cesare. Viktor didn’t care about anyone but himself. Tamlin was the definition of disinterest, patiently waiting for Cesare to put her in the sunlight before starting the lesson.

With a hip toss, Cesare hit the mat hard. Rolling with the fall, his arm buckled under him as he tried to lever himself up, laying him flat on the mat gasping for breath. Tamlin was on point today, working him through his paces with a vengeance. The teacher’s face bore a permanent grimace. Every time he scored against Cesare, the lines of disapproval carved deeper into his weathered face.

“Enough,” Tamlin said quietly when Cesare hadn’t made it back up. Sweat streamed off him, dots of blood expanding across his shirt.

“Sit up,” Tamlin commanded.

Cesare struggled upright with a pained grunt, the movement causing the blooms of blood to expand across his chest. “What are your chances of surviving this school as a human?”

He gave Tamlin a shocked look, cold nausea pooling in his stomach as his eyes shot over to Anastasia. “Don’t worry, she’ll hear what I want her to hear. Answer the question.”

Cesare took his time thinking it over. Tamlin deserved that much. He’d come to this school as healthy as a homeless kid got. He’d arrived with a clean slate; no one knew him or his problems. Granted, he didn’t have any friends but he also didn’t have any enemies. He was invisible to both the powerful and the weak. He should've kept his head down, stay in the deepest shadows where no one cared to look. But he hadn’t done that.

He’d made enemies of the strongest students in the school. Killers of their kind, they were the best and deadliest their races offered. Horrors of the world, they fixed problems by butcher done with giggles and glee. And then he’d spit in the face of the psychopathic teachers that held the leash on the diseased flesh of night's womb.

It didn’t take long for the numbers to add up. “Not good.”

“A snowball’s chance in hell isn’t good. You wish you had that snowball’s chance. You’re crippled meat; it’ll be months before you’re back to normal. And even when you were at your best, you were nothing more than one bad choice away from death.”

“What do you want me to do, give up?” He wasn’t mad, it was a thought that ran through his head at least once an hour. He was working his ass off and barely treading water with his grades. Viktor was pushing him hard enough to make Cesare think he got off on hurting him. Tamlin worked him harder than ever, walking the razor’s edge between teaching and breaking him. That didn’t even count the training he threw himself into with the girls.

He could leave. His bag was ready, all he had to do was walk. There might be other ways to get his diploma, somewhere safer and less likely to leave him in cutlets on the forest floor. He’d already given his pound of flesh. No one would hold it against him if he left, no one except him.

“No,” Tamlin said with implacable power, the room vibrating with his conviction. Rocking back under its power, Cesare eyed the man. Tamlin was teaching him to kill, uncaring of how Cesare would use those skills as long as it kept him alive. But Tamlin didn’t step foot outside these rooms, his part in Cesare’s life was broken into two hour blocks. In this room, Cesare was safe, but once he crossed that threshold he was on his own. Cesare had never given it much thought, just taken the blessing for what it was. But the way that word resonated with feeling made him think Tamlin had a reason.

“No,” Tamlin repeated quietly. “You need to realize the situation's changed, and you need to change with it. You need power.” He held his hand up to stop Cesare. “I know you think you’re doing all you can—training yourself to fight, working your body to the bone, and arming yourself with human toys. Do you think your best is good enough?”

Cesare shook his head, his own words nothing more than a whisper. “No.” It wasn’t just his life on the line. His eyes moved to the crippled girl in the sunlight. He wanted to be there for her, wanted to help her through the war ahead. And not just her, but Alexandra and Elizabeth too.

“There’s a way, but the cost is high.”

Every pusher had the same hustle. Willing to help, as long as you had the green or flesh to pay for it. “What price?”

“Your humanity,” Tamlin said simply.

Cesare blinked in surprise, unsure if he was joking … but Tamlin had the sense of humor of a hungry anaconda. “You can make me Umbrae Lunae?”

“No, despite the legends, you're born Umbrae Lunae or not. You’d be something … different ... something unique, singular in form and function,” Tamlin explained. “But none of that matters if you aren’t willing to give up your humanity.”

“Is that the only price?” Cesare asked carefully. Tamlin had never been there for him, would never be there for him. If it was just his humanity, then he was all in. Being human had never put food on the table or a roof over his head. Power could do both. And it would ensure he could protect those he ...

Tamlin locked eyes with Cesare. “Pain, blood, and your humanity. That’s the price to be more than easy meat.” Cesare slowly nodded. He wasn’t going to just say yes, but he'd listen. “There is a language that only the gods speak. The letters are more than sounds, they are primal beings, immortal and untainted by form. Your prana can bridge the gap between flesh and madness. Electricity by itself doesn't heat your home or set cities alight. But when that power is channeled to the right receptacle, you get light. Sephirothic is like that. In and of itself, it has no place in this reality, but with your prana it can be a source of dominant power.”

“And you think I can use it?” Cesare asked.

“Sephirothic is the language of gods, but the letters exist beyond them. It is anathema to the Umbrae Lunae and poison to Angels. It’s killed everyone that's tried to tame its powers.” Tamlin let the grim statement sink in. “I think you’re different. The letters sucked them dry long before manifesting in this reality.”

“So, I either do it or die trying. Not the greatest odds, and I still don’t know why you think I can do this.”

“It’s because of her.” Tamlin nodded toward Anastasia. “She’s been feeding off you twice a day and here you are, full of energy. You should be bedridden, wasting away as she rips your prana from you. I know you can do this.”

“That makes one of us. Too bad it’s not the one risking his life,” Cesare said dryly.

“It’s a chance, the only chance you have.”

“You said it would cost me my humanity, what do you mean by that?” Cesare quickly added. “I get the pain and blood part.”

“You can't use them until you get through Aleph, the first letter.” Tamlin paused, searching for words to chain concepts too true to be housed in their weak flesh. “The letters aren’t alive as you know it, but neither are they dead. Imagine your prana is like water and Aleph is a creature dying of thirst. Your soul will be carved into a new thing, a horror enslaved to the Sephirothic. Aleph will form this new beast out of the discarded flesh of your humanity, devouring weakness, reforging your pathways into a being dedicated to its need. Your own power will fuel and strengthen the unholy creature birthed by Aleph as it flows to the Sephirothic, allowing Aleph to take its due from your soul.”

Tamlin lowered his voice. “It will change you, on a fundamental beyond flesh or heart. Aleph will reform you into a vessel capable of using its brothers and sisters. Your life will give it the power it needs to enter this reality and change you. That’s why it’s the Gate Keeper, that’s its power.”

“And what will it shape me into?” Cesare asked.

Tamlin shrugged. “I don’t know. None who have tried have succeeded.”

It was more than he wanted or needed. He didn’t need some mystical power that could kill him, all he needed was a safe school. But you never earn fairness and only children complain about it.

It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what was offered. And without something, his next fight with an Umbrae Lunae would be his last. He knew it the same way he knew the sky was blue. Tamlin offered him a devil’s bargain. Power, but at a price beyond paying.

“How?” Cesare asked. He wasn’t accepting the offer ... not yet.

Tamlin answered softly. “Each letter is more than just a letter. It’s a spiritual idea, a state of being, and an immortal entity all in one. Is love just a word or does it exist in a pure form somewhere? Tune your meditations to this symbol.” Dipping his finger in a small pool of sweat soaked blood, Tamlin drew a figure on the mat. It was a single thick, diagonal line with a leaf pointing up at one end and down at the other.

“That's Aleph. Seek it and it will find you. As you search, work on raising the Kundalini.” Tamlin’s face darkened at Cesare’s lost expression. “They should have explained this before you fed her.” Visibly calming himself, Tamlin set his finger into the puddle of blood again. “The subtle body is the template for the physical body, identical except for what they’re made of. Three major arteries exist in the subtle body: the Ida, Pingala, and Shushumna. Female energy, Male energy, and the Divine.”

Tamlin drew a sitting man, the Ida and Pingala twisting and twining up its spine. Another line went straight up the spine. “This is Shushumna, the Path of the Divine. At the bottom lies the Kundalini. Some call it God or Goddess, but we’ll call it your most essential self, the spark of the divine that’s housed in your soul. This is the heart of your energy.” Tamlin paused, letting Cesare take in the diagram drawn in his own blood.

“The Kundalini sleeps. Its dreaming movements make up your prana, but the greater part of its potential is dormant. You must draw the serpent up Shushumna and through the 7 Chakras. Each gate it opens will release more potential into you.”

“I thought you said I had enough energy to do this?” Cesare asked without taking his eyes off the drawing.

“Would you rather have just enough or more than enough?”

“Point,” Cesare acknowledged. “How do I awaken the Kundalini?”

“Focus on the base of your spine. Call to the serpent that dwells there. Talk to the divine spark that lives in you.” Tamlin shrugged. “I don’t know, Cesare. I’m not your divine self. Maybe you should ask yourself what would make you want to help you?” On that note, the man flowed to his feet, walking away as the bell signaled the end of school.

Cesare followed behind Alexandra as they walked through the woods, his eyes resting meditatively on her ass as it moved under the school skirt. Firm and muscled without being flat, it flexed and relaxed in a manner that both relaxed and excited him. Despite the beautiful moving sculpture, his thoughts were far away.

He’d need to adjust his training if he wanted to follow the path set out by Tamlin. This was the best time to start, and maybe that was why Tamlin had waited. Cesare was still healing, he could barely do any Ashtanga Yoga at all. He had to hope that the sparring he did with Alexandra would help make up the difference.

He had the time, but is this what he wanted to spend it on? Because this wasn’t just something to get him through school. This would change everything, all his might be's burned up for a new hand of cards. He’d be trusting that Tamlin wasn’t running a game of his own. And that had never been a safe bet in Cesare’s life.

If he didn’t find some way to get help, he was dead. It wasn’t fair or right, but it was reality. They’d never underestimate him again, he’d pushed that as far as he could. The next time they came for him, they’d come prepared for war and someone would die.

He could leave or take Tamlin’s offer. Looking at Alexandra’s ass as she carried a girl she hated for him, he couldn’t imagine leaving them. He knew exactly what it felt like to be left behind, and the reason never mattered. All that mattered was that they left, that you got up one day, and they were gone.

If he wouldn’t leave them, then he only had two choices. Die on the claws of the next thing that attacked him, or take Tamlin’s offer. On one hand, he was guaranteed a savage death, the other hand was only a maybe. A small, tight smile spread across his face. He’d never been anything but a maybe away from death, so why not toss the bones one more time? He wouldn't lose the only things he’d ever given a damn about.

The decision was made right then as his mind clicked over. Plans unfolded as he assigned times to work on raising the Kundalini and contacting Aleph. It would be tight with his schedule, but he'd make it work.

Setting the wheelchair down, Alexandra stepped away without a word. Cesare pulled out the recorder and headphones. She stopped him as he tried to place the headphones on her head.

“As my escort, you’re ...” Anastasia hesitated. “Supposed to kiss me goodbye.” The words came out in a rush of anxiety.

Alexandra stalked away to their usual sparring area with long, angry strides. Cesare looked down at the fragile girl before him. This wasn’t about him. He couldn’t make this about him, because he’d have leapt at the chance to kiss her. No, he had to look at how this would affect her.

Would it be better to deny her, to force her to rely on herself? Or should he give her what she needed? Because that’s what it was, a need as strong as her body’s need for food. Watching him with hollow eye sockets, she was begging for a kiss. She wanted to know someone wanted her, needed to know someone was still there for her. Or maybe, just maybe, she needed proof that he still wanted her.

Her torn lips felt ragged against his, the rough edge of her plastic mask sharp against his mouth. It was a simple, gentle kiss imbued with all the caring he felt for her. He wouldn’t make her beg for a kiss again. He wouldn’t ever make her beg for the simple pleasure of knowing he still wanted her, still needed her with everything in his soul.

Pulling back, his breath washed over her face. It was the only way she could know that he was face to face with her, that he hadn’t just kissed her and pulled away in disgust. “Better?” The word was no more than a whisper but held more than words.

Her lips twitched into a mangled smile. “Yes, but you need practice.”

“Well, we can work on that together.” Cesare carefully placed the headphones on her head.

Alexandra watched him approach. She hadn’t taken her stance yet, which meant she wanted to talk. Anger had shredded her humanity, letting her truth shine. Her emaciated face was a ghastly picture of starvation, her cheek bones sharp as razors, needle pointed fangs peeking out from her lips.

Cesare never forgot that in a world of monsters, she was an apex predator. He accepted that part of her and wouldn’t treat her differently because of it. If she could accept him as a worthless kid playing at having friends, then he could accept her as a psychopathic killer.

“She won’t stay. She’s only using you.” The words came quick and furious, sharpened on the whetstone of spite.

“I know.” His words rocked her back in shock. “When you’re tossed into the sea, you’ll grab anything to keep from drowning, no matter how ugly or malformed it is. But once you get back to safety, you don’t hold on to that bit of garbage. You cast it aside as the worthless nothing it is. That’s all I am to her, just something to hold on to in a storm.”

Shocked, Alexandra lost her anger and with it the vampire retreated, humanity slowly washing into the void where truth had breathed. Her flesh filled out, the fangs retreating into her mouth. She was beautiful, no matter her form, but he preferred the truth to the lie. “Then, why?” She asked, puzzled.

“This isn’t reality, not yours or mine, and certainly not hers. This is high school, just a bubble of fantasy life. When it’s over, you’ll go back to your Order and your crusade. You’ll climb the ladder of power and become the legend you were born to be, the kind of person others look up to and admire—all castles, blood, and death. She’ll go back to wealth and privilege, owning the corridors of power. And I'll return to the streets.”

Alexandra opened her mouth as Cesare waited. She finally closed it with a shake of her head, unable to find the words. Cesare continued into the silence, “I can’t be anything but an embarrassment for either of you. So, whether it’s tomorrow or when we graduate, this will die under your knives. But, I’ll pay my pound of flesh to ride the roller coaster knowing it ends in pain. The scars I get along the way are just part of the price.” Cesare shrugged. “It’s better than where I was.”

Alexandra opened her mouth. What could she say? That it wouldn’t happen? That she’d always be there for him? That she cared for and wanted him? That sometimes she found herself lost in dreams that she had no right having? It was all true, but he was right. All of that only existed here, in this fey time away from reality. What would she do when she graduated?

She struggled desperately to think of some way he could fit into her world … and found nothing. Now she saw why he took things the way he did, because he’d known this was only a break from their real lives. In the long run, none of them would be a long-term thing. Why did that hurt so damn much?

Cesare watched it play across her face, the painful realizations he’d known from the beginning. Giving him a sad nod, she flowed into her stance. They wouldn’t have a lifetime of tomorrows; all they had was today. He’d known it from the beginning, and now she did too. Following her example, he took his stance.

The moment came together for him. His emotions draining away as the warm calm pushed them out. This wasn’t the time to worry about the future. This moment only had room for the now. Gliding forward, a low kick unfurled from his side, controlled and easy. She took the opening, closing the distance once it had passed.

They didn’t need words. They had more than that. They danced together, shifting between punches and kicks thrown with calculated force. Power, always carefully controlled. They would never have the future, but they could have the moment. This was a simple time when the lies and pressures of life loosened their barbed hooks from their flesh.

They parted hours later, the small tone of his alarm sounding in the cold silence. Breathing hard, Cesare watched Alexandra. She stood perfectly poised without a single hair out of place, lacking even a trace of sweat to make her anything less than an abomination of slaughter.

This is what it meant to be beyond human, perfect in form and function. She would never grow old, never weaken with age. She’d always be this strong. She was a perfect blade forged in the hearts blood of countless enemies that had fallen under her blade. Yes, she was psychotic, but she was also gorgeous, completely untamable in her wildness.

“You’re beautiful.” Filled with raw admiration and desire, the words were painful in their simplicity.

How many times had she heard that? How many times had some love-struck idiot said that to her? She was so much more than him, power given physical form. She was as different from him as a Muramasa Sword is from a catalog katana. And as beyond him.

He turned away quickly, wishing he hadn’t seen her look down as heat flushed her cheeks. He’d worked hard to earn her acceptance, and with one comment he’d proven he was like every boy. Unable to see her for something beyond her looks. He valued her opinion too much to let his heart ruin it.

He derailed the thought as he walked away. Crouching down, he slipped the headphones from Anastasia’s head. “How was it, princess?” Cesare asked.

“Good,” Anastasia said, holding her wrapped arms out to him. Smiling, Cesare helped her out of the chair and led her over to the firing range of dummies.

He hesitated before moving flush against her body, still unused to the new closeness she craved. His hands found her hips. “You know I don’t want them there. Do I have to move them?” Anastasia pushed teasingly back into him, enjoying his reaction to her.

This was always the part that made him nervous. He was fine with holding her hips, it was intimate bordering on sexual. But she wanted more, she wanted the sexual. He inched his hands down, tracing along her hips as the skirt tightened under his palms. He stopped when his fingers were inches from her core.

She sighed, her voice nothing more than a tortured whisper. “Do you hate it that much?”

“No, I like it that much.” He did. Gods, how he loved having her like this, as if she were his and he could claim her with every intimate touch, could show the world that she wanted him.

“I want you to touch me,” Anastasia said.

“Why?” Cesare needed the answer so badly it hurt to even ask. He couldn’t see why she’d crave his touch, no one else had.

“Because I only feel safe in your arms. Because every time you touch me, I know I have someone who cares for me. I love your touch because I know you care. Because it makes me believe you’ll never leave,” she said softly. Reaching down, she placed her bandaged hands over his. “And I want you to touch me like this because it’s something I only share with you.”

Cesare took a deep breath as they both pulled back from that raw truth. Letting it out slowly, his breath ghosted across her mutilated flesh. He felt the edge of something important, a decision that couldn’t be unmade. A turning point in his life if he had the courage to chance the disfiguring pain.

She already had so much of him. Every piece he gave was another barbed hook he placed into his own flesh, a modern Sun Dance that left him bleeding, waiting for her to walk away and rip them out. It wasn’t a matter of if she’d hurt him, only how much.

He made his decision. His hands settled in their new place even closer to her intimacy, pulling her hard against him. There was no way anyone would mistake this for anything but sexual, a raw claiming of a woman and her claiming of him in return. His voice was blood drenched knives, a lover’s rejection in the rain, the blackened teeth of starving children. “You’ll kill me when you leave.”

She cuddled back against him, his fingers brushing against her intimacy. Jagged bolts of desire danced through him with every touch. Anastasia’s words pierced the cold. “And what if I don’t leave?”

“You will, and you’ll tear me apart when you do. When you leave, you’ll take the best parts of me with you.” The words were hardened with cold finality before he gentled his voice. “Call the flame, princess.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to argue with him, to fight his conviction, but she had nothing to fight with. She’d broken him and left him in the dirt as the nothing she thought he was. She’d bled him and laughed at his pain. When he’d needed a friend to help him, she had better things to do. And finally, she’d betrayed him in the worst way. After all he’d given her, she’d betrayed him. Her mouth shut quietly on all the useless words. All she had was the heat mirage that was the future; every day was one more day she could prove herself to him, prove that she wouldn’t cut and run, that she was worth depending on.

Instead of answering, she called the flame. Baneful and necrotic, it tore into the air. It shot up to three feet before she stopped it, matching her will against its desire. Cesare could see the difference in the flame now. It was the difference between a knife made of plastic and a shining steel blade, a toy for children, and a weapon of war. Her flame was transformed into a monstrous thing of malice, so far beyond what she’d had that they could only be compared by degrees of lethality.

“Sharpen its hunger.” They’d been trying to do this for days with no success, but tonight he had an idea. “Feel the hunger as it thirsts for destruction. Feel its ravenous need to consume. Feel the fire’s desire to be set free. Compress that need, hone and use it.”

Cesare could feel Anastasia straining to do what he was guiding her through. After a few minutes, she let out a defeated sigh. “I can’t … it … just doesn’t work.”

“Relax.” The word soothed over the ragged edges of her frustration. Anastasia slowly straightened as the flame steadied before her. “Think of your needs. What do you want? What desire do you hold deep inside that twists and leaps in your thoughts? What wouldn’t you do to satisfy your need? Imagine the blood and the dead at your feet, obstacles falling as you kill your way to your need.” The black flames darkened, shining with malignant power.

“Can you feel it?” Cesare’s breath moved over her ravaged flesh.

“Yes.” Her answer was quiet and sure, with an undercurrent of sadistic hunger.

“Do you want it?” Cesare asked, the very words sharpening her desire.

“Yes.” The hiss shredded the air with blood-soaked need.

“The flame is you. It is your needs given form. Push it into the flame. Take it all and push it into the flame, let it ravage the world that denies you.” Cesare’s voice was no more than a ghost of a whisper.

The Ebon Flame shone, radiating a cruel and brutal pleasure. “Delve into yourself and feel the change.” It was only a start, but now that he knew how to get her to this point, he could work on making it second nature to her.

---

First in my heart, I give thanks to, JustSomePug, BelBlade, and Creep. Your grace is the shadow I hid under from the suns killing heat. From your darkness do I birth my cruel monsters and tales of midnight glory. My thanks are paltry as rotting meat from an old kill, but I offer them as the best I can. While my fur may be mangy and crusted with the petty deaths of the meat I take, my heart beats loyal blood.

My thanks go to...

Lord of Knowledge, Walker of Worlds both Fey and Grotesque, Shadow of Thoth, Youdontneedtoknow

Elder to New Born Sins, Midnights Blessed Blade, Walker of the Grey of the Real, Xriter

King of Ends, Skinner of the Now, He Whose Blade Snips Lives Tether, Sayanora.

Keeper of the Past, Seer of the Future, Owner of the Keys of Knowing, Soundion

My Brother, My Best Friend, The One Man Who Has Bleed For Me, BelBlade

Chapter 41 is the end of Book 1.