The dark start to the day faded as Cesare worked his ass off. The flower beds were already filling with perennials but there was more than enough space for shorter lived ones. That wasn’t by chance. Elizabeth loved to see her friends come up year after year, but she enjoyed those that only bloomed for a short time too. There was something magical about them, flushed with life for a short summer until autumn stripped them of beauty.

Working the soil with a pickax, Cesare loosened the dirt before going over the area with a rake to get the plants and weeds out of it. Elizabeth came up with a barrel of plants already in bloom, ready to go into the ground. With unholy eagerness, she went to work on her hands and knees, getting the small ones into their new homes where they’d live out pampered, if brief lives.

Sweat poured down Cesare’s face, shirt clining to his body, molding over whip cord muscle, showing the faint ridges where scars dotted his frame. Pushing wet hair back with dirty hands, he collected it into a short pony tail. It wasn’t long, just brushing his shoulders. His eyes rested happily on Elizabeth as she scooted across the ground.

He loved her, he’d known that for a long time now, seeing her enthralled with her plants only drove the point into the soft spots under the callouses. It wasn’t just that fat bottom that moved from side to side, or her fey beauty. What drove him was who she was, Elizabeth was good and true, solid and uncomplicated in a way that eased some of the ragged edges of his soul. In all the ways that counted, she was better than him, nicer, kinder, smarter, and stronger. He would never have her, but he couldn’t kill the dream, no matter how many times it cut him.

Wasn’t that what dreams were? Something you couldn’t give up, no matter how much blood they spilled. A vision that drove you mad with desire, inflamed your heart and soul until you'd do anything for it. Woman, power, love, success, they were just words. Dreams were looking into the face of a woman you longed to touch, knowing she’d recoil at the brush of your fingers. Dreams were horrible things, greater than demons or gods, they tormented and twisted, tortured and laughed, maimed and crippled. Yet no man existed without a few of the vicious little things burrowing in their flesh.

They found a spot by the willow tree for lunch. The sad, almost sorrowful strands of the willow were as familiar as old pain. In quiet voices that were only for each other, they talked about the week, or at least Elizabeth talked and Cesare listened.

She'd stop in the middle, a shy look coming over her as she waited for permission to continue. Because he understood, he’d smile and ask a question to get her started again. It was part of what drew them together, no one had cared what he’d had to say either. It was still strange to have people wanting to talk to him when for so long they’d crossed the street to avoid him.

Each smile was a small shadow against the burning light of her past. The better your life was, the happier you were, the more you had to lose. She’d learned that the hard way, every time she thought things would get better, they’d gotten worse. Betrayal, heartbreak, and loneliness were old friends, tried and true. Happiness, warmth, friendship, and love, alien things sparkling with illusions lies.

He wouldn’t be her lover, never look over and see her face reflected in the moonlight as they cuddled. She’d never look to him when she wanted something hot and steamy in bed or ask him to help her with the bills. He could never hold her heart, that was for some lucky woman yet to be seen. But he could be her friend, he could shelter her in his cool darkness. Fight the demons of self-hate and disgust that warped her darkling light.

After lunch, Elizabeth eagerly started the job of getting the rest of the flower beds done. Reluctantly, Cesare went back to work with the pickax. As the day got long, Cesare’s back ached and burned with pain. The rake got heavier and heavier, the soil harder to break up. Sweat moved in rivers down his back and slicked his face.

“I think that’s it for the day,” Elizabeth called out from behind him. Grounding the rake into the ground, Cesare let out a slow, shuddering sigh of relief. Yesterday had sucked, but today had almost killed him. “We’ll have to tackle the rest of them next week.”

Wearily, Cesare took in the older woman. Every time they did this he came off looking like he’d been dragged over a mile of bad road and she looked gorgeous. Beside a few smudges on the knees of her pants, she was as fresh as when they'd started. Her face was flushed with pleasure, hair tied back in a loose braid. A flowing green t-shirt hid her curves, only revealing her in unpredictable moments.

Quirking an eyebrow, she gave him a wry look. “You going to pack up the tools or stare?” The dry words were paired with a knowing smile.

“I was kinda hoping to do both,” Cesare said, meeting her eyes without a token effort to hide his appreciation. Blushing, she broke the intense stare first.

They reached the cabin in the failing rays of the sun. Putting the tools away, Cesare smiled as he watched Elizabeth walk with easy familiarity to her tea cabinet. Black as new sin, the cabinet was one thing he never touched. Runes the color of old blood flowed up the cabinet’s sides, each pulsing in alien wrath. Twisting at the edge of sight, the symbols delved into the insanity that lurked beyond the understanding of man. Conduits of power, they pulled from dimensions were life was strange and impossibly old, beyond the ken of man.

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Cesare racked the last tool onto its hooks before taking his seat at the table. The chess board was set, and his tea waited in its serpent cup, a low thread of steam twisting from the stygian liquid. Elizabeth turned out the lights, shadows flooded into the room with the sovereignty of night. Only the single candle on the table broke the pure ebony waters.

Elizabeth moved her white pawn with a definite click. “Cerberus.” The name filled the room as if even the word would menace Cesare. “Even if you beat the Thagirion, you'll have lost control of a powerful gang.”

“I won’t be able to control Cerberus how the Thagirion does,” Cesare corrected, moving a black pawn to check her advance. “They use a war hammer to crack a walnut, it’s a child’s use of power. We can take the Thagirion, all they have is Abraxas and Blaez. The wolf’s broken, he’ll step aside if I tell him to. But if the gangs back them, they'll maintain a good portion of their power. I need to break that power base before cracking the dragon.”

Her dark eyes studied him across the board as she sipped her tea. “You think you can win against Abraxas?” she said doubtfully.

Frowning, Cesare measured his words. “It was always going to come down to me or him. If I play it right, I’ll win either way.” Taking up his bishop, Cesare moved him onto the field of battle. “If I’ve already broken their power and stripped them of support, then there's no way Abraxas can win. If he kills me, it proves the Thagirion were always predators raping the weak. If I win, the Furies will be the ones that liberated the school. It’s a win either way, but only if I cut their support out from under them.”

Cesare looked up from the board and met Elizabeth’s stricken eyes. “That’s always been in the cards, my death doesn’t matter if I secure a future for the girls.”

Understanding dawned in Elizabeth’s eyes. “That’s why you’re giving Cerberus what they want. They’ll leave Alexandra alone for fear of losing it.”

Nodding, Cesare smiled slowly. “It will secure Alexandra’s future. Cerberus will have everything to lose and nothing to gain by attacking her. In fact, they’ll back her for the single reason that her star will be on the rise.”

Elizabeth was silent as they played, eyes locked on the board. Cesare knew she taking his words apart, looking for the truth hidden between syllables. Of all the woman, she was the smartest, certainly sharper than he’d ever be. It was only a matter of time before she hit the bedrock of his plan.

“You expect to die.” The flat words dropped into the comfortable silence, cracking and shattering the peace of the room. Setting her rook down, her eyes glittered with cutting insight.

Cesare sipped his tea. “I’d need a surprise attack under ideal circumstances to beat Abraxas. Even then its iffy. If I attack him that way, I might win the fight, but I’ll lose the war. I can prepare for the fight, and make him work for it, but I’ll never win.”

“Why stay?” Elizabeth's voice was unsteady, shadowed by fear. “You needed to be here at one time. But that time's passed.”

Rolling the cup in his hand meditatively, Cesare felt her words slither through his mind. He’d thought over the same question more than once. The truth was as simple as it was devastating. “Everything I love is here.” Sorrow sharpened her eyes into a keen blade that cut the soul that birthed it. “I don’t pity a man who dies for what he loves. I pity the man who loves nothing worth dying for.”

The things he loved were the things demanding he bleed and die. It would have been tragic if it wasn’t common, the things we love birth the sweetest torture and the most horrific ecstasy.

They were a lot alike, but when light struck them burning through flesh and soul, they'd chosen separate paths. When life scarred you beyond repair and you were alone in the miserable sewer of your existence, you had two choices. To fold up and hunker down, covering the bleeding lacerations across your soul, snarling at anything that crossed your path.

Or you could decide that you were worthless. That it wasn’t the world that was wrong, it was that you didn’t matter. Less than others, a thing only good for what you brought to the table. There was no value to Cesare, he was common. So ordinary it didn’t matter if he was broken, no one cried over a bent nail because nails were cheap. That was Cesare, worth nothing except what he could do for others. The one thing Cesare could decide was what board he was nailed into.

Elizabeth understood what it was to live inside his skin. She’d chosen to stop opening, shutting tight, refusing to let anyone in, only engaging in the most superficial of relationships. She knew she was worth more than how people treated her. Elizabeth blamed the world, and Cesare blamed himself.

Finishing the last game, Cesare drained his tea. With a last goodbye he slipped into the night. He knew his thoughts were evil, on his good days he could admit they were feelings not reality. But that didn’t change them, those feelings were branded into his bones. Humiliation had his attentive father, degradation an ever-present mother, they'd molded him into what he was. If there was a time when he didn’t feel like nothing, it had died so long ago even its grave had disappeared.

The cabin was as far from the school as it could be and still be on campus. It was an island few knew about and even fewer cared. Following the forest was the long way to the Serpens Lacum, you’d get there, but you sure wouldn’t be on time. He’d only taken it once and had ended up running for most of the way, barely squeaking in before the dorm locked.

The horn sounded from the direction of the cabin, a low, base note that thrummed through the night air. A part of Cesare, something small and scared perked up, frantically looking around in alarm. Stopping, his legs flexed in readiness. He’d never heard one, but he could place it with the care of a man born as prey. A hunting horn.

A long note sounded from in front of him, another coming from his left. Hunting horns were used to triangulate the position of hunters. They sounded the horn to let everyone know the hunt was on, it was the way they closed the noose around the fox’s neck.