Sunday September 21st 2014

It was still early, darkness holding the land with skeletal fingers. The night had birthed the horrors that stalked his memories, but it had also blessed him with the security the light had denied him. Crossing the campus, he looked out across the silent place with a peace he never found in the day. Skirting around the monstrosity that was the girl's dorm, he slid into the edge of the forest.

Alexandra appeared after an hour of waiting. A vision of purity in a plain cotton robe of blinding, unadorned white, she seared the holy darkness with her light. Nestled between her breasts, her silver necklace hung from around her neck, the sword cross incandescent with the first rays of the sun. Her long, shining blond hair was undone, flowing down her back in waves of gold.

The beacon called to him as hard as hope in the wolf's hour. Every night between three and four the wolf bays at the door, bringing insanity and death with it. When you tangle with the wolf, when depression turns the gun into your only friend, hopes the only hand holding you back.

Alexandra stopped, eyes piercing the shadows and bushes with trained ease. Their eyes met over the distance, neither talking nor moving. She gave him a slow nod before continuing into the forest, bare feet silent on the loam.

The forest's cover would cut both ways, but only one side would win its favor. He needed a position just inside the forest, leaving the open field as a killing zone. He pulled things out of his pack as ideas crystalized. It would be tight time-wise, but he could just make it ... hopefully.

Cesare was settling in when they came into sight. Life was a cold-eyed bitch. Just his luck, it was Sampson and four of his dogs. Even on the weekends, they wore their school uniforms; dress shoes shining black and sharp, white shirts starched and ironed, short cut hair spiked close to the skull. Walking in loose a formation, their eyes tracked across the ground, each member owning their line of sight. This wasn’t a prank, it was a mission.

Cesare’s hands ran over the plastic bags tied to the branch he was sitting on. Barely fist sized, their payload of black balloons were just big enough to be accurate. The plump ball arced through the air, exploding in a rain of anal slurry over Sampson.

“Fuck!” Sampson screamed before doubling over, body convulsing as vomit hit the ground. Cerberus scattered, faces twisted with disgust. The next balloon was already in the air, impacting another would-be attacker, coloring him in brown tinted water. They broke, each boy out for himself as fear hammered them.

One more got nailed before Sampson started yelling. “Back! Get out of range!” The command transformed them from scared kids to a trained unit backing out of Cesare's firing range. Sampson scanned the forest, streaks of brown water dripping from his face. The boy's eyes narrowed on catching sight of Cesare.

Splitting the group, Sampson sent a boy right and left to enter the forest beyond Cesare’s sight. Sampson led the leftovers toward the forest with balanced steps.

The two scouts would come up behind Cesare on either side, hopefully distracting him long enough to cover a charge by the big guns. What Sampson didn’t know was there was no way his scouts would reach him.

Only minutes passed before screams of agony speared the air from the right. Sampson jerked back in surprise. At the second scream, he took an involuntary step forward before going still. There was still hope that the second scout would make it through. Pain filled screams rent the air from the left, falling into stereo with those on the right.

Roaring in rage, Sampson lost it. He charged across the grass; the others falling into step with him. Most ambushes failed because they were too close. The ideal range is between middle and the edge of your weapon. Always lead with the big gun, hit hard, kill everyone and fade away. An ambush isn’t a fight, it’s a slaughter. Before they hit the woods, he’d tagged each of them at least once and some twice. Charging through it, they endured his withering volley of anal slurry balloons.

Three feet into the woods, they hit the traps. Strung around and between trees, the fishing line was invisible until it bit flesh, taking legs out from under them. Screams dominated the air, kids hitting the beds of sharp rocks he’d laid out for them.

Cesare continued the hail of balloons, each hit punctuated by a rage filled roar of hate. Ten feet in, Sampson slammed his back to a tree. “Fucking take cover! Take fucking cover!” Their skin and clothes were brown with watery shit, cut hands bleeding, faces sliced open from traps that only got deadlier the closer they came to Cesare. Heaving, the boys gave up their breakfast to the woods, convulsions wracking bodies long since run dry.

Hiding behind trees, they tried to use their own weapons. Reaching into garbage bags, they threw handfuls of their own shit. Packed into balls, the shit disintegrated in the air, spraying in front of them. Shit’s mostly water. If you want to use it as a weapon, it’s better to add water and turn it into a fluid ... then you can make water balloons.

Furious whispers shot between the three. The screams from the scouts had died out, leaving whimpers of pain. Anal slurry dripped from their hair, tainting faces brown, staining lips, their own hands caked in shit, they were beaten.

Sampson wasn’t stupid. Cesare had the high ground, a defensible position, and traps set. He was down two fifths of his army and wasn’t any closer to his goal. His weapon wasn’t working the way he’d thought it would, and his men were thinking of deserting. Better to lead the retreat and keep power than be left behind and lose everything.

“You think you’ve won! We sleep in the same place, fucker!” Hatred saturated the words, making them more than a threat.

Cesare yelled back. “And your little dog, too!”

Breaking off the attack, they waded into the forest in search of their scouts. Even going slow, the morning's quiet was broken by their cries of pain and cursing as they tripped the traps. It was more than an hour later before Cesare watched the five kids limp out of the forest; bloody, bruised, and covered in dry shit. Sampson was right, this wasn’t over.

Cesare cleaned up the traps and fishing line. The used material was wasted, there was nothing to salvage with most going into the garbage bags with the rest of the balloons.

Cesare was double bagging the shit when she walked up on cat quiet feet. “You make enemies the way a dog attracts ticks,” Alexandra said from behind him.

The white robe shone with a purity that hurt the eye, her golden hair incandescent with the sun's grace. “It's not the ticks you have to worry about. Fleas, now they're a pain in the ass.”

Unsure if it was a joke, Alexandra gestured at the field. “Where did you learn this?”

“Not a lot of places to set up camp in a city. If you want to have anything more than what you can carry, you gotta find some land in the discarded bits. It can be as good as being homeless gets with a fire to cook on and a place to hide. But there’s always someone looking to take what you got, ass, money, food, it doesn’t matter what it is. You get good at setting traps or you get good at bleeding.” Each word was a cut across the air, cold and sharp, they painted a picture no one wanted to see.

“I can protect myself.” It was a race car driver telling a chauffeur he could drive his own car just fine.

“And what would you have done? If you'd come out of your communion with God, pure and at peace, free in a way you only feel under his love and been pelted by shit?” Alexandra’s face darkened, flesh withering and shrinking, eyes hardening into insane agates of green death. “Exactly. And you’d be out on your ass within the day.”

“It would be righteous,” Alexandra said.

Cesare slipped the strap of his duffel bag onto his back. “No one cares. They never have and they won't start for you. Besides, you don’t strike me as thou shalt not kill type.”

Alexandra shook her head. “No. My order was created to kill … founded by Constantine the Great, the bishops of the era, and my father; Vlad Tepes Dracul. The Order of the Dragon was given the charge to protect the Body of Christ. We stain our souls to keep the Body of Christ pure, knowing our sins bar our way into heaven. I would have killed them for the dishonor.”

“Lucky I was in the neighborhood then,” Cesare said, walking away from the vampire.

Falling into step with him, she eyed the field. “Why don't you hate Christians? Nobody else would try to protect the scared in this ruin of sin. And yet, you did.” She studied him carefully. “And I know it's not because you’re human. A lot of humans would have enjoyed seeing me covered in shit.”

He’d have thought she’d ask why he didn't hate vampires, but she didn't. It was all about her god. “I guess I'm nobody.” Cesare meant it to be a joke, but it came out bitter with a jagged edge.

“I didn't mean it that way,” Alexandra said simply.

“I know. But it’s what I am. An outsider, even to other outsiders. It would be nice to fit in, but that's not my role. Maybe I'm meant for this … being able to do what others can't because I don't have anything to lose.”

“A swan among ducks isn't an outsider, just in the wrong place.” Alexandra's smile lit her face, making it hard to look at her without staring.

Cesare forced himself to look away. “Back to your question. Most food banks and homeless shelters are run by Christians. If I had a safe place to sleep or a decent meal, it was because of a Christian. Some got mad because they pushed the God talk but I didn't care, you can't eat anger. I'd listen all day and pray all night as long as I got fed.”

“Did you pray honestly?” She asked with a sharp look.

“I prayed often and hard. If I got a place to sleep, I prayed that I’d be able to stay and thanked your god for the bed. I gave thanks for every meal with the fervent need only the starving know. No one’s more religious than a starving man on the street. I never faked it, if that’s what you’re wondering. I went to sleep with a prayer on my lips and woke with it as my first breath. I prayed for help, and when it came, I gave thanks. What I prayed for most was someone to save me, but no one came. Many helped, but no one saved me.” He’d spent years hoping for that one grace. Then he woke up one day and realized they weren’t coming because he was where he belonged. Garbage goes into the can, diamonds are fitted for rings, we all have our place.

“You blame God,” Alexandra wasn’t judging, not yet at least.

Cesare ran a hand through his hair. “That's tricky. I don't know.”

“A fair answer. How do you feel about the Body of Christ?” Alexandra asked.

“I won't say I agree with the bible or what you Christians do, but I won't judge you and yours. Your religion’s done me a lot of good turns when I needed it and I like to pay my debts. That's part of why I helped you.” Alexandra watched him expectantly. “No one can say Christians aren't strong. You've conquered most of the world with your religion. How many wars never happened because of Christendom's rise? It may not be world peace, but it comes damn close. Does it matter if you’re right or wrong?”

“It does to me.” Quiet conviction filled her voice.

Cesare nodded. “It would. But all I see are the conflicts you stopped, the wars you prevented, the people who lived. Does it matter that they lost their religion? Their children were alive and had food to eat. Because of you, they’d live in an era where lying, cheating, murder, assault, and adultery were condemned by church and state. Their children would be better off for the conversion no matter how much it mutilated the parents.”

“We could have left them alone.” There was no way she believed that. It was the mandate of Christians to conquer.

“Other religions did that. They shored up their bases and hoped it would preserve their way of life. You could have done the same. The pagan religions would have lived longer, that's for sure. And they would have been isolated groups, ripe to be attacked and raped for their resources. One thing your conquering did was make them part of something bigger, something stronger. The wars of the past were fueled by a splintered world, Christianity changed that. Maybe it wasn’t the banner they wanted, but life doesn’t offer choices, it picks up the knife and cuts.”

“A good series of facts, and you can no doubt come up with more, but how do you feel toward Christians?” She pushed.

“Grateful.” Alexandra smiled, she was an amazingly beautiful girl. It was the raw, physical beauty of strength, a muscled glory taken to the edge of flesh, a vibrant vitality that shone from her skin.

“You said that was only part of the reason you helped me. What was the rest?” Alexandra asked.

He didn’t want to get into this. It would only hurt her, and he’d come here to prevent her from getting hurt, not to do it himself. Cesare sighed in defeat. “You don't have friends.”

“My friends …” Alexandra started.

He cut her off, his voice harder than he wanted it to be. “They'll betray you, just like they did today. How do you think they found you here? How many people knew where you pray and when?” Alexandra looked oddly untouched by his words. His life was betrayal, trust only ever a fading lie on the lips of pimps and users, but he didn't want that truth for her. “I know what it's like not to have anyone. If you need me, I'll be there.” It was a promise made to someone he had no reason to trust or like.

The Serpens Lacum was quiet … too quiet. Tension wound through the air, shadows jumping with fury, rage a taste along the tongue. The well of hatred they had for Alexandra and the shame he’d burned into their bones would demand vengeance.

The door to his room squeaked open behind him, a bare hour after he'd come back to nothing. Cesare turned, knife sliding into his hand while his feet whispered over the floor, grounding him.

Greg and Sampson watched him from the doorway. “Lets be calm. Sampson just wants to talk.” They waited for Cesare’s nod before walking into the room, Sampson closing the door with a click.

“You fucked me,” Sampson said.

“You fucked yourself by not testing your weapon or knowing the ground you were fighting on. You bent over and dropped your pants asking to get fucked,” Cesare said.

Sampson nodded with a grimace. “That’s twice you’ve protected the bitch. That’s why I wanted to talk.” He gestured at Cesare’s roommate. “Greg’s told me a little about you. Your damnati, I figure you don’t know how things work in our society.”

Taking a seat on Greg’s bed, Sampson leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “When the war broke out between the Umbrae Lunae and the Christians, we were winning. They were small and fragile, and we ruled the night. Then the Order of the Dragon came. Disciplined and trained, they butchered us. We begged them to stop, to stand aside. We fought, and they won. As Christianity spread, the Order followed, protecting the night for their precious humans. They’ve held to no treaty. They’ve offered no quarter.”

“I don’t see how this is my problem.” The knife made a quiet click as it snapped out, hidden by the turn of his body.

“It’s every Umbrae Lunae’s problem. If there’s one thing we should have learned from the humans, it’s that the lone wolf goes under the hooves of the elk. You see a quick fuck, I see her a creature that will kill thousands of my brothers and sisters,” Sampson said.

“And getting her expelled will save those people?” Cesare asked.

“Yes, and no. She’s here to scout Primrose for an attack. We can’t kill her, but we can make sure they don’t get the intel they need to kill our friends. Getting her expelled will make sure of that,” Sampson said.

“You'd die to get her expelled?” Cesare asked.

“If you’re not willing to die for your beliefs, then you don’t really believe in them. The plan was that once she lost it, we'd scatter. She might have caught a few of us but some would’ve escaped.” Standing, he looked down on Cesare. “You’re either on our side or hers. There’s no middle ground.”

Greg had set up the meeting, not for Cesare, but to buy favors from Samson. Greg was out for number one. As long as you kept that in mind, you'd be okay. Forgetting that would be when Greg owned your soul.

Greg closed the door and leaned firmly against it. “When they came back, it was like something out of a movie. Everyone wanted to know what happened, it went bad once they found out what you'd done. Sampson got them under control, told them it was between Cerberus and you. They would deal with anyone sticking their noses in it. What did they think would happen if they tore you to pieces? That the Mistress would pat them on the back and tell them they did good?” Terror threaded Greg’s eyes. “She'd kill them, every last one. You don't shit in her backyard.”

“It got away from them … pushing further was sure death. Sampson couldn’t afford that,” Cesare said.

“He’s a smart one, when he can get past his feelings,” Greg said knowingly.

“You know him?” Cesare asked, slipping his bag on his shoulder as he prepared to leave.

Greg laughed quietly. “So do you. He was the fighter at the Sanguine Nativitate that turned a man into bloody hamburger. He's also the First Palus for his discipline.” Outstanding.

Hours later Elizabeth walked in while Cesare was finishing the back tiles in the cottage. “Decided to wake up early?” Elizabeth asked

He sighed as he dumped the bucket in the industrial sink. “I heard some guys talking last night. They planned to ambush Alexandra while she was praying, so I stopped them.”

“Cesare, she's a vampire. You get that? A vampire. She doesn't need your protection. Especially Alexandra fucking Dracul! You can't keep doing this, Cesare. You can't save everyone; hell, you can't even save yourself most days.” Her hands tightened into fists at the last word. It was hard to see your only friend beaten, bled, and mutilated a day at a time.

“I won't stand aside. Everyone stood aside when I needed help. I won't be like them,” Cesare said.

“And what happens when you're gone? What happens when you push someone too far and they put you in the ground? What happens to us, the ones you leave behind?” Elizabeth said ruthlessly.

Alone in the middle of the room, Elizabeth stared at the ground, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Cesare crossed the wasteland between them, arms sliding tentatively around her before pulling her into a hug. Stiff and uncertain, her arms hung rigidly straight. She broke all at once, arms snaking around him with desperate strength. She was a little shorter than him, just enough to put her head on his neck. The scent of lavender swirled around him.

“I'm not going anywhere.” It felt good to have this, even if it would cripple him when she ripped it away. For the moment, he had someone … could pretend that she cared for him like he did her. “But I can't stand by and let them do these things. I wouldn't be the person you deserve if I did.”

“You don't think anything of your life but ... I do.” Elizabeth’s warm breath ghosted across his flesh, leaving goose bumps in its wake. She stepped back, breaking the moment, face shuttered with walls he couldn’t see behind.

“Ready to set up a lab?” Cesare moved them beyond the awkward moment.

Elizabeth smiled in relief at the save, giving the area a once over. “Since you’ve already got the backsplash and fume hood up, yeah.”

Setting up the glass shelves, Elizabeth watched him pull out metal and plastic containers. “What are those for?”

“I can't flush the castoffs down the drain, it would poison the water. These are storage bins for the waste from the distillations.”

An eyebrow snapped up at the words. “I didn’t think you’d be handling anything that … toxic. Is it dangerous?”

“Very,” he said, working on the autoclave.

“Is this necessary?” He raised his head to meet her eyes from across the few feet that separated them.

“This is all I have. The Thagirion won't stop coming. If I want to be safe, it's up to me to make it happen. I'm not strong. I'm not fast. I might be learning to fight but I'm not there yet.”

“You could do what they want. It's what everyone else does. Toe the line and keep your head down. Stop trying to be a hero and do what you're told.” Elizabeth held his eyes. They both knew that meant leaving Elizabeth.

“There’s no way I'm leaving you. Not now. Not ever.” Only when her shoulders relaxed did he see how much tension she’d been holding.

“You’re set on this?” Elizabeth asked with a strange mix of hope and resignation.

“I won't let you go.” The next words were a gamble, but they felt too right to turn away from. “You’re the only person who wants to be with me without wanting something. I won’t let them take that from me.”

She didn’t see him as a man. But he wanted her to know what she’d get if she ever did … commitment. When you have nothing and no one for long enough, it changes you. Normal people judge women based on looks, interests, family, backgrounds, love, humor. But when you have no one for long enough, you only care about two things; loyalty and commitment. No one’s perfect, but most people fall into two categories; those who stay and those who don't.

Elizabeth broke their locked eyes. “You never give up, do you?”

“On you?” His voice hardened. “Never.”

“Be careful, you’re sounding like a stalker.” Elizabeth warned.

“Naw. If I were a stalker, I would have a pair of your panties.”

“You mean you don't?” Elizabeth laughed.