Atalanta looked around, eyes settling on the corridor of thorns and the narrow way between them. “We wondered where you wandered off too. You come here to train.” The words were quiet, layered with meaning. Alexandra’s eyes sharpened, fury condensing into insane rage.

“It was the only safe place,” Anastasia said, meeting the vampires incandescent eyes.

“It’s not our place.” Alexandra's words were a condemnation in their simplicity.

Breaking from the vampire’s intense stare, Anastasia faced Atalanta. “You said you spoke for the Scythians, and that they're willing to back the Furies.”

Pulling her eyes off the corridor of thorns with visible effort, Atalanta met Anastasia's eyes diffidently. “You know what I am.”

“I know what you are.” There was a weight to Anastasia's words that went beyond what was said.

“We should have been together in the Thagirion.” A snarl crawled across the girl’s face. “I should've been at your side, instead of watching limp dicks tear you down.” Ropes of corruption twisted under her skin, the beast writhing in the weak meat of its prison. Fists clenched in rage; a long moment passed before Atalanta mastered the abomination hiding under flesh.

“The Scythians have never endorsed the Thagirion, while they've had women as part of their group, they’ve never given them equal authority. If we didn't have a seat at the table, there was no point in backing them. We were divided on supporting you. Some thought backing you was the right, seeing you as the next wave. Others argued that it would be a waste of resources to back what amounted to a figurehead with little power. That’s no longer the case. The Scythians are prepared to endorse you fully.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Anastasia asked, eyes narrowing in speculation.

Gesturing at the girls that surrounded her, Atalanta didn’t hide her pride. “Each of these women are warriors, strong, pure, and loyal. They're the strongest the Scythians have to offer. Guards, soldiers, or shields, the Scythians are prepared to offer not just political backing but our bodies in pursuit of the Furies goals.” Atalanta stopped, letting her words settle into the girls.

“Of course, this is only a token. As leader of the Scythians on campus, I'll back you in every battle you fight with my sisters beside me. Politically, the sisterhood will mobilize our allies to pressure the alumni outside the school. Monetarily, we're willing to help outfit you as you deserve, and help fund any special projects.”

Cesare’s eyes widened at the offer. It was the kind of backing even the Thagirion didn’t enjoy. While they had the tacit approval of the gangs, none of the warring factions were willing to back them with soldiers or money. It would change everything; the dynamic of power shifting hard in the Furies favor.

“And what is the price for this backing?” Anastasia asked suspiciously.

“Get rid of the boy,” she said without hesitation, disregarding the tension that ratcheted up at her words. Almost as one, her tribe of fighters shifted, hands hovering over weapons, eyes narrowing at the sudden dangerous feel in the air.

“Cesare is one of the Furies.” Anastasia's words dropped into the sudden silence with the grace of a blade slipping between ribs.

“I know you care for him. At home, I have a horse I love. I’ve ridden that horse for hours, days even, groomed him, cared for him, cried in his mane, when I was young, it was my best friend. But I don’t mistake the horse for a person,” Atalanta said bluntly.

“Are you calling my Lord, an animal?” Alexandra stepped forward, her body a lethal warning to take care.

Eyeing the incensed vampire, Atalanta swallowed. “No, it was just an analogy. What I meant, is that he isn’t like us.” She looked at the girl, eyes shining with conviction. “No man can understand what it means to be a sister of war. We had to be twice as good as any man to get half the credit. What a man can walk to, a woman has to crawl over broken glass to touch. I know what you had to suffer to get here.”

Locking eyes with Anastasia, her words burned with passion. “I see the look in their eyes, I see the struggle you go through every day to be seen as a leader instead of a pair of tits. I see the despair you feel when they only follow your words because they want to fuck you. I know how much it cost's you to play the game, to use your sexuality as a weapon, when you should have their respect without it.”

Bracing herself, Atalanta faced the vampires towering insanity. “If you were a man, no one would care about your … otherness. You’d be an example of the power of Ares and the tradition of berserkers. It’s only because you’re a woman that they turn from you in fear, it’s only because you have a pussy that they shy away in disgust. There are people in the sisterhood that could help you.”

Alexandra's laugh was high and chilling in its crawling madness. “You want to help me?” Stepping forward, she grinned as the Scythians as a group stepped back in fear. “People have tried to help me since I could talk. You say you understand me, but you don’t. I see the fear in your eyes, the trembling you try to hide, the twitching of your hands for your blade as you face me.” Shaking her head, her voice dropped into a sing song. “The Order of the Dragon couldn't contain me. My father couldn't love me. Only one man has loved me, one man understands me, one man accepts me for the crazed thing I am. He doesn’t want to help me; he glories in who I am. And you want me turn my back on him?”

Atalanta swallowed, eyes darting between Anastasia and Alexandra. “He’s only using you.” The words seemed pulled from Atalanta, held in for so long they wouldn't be denied any longer. “He’s nothing compared to you. Without you, he'd be just another loser that pissed himself before school.” The tribe spread out, ready and willing to back Atalanta if this went sour.

“He's my Lord, not nothing. I belong to him as much as his knife, and could no more betray him than that knife,” Alexandra said, seeming to draw strength from her words, the madness slowly lifting from her eyes.

“You’re not a dog, you don’t belong to anyone,” Atalanta snarled. “We’re women, not animals. Just as good as any man, and a damn sight better than most. We're more than sleeves for cock.”

Alexandra swept her with an inquisitive look. “I'm sworn to God, I have given my body, mind, and soul up to him. I train my body, hone my mind, I exist as a weapon for God’s hand. I’m a Knight of the Order of the Dragon, dedicated unto death to serve the Grand Master for as long as he stays true to God. I will wed someday, and when I do, that man will become my Lord Husband. On that day, I'll give everything I have to him, mind, body, and soul. Yes, that means I will obey my Lord Husband as laid down by God.”

Alexandra considered Atalanta's disgust. “I'm already owned by God, the Order of the Dragon, and my Lord. To you, it seems like slavery, in this age were independence is glorified, a false idol to cure all ills. No one belongs to anyone; we're all special snowflakes drifting on the wind of destiny.” She snorted. “Christians know nothing's ever done alone. God is ever with us; mighty works need many hands. By surrendering to something greater than yourself, you gain serenity and power. Our surrender has conquered and forged a world, while the special snowflakes of paganism died alone in their independence.”

“You're saying the boy is greater than you?” Atalanta said, mouth twisted into a half sneer, her tribe watching Alexandra with a mixture of pity and loathing.

Serenely, Alexandra met their looks. “Is the hilt greater than the blade? While I belong to him, he belongs to me. I'm my Lords fine blade, but he is the hand that wields me. When he grasps me, I reach back and claim him. Together, we're greater than either of us are apart.”

“He will cast you aside someday.” Atalanta promised.

Anastasia's tinkling laugh shattered the tension. “I don’t agree with the owning thing, but your bat shit crazy if you think he'd leave her side. He’d cut off his own cock with a dull spoon before he’d let the psychopathic bitch go. He loves her more than he loves himself.” Pain threaded the words, but truth was always painful, its shine born in torture.

“You would turn down the Scythians for a bastard son of a beggar ...” Atalanta had gotten stupid. Alexandra disappeared, slamming the big woman onto her knees, gripping her throat in her steel hard hand.

Staring in shock at the speed, the Scythians were hammered by the knowledge that Alexandra was everything they'd feared. Strangling her slowly, Alexandra's words laced the air with promise. “You were warned. Cesare's my Lord, while I have blood in this body, you will not insult him.” Pinned on her knees, the gladiator couldn’t get to her weapons, but she was far from helpless.

A meaty fist rammed into Alexandra’s stomach with the power of a woman who’d been a dedicated devotee of iron. Not even a ripple marred the perfect pose of the vampire as she bore down on the girl. Panicking, Atalanta let fly with frantic punches. Matching her strength against the vampires, she was found wanting.

Steel flashed in the air as Atalanta’s friends drew blades. Somewhere between the gladiator training area and here, they’d changed from sticks to steel. Black as betrayal and as violating as grave dust on a lover’s lips, streams of stygian flame hit the blades. Hardened steel shattered, melting under a power older than the sun. Molten steel splashed the girls, ripping screams from them as it burned through leather and into skin.

“I don’t like the crazed bitch, but Cesare would lose his shit if I stood aside and let her get hurt.” Anastasia's hands were cloaked in caressing ebony flames, her eyes dark with naked malice. “Be very careful, we’re a long way from school, and all kinds of things can happen when you leave its well-worn paths.”

Eyeing each other uneasily, the Scythians knew it was death to draw steel on the vampire, even without Anastasia there. The chances of their group overpowering one of the Furies was a cockroach’s against a sledgehammer. But they couldn’t let the vampire kill their leader. Everything in them revolted at the thought of saving their own lives at Atalanta's expense.

Cesare stood as the battle reached the tipping point. He wasn’t going to let Anastasia become a mass murderer for this bunch of idiots. Who the hell threatens a killer when you can’t back it up? He carefully skipped the times when he’d done stupid.