Monday February 9th 2015

Shrill and unholy the alarm sounded in the midnight black of the room. Alexandra stared into the darkness in confusion. It always took her a few minutes to remember where she was. She’d spent her life living bouncing between her room and the Orders bases. The sterilized feel of the bases crawled into every sense, institutionalized, impersonal, a butcher’s home uncaring for the flesh that roamed its halls. But it was better than the cage her room had become, cameras on every exit, locks controlled by others, the ever-present threat of death in every word.

Her eyes went to the one wall she called her own in this cathedral of heathens, razored smiles cradled in red velvet wrapped hooks, steel spike's driven into stone with claret fueled strength. An alter to a vengeful god, axes, swords, and knives. They gleamed with pure savageness, oiled and hungry for the lives of heretics and unbelievers. Steel had always soothed her, even when she was young the touch of its cold grace had calmed her.

Slipping out of bed, she walked to the wall, slotting a knife onto its cradling hooks. Her fingers traced the deadly edge of the fighting blade playing across the keen edge of the Elmax. Even in sleep, she needed the comfort of steel. If angels existed beyond the twisted Illuminati, hers was a thing of blades and razors. Only two things had ever replaced the siren comfort of steels metallic song, Cesare's arms and her sister’s presence.

Kneeling at the side of her bed, she clasped her hands in prayer. Stilling herself, she pulled in a single, perfect breath, before bowing her head. Unbound hair a waterfall of gold around her shoulders.

My Lord God

I pray to you before the light of your love has touched the earth

I pray to you in the whispered birth of a new day

I come to you as a penitent unworthy of your grace and love

I seek you in everything I do

As I go about this day, I will keep you ever in my thoughts and seek your glory.

Amen

Holding herself still, she waited with baited breath in the hopes of communion. Sometimes, only sometimes, the Holy Ghost touched the tattered shreds of her psychotic soul. Those times were transcendent, knowing that god loved even his most twisted of creations. That even she, had a place in his plan, a part to play at the spreading of his holy word.

She'd laid out her clothes before bed, neatly folded, pressed until creases were military sharp. A blue skirt and a men’s dress shirt made up the bulk of her uniform for the day. That wasn’t what captured her eye, forcing hands to reach out with a tremble fast becoming harder and harder to control.

Carefully laid over a chair was the black jacket Cesare had gifted her with. Even in the darkness of the room it stood out as a black void in the light of the world. Caressing the cold fabric, she reveled in the liquid metal feel of the ebony folds. She’d never seen anything like it in all her years. The one time she’d asked Anastasia, the girl had turned wondering eyes on her own jacket, and said she’d never seen their like before.

That was only the first mystery of the jackets, she thought as her fingers traced the lioness on the back. She was majestic, a proud beast, a female predator glorying in the fullness of its strength, purity shining with a truth that couldn't be denied. It wasn’t chance that she'd gotten a lioness. He wasn’t like that, when he made a statement it was backed with all of his bitterly cruel calculation.

Woven of gold in all its shades, from frost white to cherry red, possessed of a soul, beauty and power captured in a living likeness that entranced anyone that looked at it. Like Alexandra, the lioness was caught between the savagery that sparkled in its eyes and the pureness of an animal. Wonderful, gorgeous, and magical, it was a gift second only to one, the ring he’d given her.

The threads of the lioness twisted around her faith, a private truth known only to Cesare and her. Christ was a lion, king of beasts, majestic, controlled power, prideful, and careless of the fact. Stilling her fingers over the smooth gold, she could hear the whispered message that ghosted through her heart born on Cesare's midnight voice.

That she was worthy to be a lioness of Christ, to be his bride until her Lord Husband came for her. No matter what others said or did, or what she thought of herself, Cesare believed she was worthy of god’s grace. It was more than anyone had ever given her. It was more than she'd ever given herself.

She knew what was happening to her, and yet, even stuck in the current she didn’t want to leave the rip tides lethal course. He was becoming more to her than anyone ever had. Exhilarating as agony birthed from tortured throats, a teasing caress barbed with steel, hooks parting flesh with selfish ease, he drew her into his umbra as his, and she lapped at the blood he suckled her on.

Sighing, she pushed the unworthy thoughts aside and gathered her clothes and the jacket. Walking down the hall, she passed the few early risers. Flinching away, they gave Alexandra a wide berth. She’d never liked it, the way people judged her on tales told in whispers. The parts of her that needed nourishing died in the desert of neglect, only the strong, cruel bits had survived the worlds fear.

She'd been born wrong, but the world had crafted that into a weapon, sculpting her with scalpels, slicing into the freak with grinning, eager eyes. Time had allowed her the luxury of seeing the start of the year as the abortion it had been. She’d wanted normal, the thing her family and people had denied. Friends, parties, the alien creatures that had played in others’ lives but died in hers. Fascinated at the needs that drove others, wistful for a life that was rotten before she’d killed her first child, it was a hunger unworthy of her. The failed plan had fallen apart in an orgy of violence, her truths tearing the illusion, revealing her psychotic glory.

In that clearing before the alter of her ancestors with only God to see, she’d thought about leaving like her brother Radu. Had been on the edge of it when Cesare came. He wasn't much, soft meat trying to escape the appetites of the monstrous. But he’d taken the time to support her when she was drowning, he’d lifted her head above the water even as his own had gone under. Had shown her she couldn’t hide under illusions, but she could own her truth.

A smile cut across her face at the memory as she opened the door to the bathroom, meeting the frightened eyes of a Third Year leaving. Stumbling back, the girl ducked her head, scurrying around Alexandra and away. The place always had people in it, talking, working on makeup, showering, doing each other’s hair, it was more social than anything she was used to.

Her eyes were drawn to the other figure standing alone in this sea of belonging. Taking care to drape her own ebony jacket along a chair before stepping into the shower. Anastasia always cut an impressive figure. Still beautiful, with the kind of body dreams were made of, even if her face had driven First Year’s to tears at first sight. A tormented landscape of the grotesque, she revolted men even as she inflamed their perversion with her aura, twisting desires into the depraved. She was an avatar of diseased need, cancerous lust given lush flesh. The scarring satisfied the pettiness of the other girls. Something in their souls taking glee in the beautiful girl turned pariah with only the schools joke as a friend.

Alexandra knew the truth. The akatharton’s beauty wasn’t gone, it was in stasis. She'd return to her former perfection, reborn like a maggot squirming in filth, harder, stronger, more refined than what she’d been before, owning the character to complement her supernatural beauty. Anastasia was a tortured figure of melted flesh and stomach turning deformity, it was a transition to something greater, deeper than the shallow beauty she'd possessed.

The attack would have broken anyone else, their soul maimed by the crippling of body, mind breaking under pain and humiliation. When Lady Kali wanted to take the girl back, Alexandra had thought it was best, but she’d underestimated Cesare. He'd taken the opportunity to build her stronger than ever. Tearing down her weaknesses, burning them away in a forge of his making. Polishing and honing her strengths into something greater than anyone but Alexandra and Lady Kali suspected. No, when Cesare was done with the girl that stepped into the shower under whispers of pity, she would be something akin to a goddess among the student body.

If Anastasia didn’t push him away before he finished the masterpiece. Alexandra could see what Cesare couldn’t, that Anastasia was desperately trying to put the attack behind her. She was like a drowning victim, so crazed for air they pushed the person saving them under before they could be saved.

Alexandra stepped into her own shower, thoughts whirling into a storm of blades in her mind. It was part of the reason she wanted Cesare to train her. She’d seen what he'd done with Anastasia, and if he could do that for his selfish princess, she knew he could make her into something that would honor God.

A dark part of her knew there was more to it than that. Anastasia was stunning, in her shadow Alexandra became a mannish, lumpy thing. Broad shoulders rippled with muscled strength as she washed herself angrily. Strong, competent hands calloused from years of weapons practice rough against soft places. She knew she was beautiful, but as Cesare said, hers was the beauty of a tiger or a sword. There was nothing soft about her body or soul. She was as hard as the steel she loved, and Anastasia was as soft as any man could want.

Stepping out of the shower, she felt the other’s eyes on her. She was sculpted flesh, power wedded to bone and meat. The few gladiators that were bigger were weighed down in flabby muscle, nothing next to her dense musculature, house cats pretending to be tigers. The thought stilled her with the towel slowly rubbing her hair dry.

Cesare had called her his fine blade. Seeing Anastasia brought it into crystal focus for Alexandra. The akatharton was beautiful, soft and voluptuous, the girl men dreamed of during the day and in dark sweaty nights. Her unholy flame had annihilated a werewolf in seconds but he couldn’t change her nature. Clever, gorgeous, wicked, she was a manipulator born with the serpentine tongue of Eve’s betrayer.

A smile tugged at Alexandra's lips as she realized that while Cesare was forging Anastasia into something stronger, he was doing the same to her. It was subtle, and excruciatingly truthful like the jacket. No matter what Alexandra had been when she'd come to this den of whoring heathens, she was more than that now. She looked at things with a mind changed, seeing angles instead of walls. That was due to her friendship with one man, her Lord.

Getting dressed, she slipped the jacket on with a reverence reserved for her weapons. Beautifully magical it was a priceless work of art, but it meant more to her than those base considerations. Cesare had given her an opportunity, one denied her race, forbidden to the baptized. No vampire had ever held a position of power in any school for the Umbrae Lunae. They were tolerated for their power, but their religion made them lepers.

Cesare had given her a gift her people had prayed for. The chance to prove their difference didn't make them the enemy of the moon shadows. This wasn’t just her time; it was a chance for the Order of the Dragon. Given to them because Cesare believed in her, the disgraced daughter of the Dragon.

She walked out of the Vulpes with her head held high, students shying away from her path. Alexandra didn’t expect to win acceptance for herself, a tiger in the skin of a person had not place with meat. She'd always be feared for being true to herself, her basic difference a blade against their necks, their lives hanging on her whim. But she could smooth the way for others of her kind that weren’t like her. Those closer to the norm than she'd ever be.

She’d never have their acceptance let alone friendship. At one time that fact had crippled her, parts of her breaking apart and dying under the butchering blades of societies revulsion. Things were different now. Because Cesare accepted her, cared for her, not for what he could get, but because he liked who she was. That had been more than enough to armor her against a world that wished she'd quietly die.

If that was all he'd given her, she would've been happy to call him friend. But then he'd changed, or she'd seen him for the truth he lived. She resonated when she was with him, soul quivering in response to his. They were two out of tune cords only making sense when together, hooks threaded flesh into wet muscle, bound to each other by stitches woven through the meat of their souls. She could no more pull away from him then Alexandra could skin herself. She didn’t need to hold back her instincts or pervert them into the civilized lies of others. She could glory in her madness, let its iridescent tide overtake her senses until the world was crimson flesh and God talked through gaping mouths twisted in mind rending agony. Somehow, Cesare's smile made it right, turning it into something more than an obscenity, under those savagely wild eyes she felt right for the first time.

Anastasia beat her to the Serpens Lacum, leaning against the serpent incrusted balustrade as solitary boys came down the stairs. The boys kept their eyes straight ahead despite the girl’s beauty, none of the children wanted to draw their attention. Anyone moving this early belonged to the weak, rodents scurrying around cats, hoping to go another day without being eaten. No matter how tantalizing the girls were, the boys knew the truth; they ate mice. Their hunger would always rule out, the nature of a beast the singular truth that pulsed through their souls.

Taking her spot, Alexandra pulled out her iPad and read her Bible passage for the day. That they waited for him every day had brought a flood of rumors, most of them of a perversely sexual bent. No one had been brave enough to say it to their faces, but they’d heard the crass comments calling them whores he mounted at his pleasure. For every time Alexandra heard the rumor, she'd heard a dozen that made Cesare their bitch. Boxed lunch, meat shield, dildo with a heartbeat, and other more degrading names swirling around him. No one really thought he controlled them; he was an ant riding the glory of grizzly bears.

Only they knew the truth. You waited for your boss; you didn’t make him wait for you. Cesare wasn’t only her friend; he was her Lord. She waited because he was worth waiting for. He was making her dreams come true. It was as profoundly simple as that.

She'd always inspired fear, the bastard brother of respect. But in the last few weeks people had started to respect her for more than her ability to butcher, that was Cesare's doing. Alexandra had a chance to show her people were more than their faith, that they had honor and integrity. To prove their faith was something beautiful that could gild the Umbrae Lunae. For the first time she could see a way to change the way Christ was seen by the Umbrae Lunae. For all that and more, she could show him the respect no one else would and wait for him.

Alexandra looked across at the Akatharton listening to her phone with oversized headphones. She was always listening to the same thing, Cesare. Every time they had free time, she pulled into herself with only Cesare’s voice to keep her company. Every time Alexandra watched Anastasia listen to Cesare with that expression on her face, it made the vampire’s hands ache for her ax.

Cesare didn't know Anastasia had the habit of walking around with him in her head. As soon as Cesare left their side, Alexandra would look over and see the akatharton slipping the headphones on over still growing ears. Alexandra wasn't going to tell him about the girl’s obsession with him, but it was one more thing that grated along Alexandra’s bones about the other girl.

If Alexandra owed Cesare, Anastasia was up to her tits in debt. If not for Cesare, there would be no Anastasia, not as the school knew her. The akatharton would've been gutted by the drekavac, all smiles, no substance. She wouldn’t be leading a rebel group fighting for student’s rights or known as the Lady of Ruin. Her dreams would be nothing more than tattered shadows charred by the light of reality. He'd guided, trained, and bled, to get her this far. It was his guidance that had made her more than a bit of fluff for guys to drool over. Cesare had been there when life had shredded her into strips of melting flesh, supporting, caring, and protecting his tortured princess.

Despite her debt, she'd betrayed him, and Alexandra knew she'd do it again. Anastasia's one true love was Anastasia, she was a selfish thing, others bit players in her world. Each abused thing they helped were skulls she used to build her profane pyramid of glory. Even in that, it was Cesare showing them what the weak needed and how to help them. They'd never been weak, an alligator couldn't understand the wildebeest, the ways of prey were beneath them.

Shaking her head, Alexandra threw off the thoughts, turning back to her Bible. Lost in the words of Christ, she was only lightly aware of the sun climbing above the trees. The boys streaming by them had never seen the two waiting before, hesitating on the top of the stairs, they exchanged uneasy looks. It was one thing to know there were grizzly bears and another to face them with only 10 feet between you.

Anastasia met Alexandra's eyes, concern tightening the melted wasteland. It wasn’t the worst thing Alexandra had seen, but it had taken a long time for the vampire to get used to the stomach turning sight. The melted skin dripped and ran in translucent valleys, angry veins, and destroyed flesh. Disturbingly vile, Alexandra cringed every time Cesare kissed that freakish landscape.