Waiting, he was always waiting. Leaning up against the tree, Cesare hoped this went better than round one.

Alexandra came around the building, the blinding white of the robe a shock in the dark time. Unbound, her blonde hair shone with captivating pureness. The grace of her god gifted her with a peace that transcended the earthly world. She disappeared into the woods without a word or nod of welcome.

Hours later, she came out of the woods. Smoothing her robe down over her ass, she took a seat next to him. “You make up with Anastasia?”

“Nothing to make up. You know she's with Blaez?” Anastasia had good reason to keep their training sessions secret. There’s no telling what the Thagirion would do if they found out.

“Yes, it's all anyone's talking about. And yet, aside from seeing them together at school or heading out for a date on the weekend, I’ve never seen them together. She disappears after school every day, but no one knows where she goes.” Cesare shrugged without a word. “You don't have to tell me. I was just curious.”

“She's with Blaez and I'm not that kind of guy. We’re not friends, more like … allies …” His relationship with Anastasia was complicated, barbed with pain, poisoned by what he couldn’t have, small islands of pleasure precious for how far apart they were. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to walk away.

“I was hoping to ease them into my being a practicing Christian. Maybe even convert some of them. But I don't know where to go from here …” As a change of subject, it wasn’t bad. It was certainly better than his love life.

Leaning back against the tree, their shoulders touched. “You’re not out in the world, you’re here. They hate your religion. They loath what you believe in. I don't know that you’ll have any luck at changing that.” His hand rose to stop her from interrupting. “That doesn't mean you should stop. How much do you have to hate someone to want their souls to burn in hell? If I believed everyone was going to hell, I’d be dragging people to church.”

“You can throw troops all day long at a fortification but if you gain nothing, you’re just wasting men. You’re fighting an enemy you don't know how to beat. The goal is too big, you need to break it down into steps, each one easily handled. First, you get them to tolerate your belief. Second, we move onto understanding. Only then will they be open to your words enough to bleed for them.” As he talked, he was taken with the idea. Not the actual act of converting people, he was indifferent to her goal.

Alexandra’s smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You make it sound like a military campaign?”

“You have an objective and a need to marshal your forces effectively. It can be a conversation or a relationship, but if you want to win, someone has to lose. A good plan gets you the win with the least amount of collateral damage for both sides.”

She gave him a small smile. “No, you miss my point. I like it. Makes it nice and neat, lay out the problem and break it down into steps to victory. My father loves this, he's always working old battles trying to figure out what could have or should have been done.” A rueful smile curved her lips. “Not my cup of tea. I like to fight, not plan. But I can appreciate the military mindset. Makes me feel … at home, I guess.”

“Me and my sister used to sit with him for hours when we were young. He has a room where he keeps his tables set up with famous battles.” Her eyes went distant, lost in memories of better days. “Battle of Vienna when the Ottoman Empire set siege to the city, Waterloo with Napoleon, Battle of Huai-Hai in China … we’d sit and watch him as he painted his models with the pictures of the uniforms spread out in front of him. He’d go on for hours about the strategy and what could have happened. I didn’t care about the battles, but I loved the time when it was just us and him.” Alexandra went quiet as she left her memories, returning to the present. “In some ways, you remind me of him.” She studied him for a long, silent second. “Do you think your plan will work?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Depends, what's your goal?”

Her smile widened. “There you go again. My goal would be to convert the school to Christianity.”

“Let me put it this way, you want to conquer an army without amassing an army of your own. If you wanted to take land you’d gather the men, train your army, scout out your enemy and make plans. Christianity didn't get to be a world power overnight. It worked at it for centuries and it did it by steps. Tolerance, understanding, and finally conversion. That's not considering conversion by the sword, which isn’t an option at the moment.” There was no censure in his voice. Conquering in the name of religion or conquering for land were the same to Cesare. Ask a conquered people if they give two shits why they were conquered.

“What do you recommend?” Her eyes studied his face with singular focus.

“Saying grace is a good start. You've never hidden your cross, so you have that going for you. Act like a Christian without worrying how it’s taken. Eventually, your actions will speak the words they won't hear. Can you say they’ve seen anything that would make them convert?” Alexandra had tremendous power. And she’d watched while he came to class day after day bloody, beaten and savaged.

They sat silently, watching the sun rise above the Vulpes. “I should get back. I have a lot to think on,” Alexandra said quietly. Her steps were heavier and less sure than when she’d arrived.

Cesare walked into the cottage. He wanted to get one of his distillations finished and ready to use. He hoped to use the three hours before Elizabeth arrived to finish it.

When the door opened behind him after only half an hour of being in the cottage, a curse slipped from his lips. In the middle of pouring a volatile liquid, he couldn’t divide his attention. He finished it before he turned and faced Elizabeth. That she’d showed so soon after he arrived … well, it told him that somehow … someway, she’d known of his arrival. Whether she was spying on him or it was just a good guess didn't matter.

“Decided on an early start?” Cesare's light tone eased the tension in the room.

“I figured you might be here and thought, why waste the daylight?” Matching his light tone, she shared his smile. They both sidestepped the truth that she’d come early to spend time with him.

“Mind if I finish this up? Once it's poured, I have to either finish it or toss it out.” He said, turning back to the burner.

Elizabeth came up behind him, her shoulder lightly pressing into his. It was a small intimacy, revealing a need for touch that neither was comfortable expressing. “What are you doing today?”

“More components for explosives. A guy I knew said, having an explosive is a lot like having a woman. You may not want the one you have but when you ain’t got one, you sure miss it.” He’d believed religiously that any problem could be fixed with the right amount of explosive. Most days Cesare agreed, the other days Cesare knew there weren’t enough explosives in the world to make it right.

“You think the akatharton will need something like this for her fight?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don't know. If it gets bad, she'll need something to get her out of trouble. I want Plan B to be a nuclear option that kills everything around her,” Cesare said, enjoying the simple pleasure of touching someone. Not for training or to fill some purpose, but just because they wanted to touch him.

She felt right in a way almost nothing did. She’d leave someday, and he’d be alone again. But for right now, he could lie to himself. Could tell himself that he wasn’t alone, that someone cared.

He’d just opened his mouth when a knock came at the door. Anger ignited with the fury of a grass fire in Elizabeth's eyes while color flooded her cheeks. Stalking across the cottage, she yanked the door open with a crash. “Yes?” Ravens glared down at Greg from rousts on the roof and door, glittering pieces of darkness, they watched with death’s uncaring stare.

Greg paled at facing the openly seething Chthonic. “Umm, I came to give this to Cesare.”

Elizabeth turned on Cesare, anger charging the air between them. If he wanted what Greg was trying to give him, he’d have to take it from him. Cesare had always known Elizabeth was protective of her domain, but not this protective.

Not a single caw or ruffle of feathers broke the threatening silence. The folder Greg held out trembled with a fear the boy couldn’t chain.

“Anastasia's up against a Wendigo. I'm sorry,” Greg said as Cesare took the folder from him. Malignant shadows leapt into the air, flying escort on the boy's quickstepping retreat from the cottage.

Elizabeth slammed the door, whipping around to face Cesare. “So much for this being our time.”

Turning his back on her, he went to his work table. This had to be handled carefully. On one hand, the fact that she treasured this time was nice, but he didn’t want her freaking out every time something came up. Setting the file down, he turned to face her.

“What's wrong?” Cesare asked quietly.

“I thought this was our time. Without us being teachers or students, just Cesare and Elizabeth. But you’re seeing Alexandra in the morning, and don’t tell me that Anastasia isn’t pushing you to train her on the weekends. Was this going to be the last weekend where it’s just us?” Elizabeth was angry because it was better than being scared, better to fight than cry, better to hurt others and make them bleed than to beg them to stay.

“I didn't ask him to come here. I wouldn't. If you want me to stop seeing Alexandra in the morning, all you have to do is ask. Is that what you want?” Cesare asked.

“Yes.” It was quiet, threaded with the knowledge she had no right to ask. She asked it because she needed it, that hunger devoured fairness.

“Okay.”

“Just like that?”

Cesare sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, his words coming slow and measured. “I like Alexandra. She needs a friend and is fun to talk to. But it's not worth hurting you.” He locked eyes with her, trying to say with his heart what she wouldn’t let him say with words.

“You say that, but it never ends that way.” Lines carved by old pain were mapped across her face, sliced deep by scalpels wielded by those she trusted. Every betrayal comes from someone you trust, someone you thought would never turn their back on you.

“I’m not asking you to trust me, just give me the chance to prove that I can be trusted.” Cesare gave her the time to steady herself, to leave the past in the past. “Do you want to tell me the rest of it?”

“I noticed your training. You certainly have a hands-on approach,” Elizabeth said.

“She learns faster with me being with her like that. And I won't lie and tell you I don't enjoy it.” He let the words out slowly, each one weighed with truth. “Friends care for you. They stand by you. They protect you, or at least try. They look at you and see you as someone special. They don't watch as you’re beaten and degraded. How could I have anything with them if they can't even be my friend?” He wouldn’t, couldn’t, be with someone he didn’t trust.

“She protected you from Blaez.”

“Yes, she did … after I stood by her. Would she have protected me if I hadn't? She’d never helped me before.” Having gone over that moment over and over, he still didn’t know the truth.

“I didn't help.” The admission was a whisper. “I thought if I got involved it would only escalate. Already, they were trying to drive you away. If I stepped in, it would turn into a war with you stuck in the middle. It’s all too easy to disappear when you’re facing the Thagirion.” She swallowed hard, eyes dark with shame. “But you would have been there for me and damn the consequences?” It was a question. One she needed answered and desperately didn’t want to hear.

“I would have. Nothing would have stopped me.” Darkness layered his voice, words sharp with casual violence, moonlight and blood, thorns and bloodless blooms. Elizabeth shivered under its fey caress, bright spots of color marking her cheeks. It was the voice of his soul birthing itself into the world. Murderous, lethal, blood-soaked, and vengeance laden.

They both looked at each other as the otherworldly voice floated in the air. “Great Mother! That’s could move a woman …”

Cesare had chosen the willow tree for today’s picnic. Its sadness drew him, its beauty purer than the joy of less despairing wood. Comfortable silence fell between them, neither of them feeling the need to fill it. Lying back on the blanket, the only sounds were the flapping of the ravens’ wings.

“You scare me.” Elizabeth’s words brought a thump to Cesare’s heart. “I'm afraid of getting lost in you. That I could learn to forgive you for anything.” The admission hurt with its painful vulnerability.

How do you repay honesty like that? How do you reward a woman when she bares her neck in submission? How do you match the courage of a woman like that? How do you prove worthy of a woman with that kind of honesty? Only by cutting deep and showing her the terror that twists in your soul.

“I fear you'll leave me. Everyone else has. Someday you’ll see I'm worthless, no matter how hard I try to be something.” The past had carved that lesson into the flesh of his heart, burned it into the bones of his soul. Everyone left, they walked away because he wasn't worth keeping.

“I won't …” she began.

Cesare cut her off. “Don't. Don't make that promise.” She stopped, realizing if she left after making that promise it would drive the betrayal deeper into an already crippled heart.

“You really think I'll leave?” Elizabeth asked.

“You will. Something will happen: family, ambition, duty, love … it's always something, and you’ll have to choose between me and it. And you won’t choose me.” The ravens quieted under the steel conviction of his words.

“If you believe that, then why do this?” Elizabeth whispered.

“We’re creatures of contact. We crave it like starving wolves crave meat. We need it like we need nothing else. Even when each person is a knife sliding into your back. Even knowing you'll leave me, I can't stop caring for you, can’t stop fighting to be with you.” The words were a corpse of trust, its rotting remains all that was left of the trust he was born with.

Dark brought an end to the grueling work. With a sigh, Cesare sat down at the table they used to play chess as Elizabeth handed him his cup of tea. She’d made his before starting on her own, a small thing, but the treasures of his life were made of small things. She laid the folder on the table, drawing a questioning look from him.

“You should go over it tonight. The fight's next weekend. I know you'll either do it now or stay up all night reading it.” Her tone turned wry. “I'd rather you not sleep through my class.”

Cesare took the folder with a grateful smile. “Thanks.” She gave him a quiet smile before going to get her own cup of tea. Opening the folder, he flipped through the pages until he settled on Anastasia's match up. Before he knew it, Elizabeth was reading over his shoulder with her tea in her hand.

“What do you know about the wendigo?” Cesare asked, eyes darting over the file.

“Not a lot. Probably what most people know about them. Run.”

“That bad, huh?”

“They scare people. I don’t know of anyone that’s killed one in the last hundred years. They were thought to be related to werewolves because they look a little like them, but they don't share the weakness to silver. You might think Blaez is kill crazy, but he’s got nothing on a wendigo. No one’s sure if they’re born psychotic or if sanity is stripped from them by their parents. The one thing everyone knows is that they feed on sentient flesh. Umbrae Lunae or human, it doesn't matter as long as it’s still quivering. They send the Na’wal running for the hills, something about the wendigo scares them more than anything else. The saying is that werewolves are all teeth and claws but a wendigo’s ice and hunger. I did hear something about them regenerating faster in the cold, but who knows?” Her words washed over him as he read.

Hesitantly, her fingers ran through his hair. It was nice, so very nice. A warmth moved through him, sluggish pleasure warmed cold muscles, releasing aches that had taken up home in his soul. He couldn’t say thanks, the only way she would do it was if they pretended she wasn’t doing it.

It wasn’t romantic. No, she’d just been alone too long. Viktor would have let her touch him, but it would have always been about sex. That was a different craving. What she felt was the simple, inescapable need for her touch to be welcomed. You don’t ever notice how much that contact means until you’ve gone years without it.

Enjoying the caress, Cesare shared what he was reading. “The female’s are sterile except when they’re quickened by the flesh of a family member. They'll gorge themselves on their own flesh if they can't hunt. Fighting takes the place of table manners with the wendigo breaking down into a feeding frenzy after getting a taste of their opponent.”

Wedded to carnage, they were born evil, birthed in the sewers of slaughter. Cesare had seen enough to know that some things were just born wrong … born to hate and kill. Dying was the only good they had in them.

He closed the file as Elizabeth's fingers ran luxuriously through his hair. This monster wasn't like the other creature. The Drekavac was a barracuda, this was a great white. It would take a different plan.