Monday November 17th 2014

“This is … a hellish task.” Cesare said as his head fell into his arms.

They'd been at it for an hour and when that hour was before sunrise, well, that was a long damn hour. Alexandra moved the history book away from his tortured eyes.

“You’re doing better. It’s just going to take time.” Alexandra stacked the books to the side before turning to face him. “Commander, since I was three, I’ve had the best tutors. I was studying world politics at five and attending adult parties at seven. I’ve had every advantage that can be bought or stolen. Frankly, the current curriculum is remedial for me. I came here for other reasons. Then we have you …”

She shook her head. “I don’t know your history, but that schooling wasn’t part of it is obvious. You don’t change that in a few weeks. It’s going to take years. And that’s just to catch up.”

He hadn’t had a lot of schooling. What he had was grabbed a few months here and there. It was only a matter of time before that caught up with him. And that time was now. He’d been able to fake it for the first few months, but his past had never been something he could escape.

“But it can be done?” Cesare asked.

Alexandra weighed the books with her eyes, intent on giving him the truth. Finally, she turned clear and determined eyes on Cesare. “It can. But it's a lot of work. We can keep you current by dealing with one assignment at a time. Most of it’s just memorization anyway. While we do that, we backfill your knowledge. Miss Raven can get us the textbooks for younger grades and we can move through those as we do the regular work.” She sighed while thumbing through the history book. “It won’t be easy, but if you’re willing to put in the time, I’m willing to help.”

It was the best offer he’d get, and more than he had any right to expect. Education was the only way off the streets. Pimps, thieves, dealing, or selling your ass, they shared the same retirement plan of bleeding out or doing serious time. And steady jobs that paid required at least a high school diploma. A GED would never be the same. While one was the standard, the other was a sign of weakness, a symbol of failure in a world that didn't have the time.

This school was his shot at that. It was his last shot, in fact. While he’d busted his ass, his grades had been compromised by the politics of staying alive. Now he was reaping what he’d sown … failing.

He took a deep breath and scowled at the history book. “Thank you. I know this isn’t what you want to do with your time. In a way, you may be my only hope of staying here.”

She looked down, opening the history book restlessly. “Cesare, this is … nothing. I know it’s important to you and I’m glad to do it. But it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.” She lifted her hand to stop his protest. “No, this is a long time coming, and I need to say it. You’ve been there for me, even when I wasn’t worth being there for. For that alone, I’d do this and be glad for the chance. But when you stood in front of that altar, knowing your life was forfeit, you changed everything between us. That altar's sacred to my people. My father set those stones for the first meeting of his kin, those that would come to surrender their souls to Christ, and eventually became the Order. My people come here on pilgrimages to lay their hands on the symbol of our faith, to dedicate ourselves anew to Christ.”

Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his chest with her wide, calloused hand. “I know you faced him, knowing he’d kill you. I know you did that for me. I’d die to prevent that heathen's hands from fouling its holiness and you protected it for me.” She shook her head, reluctantly taking her hand back. “This is nothing compared to what you’ve done for me. I’d kill for you, you know that. But Cesare, I’d follow you to hell and face Satan himself if you asked me.”

That was more than he’d planned for. He’d gone into the fight knowing it was his last. He’d thought he’d get in some licks, but you don’t fight a thing like Blaez and walk away. And he’d almost been right, but what he hadn’t counted on was what his actions would mean to Alexandra. It was a terror, her slavish devotion could only consume him. Because he could only disappoint, it was the only constant in his life.

He opened his mouth before stopping himself, caught in his study of the breathtaking woman in front of him. No, she wasn’t like that. She believed in him. She wanted to follow him but it was a soldier's devotion, not a slave's crawling poison. Alexandra had a god, a purpose, and a family. What she wanted was a friend, someone to help her through the maiming of life.

Joined at thigh and shoulder, they hunched over the same book with renewed energy. The gasps of the room snapped their heads to the cafeteria doors. Breakfast was almost over; any new arrivals wouldn’t have time to get food before class started. Anyone coming in now was looking to make an appearance.

Blaez and Anastasia stood in the doorway, giving the room time to get a good look. Anastasia looked tired with limp hair and dark circles under her eyes. But for once, Bleaz eclipsed her. The bandages had come off, revealing a blasted wasteland of a face.

He’d been a handsome man. The baby fat that cursed so many melted off from punishing training and brutal fights. He was tall and well built, possessing a confident air wedded to the grace of a fighter. Strong and born to money, he’d been a dominant boy that drew other boys to him.

That was gone now, burned away by thermite, consumed by molten silver. Deep cuts crisscrossed his face, inflamed canyons held together by gleaming black stitches. He was disfigured by the trenches the liquid metal had burned into his skull and face, a network of organic river beds crafted by cruelties own hand.

Not even a whisper ran through the crowd as Blaez and Anastasia went to their table. Girls winced and looked away at the grotesque sight. Boys stared with horrified fascination at a man who’d seemed to have it all, reduced to a twisted caricature of who he used to be. It was too much for one girl, who raced out of the cafeteria sobbing with her hands over her face.

Alexandra’s voice dripped with quiet sarcasm. “Too bad, so sad.”

Cesare’s lips tightened into a sharp smile. “I thought they healed.”

“Silver’s nasty stuff. They can heal from anything in their Kveldulf form except silver. Once the silver’s been removed, they have to heal like a human. He’ll bear the scars for the rest of his life.”

Alexandra watched intently as Cesare got up from the table with a grimace of pain, ready to help him if he fell. The doctor had cleared Cesare to walk as long as he was careful and rested when he felt tired. It was nice to get around on his own, even if it was with shuffling steps. Anything to get out of the prison the wheelchair had become.

Alexandra stayed close after class as they gathered their books before heading to lunch. She’d kept to his side since she'd agreed to help him over a week ago. She’d eventually move on when she figured out he was nothing but a life vest. He was important for right now, but once she hit land, he'd be tossed aside as useless. His worth was always transactional.

Cesare could never understand the world she came from. It wasn’t just her being a super vampire, but the life she’d been born to. The tutors that had filled her days, and the expectation that she could be anything she dreamed of. Endless money and the security it buys, she'd never worried about the next meal or the insecurities that tortured the poor. Privilege and the power it gifts, her dreams were unchained and free of life's hard rules and eager blades. She could never take him into her world. All he’d ever be was an embarrassment. Her feelings didn't matter, the only place he could claim in her world was as food.

Anastasia was outside the lunch room talking to one of her harem. Students eyed the goddess and her devoted slave as they passed them. Cesare swept his eyes over the students, in the nervous habit of a rabbit checking for snakes. That’s when he spotted her.

It was the crying girl from breakfast. Tear trails marked her face with a mask of savage grief. But it was her eyes that made Cesare stop. They were locked onto Anastasia with focused hate. She didn't acknowledge the students that called out to her, they were shades of a past life, the discarded bits of a life she'd already butchered.

“Alexandra …” The vampire’s eyes tracked his stare, focusing on the student he'd picked out. Just then, the student sprinted for the akatharton, a sixth sense warning her of the attention. She whipped out a jar she’d concealed with her body as Anastasia turned to face the onrushing student. Confident in her power, Anastasia didn’t flinch away. She was in the heart of her strength, surrounded by her harem with the Thagirion close at hand to back her up. Anyone challenging her would be put down instantly.

“This is for Blaez, whore!” The girl threw the liquid at Anastasia’s face. It looked like water. Maybe that was why Anastasia only raised her hands in surprise. But it wasn’t water. Gobs of viscous liquid drenched Anastasia’s hands and face.

Anastasia screamed as the liquid hit her skin, high pitched agony piercing the air. Acrid smoke rose from her flesh as it liquefied. “Alexandra!” Cesare’s scream ripped the vampire from her paralysis. She blinked out of sight with vampiric speed as Cesare sprinted for the akatharton. Scenting blood, students rushed forward to see, cutting off Cesare’s view of Anastasia.

Alexandra appeared in a blink, slamming the gloating girl onto the ground with bone-shattering force. One hand locked the student’s hands up behind her back while the other secured the back of the girl's head.

Cesare hammered through the circle of gawking students to Anastasia's crumpled body. Slumped on the ground, she let out wet, agonized cries as her flesh melted in milky rivers, leaving only red muscle behind. Ruined, her face dissolved, definition melting as features ran down her face in clear and pink tinged streams.

Paralyzed with horror, the harem staggered back with disgust. Students screamed for help while others lurched out of the circle spraying vomiting. The smart ones ran, either going for help or knowing a war zone wasn't where they wanted to be.

Throwing himself next to her, Cesare tore through his bag, coming up with a box that was duct taped shut. Tearing it open with a wrench, he dusted the white powder across Anastasia’s hands and face, the acid bubbling and frothing on contact with the baking soda.

“Leave her alone!” The harem didn’t know what to do, but they knew they hated him.

Alexandra was still restraining the woman. No matter how powerful she was, she couldn’t be in two places at once. Alexandra met his eyes, a knowing passed between them that was finished with his nod. With a delicate twist of her hand, Alexandra snapped the girl’s neck as easy as popping the cap on a soda bottle—and meaning as much to her.

Free from having to restrain the attacker, she stood up. Her presence sent the harem stumbling backwards. “Killer, clear the area; I need room.” The command settled something primal in her.

“Back,” Alexandra ordered. The word was issued with absolute authority, the dominion that only the keepers of life and death own. She stood tall, her cadaverous face stripped of humanity, deadly fangs on display, embracing the fullness of her murderous soul. Everyone jumped back, most running to get as far away as possible.

Cesare sprinkled the baking soda across the wounds with one hand while stripping his jacket off with the other. “I’m here, princess. I’m here. Stop struggling, I’m here.” A stream of nonsense words flowed out of him as he manhandled Anastasia to get the white powder across her face, leaving bubbling acid in its wake.

“Rip the jacket apart, I need wraps for my hands.” Alexandra ripped the smoking jacket into strips, which he quickly tied around his hands.

Taking water bottles from his bag, he started washing off the bubbling acid. The thick liquid formed a puddle of stinking sulfur and melting flesh. He dusted the cleared skin with more baking soda. Anastasia’s wet screams echoed down the hallway as she drowned in pain.

Cesare wove a blanket of comfort with his words. “I’m here, Princess. I’m here, don’t worry; I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

Viktor and Jerold scattered the students like bowling pins as they broke through the circle of gawkers. “What’s going on?” Jerold demanded.

Alexandra slid into place between them and Cesare, a barrier of malignant temper. She had her orders, and it didn’t matter if they were students or gods. Cesare had said he needed space, and she’d give him that. Shifting only a bare few steps was all it took to get her point across. A low hiss whistled from between her needle-sharp fangs in a declaration of lethal intent.

Sharing a quick look, the two teachers split up to divide her attention. Stepping back closer to Cesare, Alexandra shrunk the space she needed to protect.

It was then that Cesare truly understood how much faith Alexandra had in him. She’d killed for him. Now, she was willing to fight two teachers on his word, either uncaring of the consequences or trusting he’d find a way out for her.

Scissors made short work of Anastasia’s drenched Thagirion coat and dress shirt. Everything that had acid on it, had to come off. Cesare tossed the smoking clothes aside, revealing flesh that ran in thick, viscous rivers of liquid.

“Alexandra, you need to stand down,” Jerold said as he moved to the right.

“Come on, girl. Whatever's going on, you don’t need to do this,” Viktor coaxed. “Don’t make me go through you, kid.”

Alexandra emitted a low hiss. “Don’t make me bleed you, old man.”

Cesare had no words for them. All his words were for Anastasia. Even with his best efforts to keep her calm, he could feel the Ebon Flames writhing under her skin, eager to wash the hallway in flames. It was there every time he touched her, struggling to claim the world with its hunger.

Elizabeth plowed through the crowd of students, pushing them callously aside. One look was all she needed to take in the scene. She breezed past Alexandra without a look, drawing scowls from the men at her easy acceptance. It wasn’t that Alexandra trusted her, it was that Cesare did.

Elizabeth stayed just outside his working area. “Cesare, what do you need?”

That was why she meant so much to him. Explanations could wait, only what he needed mattered. “Space.”

“Come on, kid. I can hold her down …” Viktor offered.

“No.” Cesare said, anger spiking his voice. Responding to his anger, Alexandra shifted that much closer to attack, a kinetic stillness rolling over her as she readied her powers. Elizabeth stiffened at Cesare’s side, power sliding over her eyes in a tidal wave of green. “No one touches her but me,” Cesare said. If Anastasia felt another’s touch, one she didn’t recognize, she’d lash out without thought and drown the world in black death.

Viktor shared a look with Jerold, both of them breaking off their approach. Maybe they could have gotten past Alexandra … maybe. But never both women. Instead, they changed tactics and gathered the harem, questions coming quick and angry. Not a piece of it mattered. All that mattered, all that could matter, was Anastasia. Elizabeth and Alexandra would take care of everything else.

Robert arrived with his team, stretcher in tow. Those students who’d been brave or stupid enough to stay, were slammed up against the wall to make room for the triage team. Robert assessed the situation with a quick look from outside Alexandra's cordon, smart enough not to push a vampire riding a vicious temper. Alexandra waited for Cesare's nod before she let the team in.

“What do we have, Cesare?” Robert didn't try to touch Anastasia.

The hall went silent, it was the one question everyone wanted answered. “She was hit with sulphuric acid. The attacker was taken down. She died hitting the ground. I cut off the acid drenched clothes.” A pool of acid and flesh bubbled and steamed on the floor next to him. “I washed off what I could and treated her with baking soda, but she still needs to be washed off.” Cesare's words were quick and clipped, begrudged for the time they took away from the mewling flesh under his hands.

A satisfied smile crossed the doctor’s face. “Good. Can you lift her onto the stretcher? You have the wraps on, and I don’t want anyone else touching her until we get her sedated. We don’t want her spraying the room with flame.” All three teachers blanched at the prospect. It hadn’t occurred to any of them just what they were handling—a crazed fire wielder lost to her pain with the power to melt stone.

They raced through the halls with the nurses and doctor. Alexandra, still in full vamp mode, kept pace at Cesare’s elbow. The nurses worked as they went, cutting Anastasia’s skirt, shoes, and socks off in preparation of getting her ready. A nurse slammed a syringe into her vein on the run, Anastasia slumping back as the drugs skinned the pain from her mind. Once in the infirmary, they rushed them into an industrial shower.

“Cesare, you’ll have to stay with her. Just try to keep her calm,” The doctor directed as the nurses peeled the rest of her clothes off.

The water came down in a torrential deluge. Cesare knelt beside Anastasia as the water washed over them, drenching them in seconds. “You’re going to be okay. I won't leave you. And when you wake up, I’m going to be right here. I’m going to be with you, princess.” Already half dissolved, her ear slipped off and floated down into the waste coming off her.

Pink streams of half dissolved flesh ran off her, dotted with islands of half dissolved meat. They stayed like that, Cesare kneeling next to the stretcher, his mouth inches from the hole in her skull where her ear had been. “You’ll make it. Because I won’t let this break you. We’ll be back training and laughing together in no time. You can do this, princess. You can do this.”

Once she was pink from hot water and stripped of acid, they came to wheel her away, an I.V. already pumping drugs into her body. The wet whimpers and cries weakened until she fell into blessed darkness.

They left him there in the hall, dripping on the tiles as he stared down the hallway where they'd taken her. He lurched to the side, hitting the wall hard, sliding down, his arms wrapping around his knees, head coming down on them. The tears came. Not for him or what he’d seen. Not even for the dead girl. No, these were all for Anastasia, for what she’d lost. Condemned to a body that disgusted her, tortured everyday by what she'd been.

They found him there, both taking a side and sitting down next to him. The yielding warmth of Elizabeth and the hard, steel strength of Alexandra bracketed him. “How long?”

Elizabeth ran her hand soothingly through his wet hair. “About an hour. She’s still in the operating room. They’re going to keep her sedated for hours.”

It took his remaining strength to stand. His voice creaked despite his effort to keep it steady. “I need to be there when she gets out.”

The women traded a look. Alexandra held him in place with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You need to get changed.” His head whipped around angrily. “I know. It’s the furthest thing from your mind, but Elizabeth made me do it when you were getting put back together. I didn’t want to do it then, but it was the right thing to do. Cesare, you need to at least look like you have it together when she wakes up.”

They didn’t know. He pushed himself off the wall and Alexandra let him go. “It won’t matter. I watched as her eyes dissolved and washed away in that hallway.”

“Oh, Cesare.” Elizabeth pulled him to her side while Alexandra hesitantly took his hand.

“Then do it because it will make you feel stronger. I know you, Cesare. You won't leave her, no matter what happened in that clearing. But you need to be at your best. And this isn’t it,” Alexandra said.

One good thing about staying at the infirmary was that his room was close by. The downside was that everyone knew where to find him. Viktor scowled from where he leaned against Cesare’s door while Jerold stood in the middle of the hall.

Viktor growled from behind him as Cesare walked past the two without a word. “We want some answers, kid.”

Cesare dug through his dresser for clothes. “Great, I want dry clothes. Good luck with yours, I think I found mine.” The sweats he pulled out were as threadbare as his patience.

“Listen, kid ...” Viktor moved to put his hand on Cesare’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me. I’m not your kid and you’re not my father. You’re a teacher and sometimes a friend, that’s all.” The clothes went into a ball as he went to the bathroom. He left the door open just enough to give himself privacy and still be able to talk.

Jerold chimed in. “You’re not going anywhere until we know what happened.”

“You know what happened. The girl attacked Anastasia and died when Alexandra took her down. Some people don’t know how to roll with a take down,” Cesare snapped.

“You could have told us this at the scene,” Viktor said.

“You saying I should’ve stopped saving my friend’s life to buy you a fucking clue?” Cesare came out to face them in dingy brown sweats. “Get this. If it comes down to pandering to your ego or helping my friends, I'll choose my friends every time.”

“That’s not it. We could have helped.” Viktor held his patience with both hands.

“No, you couldn’t. You didn’t know what was going on. You didn’t know how to help. And I didn’t have the time to teach you.” Cesare made for the door. As far as he was concerned, this talk was over.

Jerold smoothly stepped into his path. “I told you we would get answers before we allowed you to leave. Why did you have baking soda on you?”

Cesare eyed the teacher. “Dangerous world. Important to have all kinds of things on you. Or did you guys forget it was having things on me that saved my life?” Cold anger bled through the words. “Because it certainly wasn’t you and yours that helped me.”

Alexandra stepped through the door, sidestepping Jerold she made her way to Cesare’s side. “We helped as much as we could.”

“Thanks. Next time you have a shark circling you, I’ll be sure to yell encouragement,” Cesare said dryly.

“We’re done here. Step aside, Jerold,” Elizabeth said from the doorway.

“I think …” Viktor started to move closer to Elizabeth, a smile tugging at his lips.

“That, I doubt. You’re interrogating the man who saved the life of Lady Kali’s daughter,” Elizabeth pointed out.

Viktor chuckled as he looked Cesare up and down. “Hardly a man.”

Anger, bright and deadly, flared in Elizabeth’s eyes as she glared at the rough man. “The man who saved Lady Kali’s daughter, in front of the school. And you’re interrogating him. I’m putting a stop to it.”

“You don’t have the authority,” Jerold said calmly.

Facing him, a smirk played across Elizabeth’s lips. “No, but I have the power.” Raising her hand, the room rumbled in sympathy, the stones undulating to her call. The dresser skittered across the floor before the earth settled. Jerold and Viktor stared at her, white faced.

“You’ve never felt the need to …” Jerold stuttered.

“For too long I’ve allowed others to dictate to me. I have the power, and I’ll use it. Now stand aside, child.” Jerold ducked his head in submission, standing aside as Cesare left the room.

The two women gave the waiting room a disgusted look Cesare didn’t get. Taking opposite chairs, they dived into their book and tablet. Anastasia was stabilized after hours of surgery. Settled into a room, she was dead to the world, drugged beyond pain's ability to torture.

The women didn’t stay long. They had school tomorrow while he’d been given the day off. Robert had stepped in and cleared him to stay in the room as long as he wanted. It was only minutes before it was just the two of them, with only the sound of her breaths and the night as his company.

Hours later, opening door brought Cesare a weary feeling. The nurses kept trying to get him to go to his own room, telling him she didn’t even know he was there. He didn’t feel like telling them that he knew he was there, and that was the reason he stayed. He’d never forgive himself for leaving her alone.

Blaez stood in the doorway, eyes shining golden as the light caught them. The ravaged cuts that ran across his face cast shadows, creating a patchwork of flesh. Glossy black, the stitches stood out in a webwork of agony.

“I should’ve guessed you’d be here.” Each word rasped with pain, dragged over a raw and bleeding throat. “Where else would you be? You always gave more than you got.” Laughing, he gestured at his face. “I know that better than anyone.”

Cesare’s gun fell into his hand as he leaned back in his chair. “Don’t know, you got me pretty good last time we did this.”

Blaez shook his head. “Oh no, I ain't looking to rematch. I got enough scars to last a lifetime. You know the saying, ‘chicks dig scars?’ Yeah. Turns out, not so much.” His laugh was sandpaper rubbed deep into ravaged meat.

“You come to see her?” Cesare asked. Even as the words left him, he rebelled against the idea of Blaez being here. On some level that didn’t make sense to Cesare, Anastasia was his.

“Not to see her. More to say goodbye,” Blaez said.

“You leaving?” Cesare asked.

Blaez leaned against the door frame, unwilling to come into the room with Cesare sitting on a hair trigger. He’d tangled with the boy and knew it didn’t matter that he looked like a scrawny rabbit. Cesare was a bomb, simple and small, but once it went off, you wished you’d never fucked with it. Because it destroyed everything it touched. “Not the school.”

Then it came to Cesare. White hot rage washed through him, his hand tightening on the gun. “You’re breaking up with her? Here? Now? For fuck’s sake! She’s just had her whole life stripped from her and you’re breaking up with her?”

Blaez nodded with a shrug. “Yep. Hold on, don’t lose it, okay?” Restlessly, Blaez traced one of the scars on his face. “I don’t want trouble, just let me explain. She's fucked up. Worse than I was in fact, and I’m a walking horror show. Even if I wanted to stay with her, what’s in it for me? She was beautiful, now she’s hammered shit ugly. Just look at her.” He gestured toward her in disgust.

Her once beautiful hair was cut down to bristles of fire red. Craters of bald scar tissue dotted her skull. A face mask of rigid, clear plastic, kept the skin in place to heal. Her lips peeked through a slit in the mask, wafer thin with irregular hills of bloated flesh, they were dotted with droplets of melted skin. The mask stopped just before her ears, now just two holes in her head.

What you could see through the mask was worse. There were raw, gaping, red wounds where her eyes used to be. Her nose was gone, leaving only slits with clear straws in place to keep them from closing. Lumpy and slick, her face was a mishmash of parts that no longer looked like they belonged to any one person. Her skin was a medley of maggot-white flesh pock marked by red, broken up by valleys of translucent skin.

Blaez continued quietly. “I can barely look at her. I couldn’t touch her, no one could.”

“She stood by you.” Hurt stabbed deep into Cesare. How he'd wished that she’d been there for him. Instead, she’d looked after Blaez, the boy who’d gutted him like a fish.

“Yeah, she did. She was great, but it wasn’t for me.” Blaez leaned tiredly against the door. “I asked her. Wanted to know why she was helping me after what I’d done. The gutting you was bad; she was off the handle about that. I really think that if I wasn’t hurt, she would have killed me. But the rest of it, well, I wasn’t pretty anymore. No pack. No honor. Nothing. I’d fucked it all up. But she stood by me, so I asked.” The wolf scratched at one of the scars along his face with a grimace.

“And she told me. Said that she’d ruined the best thing she'd ever had for me. That I wasn’t worth it, but that you’d taught her friends don’t cut and run. And she could at least be true to that, even if she’d fucked everything else up,” Blaez said.

“After all that, you’re just going to leave her. No matter her reasons, she stayed with you. She was there for you, even after what you’d done and you’re just going to leave?” Cesare asked.

“You see, that’s the problem between us. You take life too seriously. We’re just teenagers. It’s all life and death with you. I wish to Fenris I’d known that from the beginning, I’d have told Abraxas to go fuck a snake before I screwed with you.” Blaez stopped, visibly looking for the words. “It’s not like that for the rest of us. Sure, we dated and kissed, but it was never forever. When I settle, it will be with a wolf and then only after spreading as many legs as possible. This is the time to have fun, see what you like, and make some mistakes.”

Cesare’s life wasn’t like that. He’d always walked the razor’s edge of life and death. Other kids could just have fun, but not him.

“It was never serious between us. She’s beautiful and rich, and I wanted to see if I could get her to drop her panties. Make some connections while I was getting a piece of ass. Even the bullying and fighting … it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Just a game, something we would laugh about later.” Blaez shrugged, knowing it sounded stupid.

He’d lost his pack and his face, all for something that meant nothing to him. What did his parents do to him to make him this kind of stupid? Fun? He thought it was fun to tear down others, to scar their souls and ruin their lives. And he thought it was a joke, that the kids he tormented would someday laugh about it with him.

“Well, I’m certainly laughing now,” Cesare said.

Blaez winced with a nod. “I said what I came to say.” He paused in the doorway with his back to Cesare. “I just want you to know, I think you went overboard with me and my friends. But it is what it is. I won’t be crossing you again. The price is just too high. Just thought … no, I wanted you to know that. Me and you, we’re done.” The door clicked shut behind him.