Wednesday October 1st 2014

Spreading the spare blanket from under his bed across the floor, Cesare created a kingdom of only a few feet. His mind cleared as he stepped onto the blanket. He was no longer in the room with Greg, cold stones searing his feet. He was in a separate world made of body and thought. Muscles flowed from posture to posture, warming in the cold air. Strength and heat swirled from his core, pushing out in threads as sweat slicked his skin.

This time had become a refuge for him, moments set aside from the pressure of a school hunting his pain. Here, the demons of self-doubt and hate became friends, gliding through the stygian waters of his mind. Nightmares that plagued and tortured disappeared into the depths, felt only as they passed him, their love a cruel comfort.

He eased out of the Corpse Pose and set his watch for an hour. His breathing shifted from the fiery Ujjayi breathing into the soft, deep breaths necessary for meditation. In through the nose to a count of five and out through the mouth to the same count, balance where struggle had lived. The calmness that Cesare felt after yoga deepened with each breath.

Thoughts came and went, pebbles falling into an obsidian waters, dark depths swallowing them with greedy hunger. Only the ocean remained. His relationship with Elizabeth. Anastasia's training. Alexandra’s rejection. His schoolwork. All these and more dropped from unknown places, sending ripples across the surface, dying in the stygian waters.

The peace held as he sat down for breakfast. Taking a well-worn book out of his bag, he gave the room a careful look. Only a few other early risers were in the cafeteria, the same faces he always saw when darkness ruled the campus. Failures at love and friends, weak in flesh and prey for the strong, they were united in being worthless to everyone but themselves.

Tension turned the razored the air as the wolves walked in. Students hunched down over their books, hoping they weren't on the menu. The wolves weren't early risers, being neither failures nor weak. They didn't belong in the group of cast offs, unless they were hungry.

Their eyes locked onto Cesare. Splitting apart, the pack moved to surround the table. Cesare stood as a wolf came in from either end of the table.

The cold handle of his knife fell into his hand, the trigger making a small click as the blade snapped open. His other hand stood loose and ready either to grab for his gun, or to block. The pack stopped a few feet from him, bodies liquid with feral hunger, instincts pushing against sanity. They wanted to hurt him, needed to bleed him, to break and devour. The only thing holding them back was the sure knowledge they'd be annihilated for doing it.

The wolf's lips pulled back in a snarling grimace. “We're watching you.”

He could probably take them … if they didn't change. If they changed, he was fucked. But that wasn’t what held his mouth shut. He was racking up enemies at a breakneck speed and this felt like a trap.

They waited for him to say something. When nothing came, the one talking swaggered forward. It crossed an imaginary boundary—stepping into the butcher's yard. Cesare centered his balance, feet sliding into place. Deadly power filled him as he settled into his stance. The wolf stilled at subtle shift before taking a slow step back, eyes trained on Cesare.

With a clatter, his tray went spinning onto the ground, throwing food across the floor. Laughing, the wolves on the opposite side of the table high fived each other. Point made, the pack left the room laughing through savage grins.

He sighed at the mass of food spread across the table, bench, and floor. A lunch lady was already on her way over with a mop and bucket. Cesare took the tools from her. “I got it. It was my food.”

The woman looked at him uncertainly. “Are you sure?” Her eyes drifted to the lunch line. Groups of kids were coming in and they needed all hands on deck if they wanted to get through the rush.

“Yep.” Nodding her thanks, she headed back to the line.

Sensing weakness, the students passing by called out to Cesare. “Glad you found your place.”

Others piled on with their own comments. Cesare watched Anastasia walk away from the crowd that had formed. She’d made it clear his life wasn’t her problem. Alexandra met his eyes briefly before turning back to her friends. They had their reasons, but he wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. How many times could he keep helping them before he decided being a chump was too much trouble?

After putting the bucket back in the closet, he left the shooting gallery the cafeteria had turned into. The school had seemed like a fresh start only a month ago but, like everything, it had rotted with time.

Turning the corner to his homeroom, he glimpsed Elizabeth and Viktor talking in front of her classroom. Without thinking, Cesare quietly stepped back around the corner, where he could listen in.

“… Yeah, but you didn't tell me why.” Viktor's voice was low and dangerous.

“And I don't have to. A month of dating doesn’t give you the right to demand anything from me,” Elizabeth said softly.

“I thought we had some good times, then you end it without a word why. Don't you think you owe me an explanation?”

“No. We went out for a month and let’s be clear, all you wanted was to get into my pants. I don't appreciate you coming here acting like a kicked puppy. You knew the score. You’re upset you're not the one calling it off. And that you didn't bag me.”

Viktor laughed. “You’re right. I'm sorry I didn't bag you. And you’re also right that I like to be the one to walk. You still won't tell me why?”

“Nothing you've said has changed my mind.”

“Okay, okay … but you don't know what you're missing. I could have set your world on fire. Once a woman gets a taste, they never want to leave,” Viktor said.

Cesare could almost hear the eye roll in Elizabeth's voice. “Oh, I know what I'm missing. Nine inches with a lot of girth, and if the gossip's true, you know how to use it too. How many married women have you slept with?”

“None that I knew were married.” There was an edge to Viktor’s voice.

“You attract women the way a graveyard does ghouls. I'm sure you’re great in bed, but I want more than a good lay. After thirty minutes or an hour, what then? Do I sit there and stroke your ego?”

“Hey, I'll have you know I can go all night.” Now it was Cesare who rolled his eyes.

“Great, you can go all night. What the hell do I care? I’d like to walk the next day. You know: go to my job, have lunch without wincing, talk to my students while sitting. No matter how good or how long you can go, it doesn't mean anything. It's not love or the basis of a relationship,” Elizabeth explained.

“No, but it helps,” Viktor interjected.

“Your right, it does. The women who come to you? That's all they want … a great fuck. Even the ones in love with you. How many of them would watch endless MMA fights and talk boxing with you? How many of them would fake it just to hold onto you? I'm sure you’re great in bed, but I don't watch MMA or go to boxing matches. I want someone who likes to garden and talk about plants.”

“The only time I've ever had a woman walk away was when she'd found someone else,” Viktor pushed.

“You wanted a reason. I gave you one.” The dismissal was clear, closely followed by the sound of Viktor's steps fading into the distance.

When Cesare walked in, Elizabeth had her back to him as she looked out the windows, arms wrapped around herself. He'd been there, when you hugged yourself because you didn't rate a hug from anyone else. The click of the door closing behind him filled the room. “You heard?” she asked without turning.

“Yes. Why’d you break up with him?”

“Would you believe it had nothing to do with you?”

“I’d believe anything you told me,” Cesare said simply.

She sighed, arms falling in defeat. “It was the picnic. I was sitting there talking with you, and I realized I couldn’t think of being there with anyone else. Didn’t want to be there with anyone else.” Shaking her head, she picked over the landmine of her words. “I don’t have any … romantic … feelings for you, Cesare. But I treasure the time we spend together. It’s not fair to date a man who doesn’t make me feel that way. It’s just a waste of time for both of us.”

Turning away from the window, she faced him. “It doesn’t change our friendship, Cesare.”

Maybe it didn’t for her, but that sickly hope he’d buried in the swamp of lost dreams pushed the sludge aside like mud. Mewling and crawling with short stubby arms, mud and foulness dripping from it, the thing fought its way out of the mire. Like a zombie, it wouldn’t stay down. Shoot it, beat it, strangle it … but the Rasputin-like hope wouldn’t stay down. She didn’t find him attractive, and he couldn’t blame her. He was thin to the point of emaciation, with haphazardly cut muddy brown hair, clothed in cast-off rags. He didn’t want him, so why should anyone else.

Cesare nodded in agreement. “Of course.” Breaking up with Viktor meant nothing … today. But it might mean everything later.

Tamlin sat down in front of him, legs folding under his body with boneless grace. The day had left Cesare light and happy. Tomorrow, Elizabeth would change her mind and he’d lose even the friendship he loved. But until then, he’d break the bones of life and suck the marrow, and revel in a meal that didn’t have him on the menu.

“Tell me what makes a person weak, deadly, and lethal?” Tamlin asked.

“The mind.”

A small, tight smile graced Tamlin's face. “You’re right. All creatures are deadly; all being’s can deal death. You make weapons of war from common items. Anyone could read how to do the same, the only difference is that you dare to do it. That desire to harm others, to protect yourself, even the need to kill, is what makes you deadly. What’s the next step beyond deadly and into the realm of lethal, a predator that frightens even monsters?”

Power. It always comes down to power. People think it’s strength, money, or weapons that make you powerful. They need to believe the lie, it’s the only way to excuse their weakness. Power is the birthright of the savage, a glory discarded by the lying eyes of the civilized.

The willingness to use a weapon, to kill with deliberate intent, is the difference between sheep and wolf. Words are weapons used with the same ruthlessness as steel. They slice into the meat of the mind, bleeding the weak, carving your dominance into their heart.

Life is war. There are winners and losers in every battle, it didn’t matter if knives or words were used. Losers balk at the edge of winning, unwilling to etch their supremacy into their victim’s flesh. They know how to win, they just can’t stomach the price.

But what turns a person who's willing to kill into someone more than a killer? Because the world’s filled with people willing to kill. What distinguishes one above the masses?

Tamlin watched closely, his words soft in the still room. “It's a riddle that creature’s have faced since the dawn of slaughter. Lions, wolves, sharks, gods, and man … all those who’ve felt driven to kill. Those beings that want to be more than killers, that need to be savants of murder. To be truly lethal. A living, breathing weapon. What makes one killer greater than any other? It's not skill. There will always be one more skilled. It's not strength. There will always be someone stronger. And it's not ruthlessness. There will always be someone who’s willing to go further.”

“Lethality is born in logic, peace, and instinct. Sun Tzu wrote to never fight a battle you can lose. You must have a mind of ruthless logic stripped of pride or anger … absent of compassion, empathy, or love. Your conscience must be a void within you. In that trance-like state where violence and peace intertwine, that’s when you become lethal. Not the false peace of pushing down your emotions or denying your needs. No, this peace is an ocean thick with salt, dead and still. You drop a stone into its poisoned waters and ripples flow outward, disturbing the surface, but the stillness returns. Stillness is its natural state, not turbulence. Emotions move through you and are gone, leaving no trace behind.” Tamlin’s eyes stared into distant vistas.

“That’s why you meditate when you get up and before you sleep. A rage filled mind may kill a thousand, but it's silenced by a mind of ruthless cold. The moment is peace, a place of no place, where thought is sin. Within that stillness your mind will flow with murderous intent, devoid of anything except the kill.” Tamlin’s eyes sharpened on Cesare. “When we fight, you’ll seek the peace of your mediations. Instinct will drive you. Logic will show you the lethal path of the razor. Peace will still all doubt. You will kill because it is what you are, death.”

In one fluid motion, Tamlin uncoiled into his stance. That was the way of Tamlin. He switched from wanting to spar to wanting to instruct, without rhyme or reason.

Cesare dragged his right leg behind him as he came out of Tamlin’s class. As he walked down the hall, Anastasia slid up beside him, almost as if she’d been waiting for him. “What happened this morning?”

He looked straight ahead without giving the girl or her toys a look. “Ask your boyfriend, it's his jerk off squad.”

“I did. He said he didn't know anything,” Anastasia said.

Cesare gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Truer words were never spoken. Do you know how a wolf hunts in the wild? They go after the weak. You cut off a deer from its herd before you go for the kill. They want to put me down to cut Alexandra’s support.”

Anastasia was silent as they walked. Kids streamed by them, their startled looks moving over the cordon formed by her dildo boys. “We can't let her keep doing what she wants. It's all over school how she defied the Thagirion and got away with it. Our control depends on our reputation. Can you imagine if students thought there was nothing ready to put them down? They’d be killing each other in the halls. Alexandra started something she has no control over.” Her eyes darted toward him and away. “And you’re helping her. Your reasons don’t change the danger she’s putting us in. It's not her ass on the line. It’s the students who’ll pay the price for her choices. Whether going for her throat or challenging the Thagirion. They’re the ones who will get hurt … bad.”

“That mean’s what? That you think Blaez and his pack should take me apart after school?” Cesare asked without taking his eyes off the hall in front of him.

“I'm not saying that. I'm saying you could’ve avoided this mess by keeping your mouth shut. I don't think targeting you is right. And I'll talk to Blaez about it, but you brought this on yourself.” Anastasia’s voice was tight.

Whether Anastasia realized it, her words crystalized her in his mind. Anastasia's duty to the Thagirion meant more than he ever would. Anastasia didn’t care about collateral damage. Cesare could even agree on some level. If he was in her spot with the same problem, he’d already have his knife in Alexandra's back. Save the many at the cost of the few. It’s basic tactics. Unless you’re one of the few.

It was clear his friendship with Anastasia meant nothing to her. Soon, they’d be on opposite sides of a killing field. He’d have to work on a neutralization plan for her, along with the one he had for Bleaz.

Stepping out the door to the school, they stilled on catching sight of what was waiting. Over in a corner of the stone landing, against the ornate balustrade, Sampson was talking to Alexandra.

The vampire’s friends stood at the bottom of the stairs talking with members of Cerberus, the two groups mingling easily. And why shouldn’t they? Both groups hated Alexandra’s faith.

Cesare sighed. “Looks like I'll be late for training.” Anastasia turned on Cesare, the harem fanning out behind her so they faced him as a group.

“You’re ditching me for her?” Anastasia’s dark eyes flashed dangerously.

It was too soon for her to pull this. She’d made it clear she would back the group with hooks sharpened for his meat.

He faced her anger with his own. “I'm not ditching you. I'm telling you that someone needs my help. If you think I’d walk away from Alexandra when she needs a friend any more than I’d turn away from you, then you don't know me.”

Sampson was wound tight with hardened muscle, skin turned leathery from hundreds of fights. Big for a man, he was huge for a boy, his body burned clear of fat and softness from a life lived in squalid fighting pits. He was a mean fucker; the scars crisscrossing his body born from beating kids to death with his bare hands. But, Alexandra was beyond him, broad shoulders thick with murderous power, her muscled arms putting his to shame. He was a mouse to her tiger, and from the set of his body, Sampson knew it.

Cesare met Alexandra’s eyes over the boy’s shoulder as he stepped to her side. “Private conversation. Get lost,” Sampson said, eyes taking in the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder..

“He stays, or you leave,” Alexandra countered easily. They didn’t need to speak to know the plan. They may be fighting—and he was still angry at what she’d done—but they were still friends.

Sampson grimaced at the smack down. “I thought we could talk before this gets out of hand.”

“You insulted my God. You created a poster of him fucking my brother in the ass. Then you had the balls to say my brother was raped while he went to school here. If that wasn’t enough, you tried to coat me in shit. That’s way the fuck out of hand to me,” Alexandra said.

“Fair enough. I don’t give a shit if you hate me. I wanted to win, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get there. Don’t fool yourself, we wouldn’t even be talking if stinky here hadn’t stepped in,” Sampson said.

“Talk,” Alexandra said without acknowledging the boy's words.

“We want you gone. You’re dangerous, people die around you and we both know it. We’d rather make a deal with traitors than see the next generation killed off when your leash snaps. We’re willing to get your brother the Knight Commander spot he’s been wanting if you walk away … today.” Sampson stared intently at Alexandra. He had a lot riding on this. What exactly, Cesare didn’t know, but whatever it was meant a lot to him.

Alexandra came to attention, her world shifting like quicksand under her feet. “How do you know that?”

Sampson smirked, but the humor never reached his hard eyes. “The Black Dog has a long reach and we don’t forget. He crossed us while he was here. Fucking him out of what he wants is a pet project for some of us, but they’re willing to give that up to get you out. You leave today. In return, your brother gets the shiny he wants.”

Alexandra frowned. “The only way you could know about his promotion is if members of the Order support Cerberus.”

“Cerberus is more than you know. Some of us want to kill off humanity, others plan to keep them in herds. We even have a few that believe only Christians should live through the purge. We don’t all agree, but we can put that aside knowing that humans and the Illuminati are the real threats,” Sampson said.

“No.” The answer came so swiftly Cesare knew she’d never entertained the offer.

Sampson frowned. “My word’s good. If the time frame's the problem, I can get proof we’re sincere.”

“I know you’re sincere. That’s not it. I love my brother, but he wouldn’t want me to leave, especially not for him. I won’t carry the same regrets he does … that people like you beat him.”

Sampson nodded regretfully. “I can respect that. I wouldn’t have taken the deal either, but my superiors thought it was worth a shot.”

Sampson collected his gang with a look, the soldiers falling into rank around the boy with military precision. After a disgusted look up at the two of them, her friends left without a word.

“You heading back to the Vulpes?” Cesare asked as he watched Alexandra’s friends leave.

Alexandra sighed. “Yeah. They’ll be waiting to give me the talk.”

He walked with her to the Vulpes without her asking or him offering. “What kind of talk’s that?”

She cast a sideways glance his way. “You know the one, stop hanging out with Cesare. He’s nasty. He’s a bad guy. You'll ruin your reputation. People may think your friends. That conversation.”

“Awesome. Should I take this as a get lost conversation?”

“No.” She answered quickly. Hesitating, she continued, “I want to apologize for what I said on Sunday. It was presumptuous of me to make that statement. It's just that since I've been here, a day hasn't gone by that some boy hasn't said he loves me.” She shook her head in disgust. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn't do the same.”

“I just wanted to talk.” Seeing shame move over Alexandra's face, he hesitated before he went on, “But you were right in what you did. It took a friend of mine to make me see that. You just wanted to make sure I understood where I stood.”

“Thanks for helping me out back there,” Alexandra said. “What happened this morning?”

“You could have asked this morning.” Alexandra looked away at the simple words. It would have looked bad for the great and powerful Alexandra Dracul to check on the school's punching bag. It was easier to be hated than it was to be weak. There was shame in weakness, a disease tainting the few that braved its poison touch to help the broken ones. To be hated is to be feared, it’s not respect, but it's a damn sight better than being pitied.

He wasn’t trying to be difficult, but he wouldn't pretend Alexandra wasn't a shit friend. She was the one to break the silence when they reached the Vulpes. “Thanks again for your help.” Her eyes traced his body, ticking off his broke down shoes, duct taped pants and threadbare hoodie. “I can't figure you out. Of all the people here, you should hate me the most. I feed on your kind. I've never raised a hand to help you, even when I knew they were beating you like a drum after school. Yet you helped me. If you were Christian, I’d say you were walking in Christ's steps.”

“You don't have to be Christian to do the right thing,” Cesare said. “And just because you’re Christian doesn't mean you’re doing God's work.”

He needed to check the training area and see if Anastasia was there. They still had time, and he’d be glad for the distraction. It was more than that, holding her close had become an addiction, a howling in the depths of his heart.

Sitting on a fallen tree, Anastasia stood and brushed off her skirt when he came into sight. The harem closed around her protectively. “I wasn't sure you’d show.”

“And if I hadn’t, you’d have told me all about how you waited all night. And if I showed, you’d get your training in.” A slight red came to her cheeks before she mastered it. “Don't worry, I don't blame you. It's a good plan with nothing to lose and everything to gain. If I showed you’d get training. If not, you’d have a weapon to guilt me into giving up my weekends. Good thinking.” Her head snapped up in surprise at his praise. “You need this training to stay alive. If I was in your spot, I’d do the same. If you can hate yourself later, it means you’re still alive.”

Following him inside, she turned around to change out of her school uniform. He’d gotten used to her having her workout clothes underneath. His eyes traced over the milk pale skin of her shoulders, down the gentle curve of her back. Hugging her ass like a second skin, the black spandex showed off her plump curves to perfection. While not as big as Elizabeth’s, it was more than a handful.

Wrenching his eyes off her ass, Cesare moved to her side. He changed the angles of the targets every training session. Sometimes they even worked inside the circle of targets, giving the impression of being surrounded. They still focused on speed, but with diversions to hone accuracy and endurance.

“Let’s start where we left off last night. I want you to pick out a target, close your eyes, and draw the fire up until it sits on the edge of reality. Wait for my word to let it go.” Cesare moved up behind her, hands resting comfortably on her hips. He never moved any closer than he had that first day, those glorious few inches were a border he wouldn't violate.

Anastasia's hands came down onto his. “Did you choose her over me?”

“You want to do this now?”

“Yes.” His sigh ruffled Anastasia's hair.

“You have a boyfriend, a guy who wants to see what my insides look like. That makes this conversation ridiculous.” Her hands tightened on his, tension rippling across her shoulders. His whisper ghosted across the nape of her neck. “I didn't choose her over you. She was in more need than you were and a few hours, or even a day, won't hurt you. After pushing hard for weeks, having a day off would do you more good than harm. But those hours could mean the difference between Alexandra crying herself to sleep or knowing she had at least one friend.” Anastasia’s tension unwound from her muscles at his words.

“I guess I over reacted …” Silence almost strangled her whisper.

“I know this training’s important to you, so I get it. You’re worried I’ll leave you to chase girls. Let me take care of that right now. No one wants to be chased by me. Now, you ready?” Anastasia gave a slow nod, hands falling away from his.

“Pick your target and close your eyes.” Her body relaxed at his words, falling under its familiar spell. “Feel the flame that lives in you. Hear the crackle of the fire. The hunger that never ends. The gnawing need to consume, to devour, the ravenous appetite that drives the flame.” Her breathing slowed and deepened as her consciousness sank into the depths of her mind. “Call the flame to the edge of flesh, hold it from the feast of life. Master the need …” His breath moved over her ear, words so quiet they were barely heard. “Can you feel it?” She gave him a slow, meditative nod.

“Hold it there. When I give the word, I want you to open your eyes and let it out. NOW!” The word was more felt than heard. Her eyes flared open, hands snapping up. Flame burst out, smashing into the target with a thump.

Her speed was light-years ahead of what she’d achieved before. It was a real breakthrough. They’d hone it, sharpen and weaponize it. Shorten the time she needed to prepare to get the strike that fast, take away his help until she could do it on her own. It would take time, but they could do it.

Anastasia whirled around and leaped onto him with a squeal, arms tightening around him, breasts pushed against his chest. His own arms belatedly went around her, holding her lightly, not sure what to do with the beautiful girl. Firm and young, her body was silken flame.

“Looks like someone likes me.” The smoky words played across his ear.

Blushing, Cesare let go and stepped back. “Well … that looked like an improvement, but it's one thing to do it in training and another to do it in a fight. We need to refine it into something you can use.”

She smiled, eyes dancing with wicked glee. “I knew you could help me. I just knew it. What's next?” The words tripped over each other in her excitement.

“We work on getting you into that state quicker. So?” Cesare opened his arms in invitation. Smiling, she turned and stepped back into his arms. His hands fell naturally onto her hips, her hair brushing across his mouth in a jasmine scented caress.

“It wasn't just the … training … I was upset about.” Anastasia's whisper stopped him. Suddenly, the fact that he held a gorgeous woman in his arms was hard to get past. The intimacy of their bodies something that couldn’t be glossed over.

“You have a boyfriend and I'm not that guy.” He wouldn't chase a girl who was with another guy. There are some things you don't do and hunting another man's girl was one of them.