He’d only taken a few steps before Nzinga’s bulk blocked his way. Glaring down at him, a ripple of corruption ran through her skin as she struggled to keep her form from warping.
“Nzinga.” The warning was lightly given but came with unstoppable power. The Boudareluctantly pulled her eyes off Cesare to look at her mistress.
“Lady, this could mean …” The large woman started, a pleading note in her voice.
Kali cut softly over the woman's words. “I know very well what this could mean, but I won’t have you intimidating my friends or attempting to strong arm them. Cesare isn’t the type to respond to that regardless. Stand down.” The last came with the softness of deaths touch, implacable and utterly unchanging in its mastery.
Bowing her head, the Bouda stepped aside. Cesare let his eyes settle on the monster for a second before entering the circle of the harem. No matter what he’d said, he could tell things had shifted. Alexandra and Elizabeth stayed close, keeping Kali from getting back into his arms.
Kali waited until the group was in the corridor before looking at her daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Shrugging helplessly, Anastasia met her mother’s furious eyes. “I didn’t know it was that big of a deal. So, he talks to wolves, you see documentaries on guys talking to dogs and horses, cool but not worth more than that. Is it that big of a thing?”
Shaking her head, Kali eyed Cesare for a long moment. “It all depends on if it’s a gift or a fluke. Those they called charlatans had limited success that was written off as chance. If Cesare can repeat it reliably …” She looked away, lost in thought.
“Long ago before the Cleansing War my people had a god.” Nzinga’s low voice was deep with longing. “He shaped us out of wild animals and human forms, balanced and beautiful, the other gods marveled at his creation. We were the crowning achievement of a god that knew no equal. Prideful and arrogant, we gloried in our perfection. When the time came to exterminate the vermin known as humanity, we joined the side of the Umbrae Lunae … against our gods wishes.” She stopped, swallowing heavily.
“We lost. Not just the war, although that was bad enough, no, when it was all over, our God cast us aside. It was the Sundering. Slowly, we lost the balance that had always kept our natures pure. Humanities corruption set in, and we became debased and separated from our wild core. Since the Sundering we have been … less … than what we were.” Nzinga words echoed with sorrow, the tragedy of a people who had lost what made them who they were.
“If Cesare can talk to the Beast … he could heal the Sundering one person at a time. Help us find the balance again and stop the plague of the Occidere Rabidus,” Nzinga said quietly, eyes pulled inexorably to Cesare.
“More than likely they'd take him by force so he could help those that pledged their allegiance to them. There are many factions that would use his power to birth an Imperium of Na’wal,” Kali said grimly. “Either way, I don’t think Cesare has any interest in being a savior, even if he could replicate it.”
Unsurprisingly, Cesare didn’t feel any need to rush to the rescue of a bunch of psychotic killers with a penchant for licking their balls. He didn’t see what the big deal was, any of them could've done the same. It wasn’t his problem they hadn’t found the empathy to love themselves.
They split up outside school, the women needing to get ready for the ball. Taking his time, Cesare wandered along the paths of the campus, watching the relaxing students that soaked up the sun and the promise of a weekend. Laughing and joking with each other, they had nowhere to be because none of them were going to the ball.
Only the privileged few born to connected families would have invitations, and none were going to crash it like he did. Out of that handful, only a few had any real power at Primrose. Most students swam in the aquarium without any control over the change’s others made. The student body was good with that. They couldn’t care less about the future of the school or the mandates of the powerful.
They cared about simple things, good grades, parents turning a blind eye to drinking, and the chance to get a piece of ass. Content in their little worlds of small challenges with a helping hand always hovering over them, they lived a life of ease even if they'd never look at it that way.
Walking into the Serpens Lacum, he met the sidelong looks. Everyone knew he escorted Kali to the ball. While they didn’t know the reason why she’d want him, she was long past the time when anyone could question her. It didn’t stop the gossip; the last time he’d heard they'd settled on Cesare being a pet like an ugly lap dog.
This early in the day, the bathroom was almost empty with only a few stragglers coming and going. With a longing look at the bath, Cesare condemned himself to the shower. At night in the silent darkness, he could take off his clothes and enjoy the hot, obsidian waters of the large bathtub. But with people around, he wasn’t going to show his scars for them to stare at.
Standing under the hot spray, he let his head fall forward, mind settling into the well worn grooves of the fight tomorrow. The werewolf's didn’t rate a thought when matched against the fight. Cesare was as ready as he could be, but it was a long shot. One strike. One thrust. That was all he had.
Turning off the shower, he got dressed in the stall, slipping on sweats and a loose long sleeved shirt. He’d learned the hard way that getting dressed in a wet shower didn’t work out. He’d wait until he got back to his room to dry off and get dressed in his school uniform.
Brushing his wet hair back, he traced the lines of his new face in the mirror, still unused Beth’s mangling of flesh. His face was too starved to ever be handsome, cruel angles carving his face into a thing of edges. Blue eyes sunken deep and shadowed by thick lashes gave him a withdrawn, hard look. It was the face of a man that hadn’t been dragged through hell so much as walked into it. He’d taken the torment into himself, made it part of him, embraced the broken misery of his life, luxuriated in the shards of his souls that ground against each other.
It didn’t take him long to get dressed and head out of the Serpens Lacum. Wandering the campus, he made his way slowly to the willow tree. Leaning back on the bench under the weeping tree, Cesare gave a sigh of contentment. If tonight held true to the past, Kali would pick him up with the others meeting them at the Cathedral Illumines. Kali had to meet certain expectations, and one of those was coming to the ball fashionably late.
As sunset tainted the sky, she came along the path, dark shadows arrayed around her with Nzinga in the front. Even after the talk, the big woman’s feverish eyes latched onto Cesare. It was easier to deal with the glares of distaste and disgust from the rest of the harem. They’d never liked him, and today hadn't changed that. There was a comfort in being hated. Steady and true, it was pure in a way love could never be.
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Kali walked out from between the harem’s shadows. Her dress was a green that was almost black, shifting along the spectrum with the light. Hugging her body, it showed off rounded hips and small breasts, elegantly displaying her lithe, supple form. Porcelain skin shone through the slit up the side, sure to rival the moon when night truly fell. Her hair fell in a ribbon of sable down her bare back to the edge of her butt, two rogue bangs of purple hair framing her face, almond eyes dancing with dark flame.
Cesare held out his arm as she’d taught him. “You look ravishing,” he said quietly as her arm linked with his.
“I thought I’d pick something special given the occasion,” she said before turning her eyes away as if caught speaking out of turn. “You look your usual handsome self.”
Laughing ruefully, Cesare noticed the black heels she wore under the dress and kept to an easy pace. “Now I know you want something; no one would call me handsome.”
She watched him as the sun died and darkness swept across the campus turning shadows into oceans of black. The change brought a sudden loosening of the tension in Cesare, the night had always been a safer place for him.
“You'll never be pretty,” Kali said in velvet soft agreement. “You don’t have the cultured looks of the men I usually talk to, or the beauty of the boy toys that are so popular in today’s time. But your look is yours, brutal, savage, and honest. You carry your hate on your sleeve, and dare the world to prove you wrong.”
Running a hand through his hair, she leaned in, hot lips branding his in a slow kiss. “You won’t ever be everyone’s cup of tea, too bitter and primitive for most. The things that scare the weak away are what draw the strong to you.”
“You're crazy.” A reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
Shrugging, she studied him with a smirk. “When you’re rich and powerful, it’s not crazy, it's eccentric.” Cesare laughed as he helped her up the stairs and into the school.
Cesare stopped on the threshold of the Cathedral Luminis, waiting for the mass to turn and acknowledge Kali's entrance. Incandescent monsters of crystal glared down at the meaty worms wiggling below. Diamond sharp, they cut and honed the light, casting shafts of green, blue, and red across the ball room. The great chandelier picked up the fractured light, gathering and shedding it in rainbow colors. It was a great torture chamber, where light was butchered for the pleasure of the waiting masses who cared nothing for its agony.
A ripple ran through the crowd in a bow to Kali, awed faces reflected in the white marble under their feet. Kali watched with a distant look, a thin skim of distaste running under the surface. “It's always the same. Centuries pass, but people, petty, grasping, and needy, they remain the same. I’ve seen them all before, in other bodies and other times, but they’re the same under the skin.” She stepped forward, unfreezing the room, the massed people slowly straightening.
“You don’t notice the first centuries. It’s new and dazzling, you treasure the short-lived ones. Then you start to see the same thing over and over again. Love, loss, hate, need, they shape people all the same, like some mad carver that can only ever see one form. They become mayfly’s, insects that die by the thousands and are birthed as quickly.” She looked at him with a light in her eyes both comforting and frightening. “That’s why I like you, you’re different.”
Cesare noticed the others making for them from distant points of the room. “Until you grow bored,” Cesare said, looking back at Kali. “I’m a novelty, nothing more. Like every novelty, my shine will rub off showing the cheap plastic underneath. When that time comes, you’ll find someone else that’s new.”
“Is that what you think? Maybe you mean more to me than you know. Maybe I love you,” Kali said, eyes cooling.
Cesare smiled slightly. “I wish you did. But you don’t, no one does. Alexandra's farther than any of you, but even she'd rip my heart out for people who treat her like shit. That’s not love, it's not even friendship.” Cesare looked away from Kali's stricken eyes, measuring the distance between himself and the others. “You don’t love me. I'm a fun bit of fluff not worth putting flesh in the game for. Commitment's the only measure of love, the person that stays with you through your worst mistakes, that loves you despite you fucking them over and bleeding them dry, that picks you up and kisses you when you’ve fallen. That’s love. I'll never be worth that too you.”
Kali watched him silently as the others entered the circle of her harem's protection. There wasn’t anything that could be said, it was true. The shock was that Cesare had said it, not the facts. He proved he was different by saying what no one would. She was a dream maker surrounded by self-serving liars. They pandered, connived, flattered and lied, because their desires drove them to it. Honesty was the ugly hick cousin of truth, always on the cusp of offending while the lie was loved.
“I can’t believe you invited them?” Alexandra hissed, low and dangerous, glaring at Anastasia.
The akatharton grimaced. “They’re our supporters.”
“They’ll never be anything more than the people who hunted my Lord and got away with it. Some of us know what it means to be loyal,” Alexandra said, eyes sliding away from Anastasia.
Frowning, Cesare looked behind Anastasia, picking out the familiar faces of the Scythians. They didn't try to push into the circle, happy to be in the orbit of the goddess they revered. Close enough to be allies but not so close to be friends.
The mangled girls had their mothers with them. They’d worn black dresses that were as simple as they were elegant. Small straps ran over muscled shoulders, black trenches carved into arms flowing over and around the women’s physique, the scarification seeming to move with a life of its own. Beautiful in an ancient, unbreakable way, the marks were more than decoration, works of art sliced into the meat of the body, talismans that held a meaning for the initiated.
The scars were eerily similar between mother and daughter, giving an impression he was looking at three distinct groups bound by the name Scythian. Chokers of raw horse hide wound around their necks, holding lone pendants. Atalanta and her mother had a pitted rock of black, the serpents shared an arrowhead of silver, while the simian duo sported silver feathers.
Cesare looked over at Anastasia in question. He was willing to give the girl the benefit of the doubt, but that didn’t stop the surge of pure hate that poured molten and vicious through his veins. They’d hunted him, scarred him, he'd be dog shit if they'd gotten what they wanted, there was no coming back from that.
Anastasia held his eyes. “You gave them to us. They’re useless if we don’t show the alliance, it isn’t enough to tell them, they have to see it.” She looked around. “Everyone that's anyone's here, if you want us to really change things, these are the people we need to impress.”
Cesare nodded, glaring at the Scythians. “Keep them away from me.” They’d hunted him across campus and almost killed him, he'd chained them into an alliance because of need. It would be idiotic to throw away by hiding the alliance from the powers that mattered.
Worry tightened her lips, but Anastasia didn’t offer to make the Scythians leave. She craved power, and she'd sacrifice whatever she needed to get it. As long as he wasn’t completely against the idea, she'd go with it. Anastasia needed Cesare, but she didn’t need him happy. It was the same game she’d played with Blaez. If she could have both, why give up either?
They fell into their roles. Anastasia moving away from the nexus of Kali’s power. This was the perfect time for her to meet and greet the other powers of the school, her ravaged looks gave her a perverse charm unlike the beauty she’d owned before. It called to them all the same, her charm hooked them with barbed steel, wiggle all they wanted, she’d own them. It helped that her Hareb Serapel powers honed the edge of her natural charisma, manipulating emotions into what she wanted, enslaving them to her will.
Moving through the room, she pulled people into her influence with the ease of a black hole. Witty, charming, and beautiful, she didn’t need to break into the clicks of the powerful, they invited her with open arms. She knew exactly what she was doing, whether it was taking advantage of her pulsing sexual aura or never forgetting a name, she was lovely, irresistible, manipulation in the raw. They knew she was using them, and they loved her for it.
Alexandra had her own obligations to meet with those allied to the Oder. She wasn’t the one that made them feel comfortable, no, she was a threat clothed in flesh. The vampire’s presence was a reminder of the price of going back on the deals they’d made.
Elizabeth stayed close, she didn’t have any friends, and no one here was interested in talking to a Chthonicunless forced to. It helped that she had a long association with Kali. As the women focused on each other, Cesare slipped out from the cordon the harem had erected without either noticing.