He went through his plan as he walked across campus. Despite what he’d said to Elizabeth, this was a suicidal sundae coated in stupid. You didn’t poke Godzilla in the eye, or kick King Kong in the balls. It came down to Cesare having the nerve to do what no one had ever done; the sheer outrageousness of the act might buy him the seconds to pull the con. At least it sounded good in his head.

The Serpens Lacum was busier than he was used to. The students that filled the hall kept their distance, wary eyes tracking him as he passed. Cesare was an anomaly that defied classification, in their pressurized, savage world, that was more than enough reason to stay away. They were all skirting the edge of an abyss made of grades, teachers, and the predators that stalked the school’s shadows. No one needed to add an unknown to the mix. It wasn’t just that he was hated, no, he was a liability, and no one had a place on their lifeboat for a liability.

Everyone who was anyone was making their presence known. Golden ones danced cheerfully from light to light. They shared the same truth, powerful families with money and connections. Insulated in bubbles of protection, their futures were bought and paid for by parents. It was easy to pick them out, with their too wide smiles and laughing eyes, as if life was champagne and easy fucks. They formed small groups with exclusive memberships, protection, grades, and pleasures bought on the daily.

Even with them around, it was the Thagirion that dominated, by the simple fact of being the most dangerous men in the building. Blaez and Pantagruel held court in the main room, soaking up the adulation of the bottom feeders dancing attention on them. Abraxas sat alone in his corner, working on his homework. The dragon might prefer his room, but a person in his position couldn’t give the image of hiding away. If he wanted to lead, he had to be seen leading.

The crowds thinned as he climbed the stairs. Most of the boys were in the common room or relaxing in their friend’s rooms. He’d only been up to the top floor a few times, scouting out the land on the off chance he had to do what he was doing tonight.

He’d always known the Thagirion would have to be dealt with. They were too strong to face in a straight fight. That left him with only one choice if it came down to a final solution, an ambush. The best place to ambush was where the mark felt safest. For the students, that meant their rooms.

He’d kept it as a last resort in case things went off the rails, always planning to play by the rules as much as possible. Dirty tricks might win the game, but the victory would be tainted by a weasel’s musk. People would always wonder if you’d won because you deserved it, or if you’d just been sneakier. If Anastasia was going to build off what she won, she needed to be seen as the best. But Abraxas stepping outside the rules narrowed Cesare’s options.

As the private reserve for the Third Years, the top floor was deserted of students. Only the movers and shakers from the right families of Third Years made it this high. His switchblade slipped into the door jamb; the notch he’d made the last time he was here fitting the blade like a glove. With a jerk, the lock snapped open. A slash of a smile crossed Cesare’s face as he ducked into the room. Cockroaches always found a way to be where they weren’t wanted.

The snake’s room hadn’t changed. Severe and barren, it had echoes of Cesare’s. But the differences overshadowed anything that tied them together. A bedspread of hand stitched black silk and sumptuous velvet glowed with dark radiance in the fading light of the moon. Artfully arranged pillows of plush sable silk sat at the head of the bed. An oak desk sat with casual elegance against the wall, clear of clutter, it waited for its master to come and claim his throne.

Running his hands over the grain of the oak desk, Cesare swept the room for anything that might trip up the plan. The sterile neatness of the room was a problem. Why couldn’t the guy be like every other teenager and live in his own filth?

Taking out the bombs, he started picking out places to lay them. There wasn’t a lot of choices, but the bedspread and pillows would get some love with the desk making for nice shrapnel. He was in and out in less than five minutes, his switchblade locking the door back in place as if he’d never come.

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A bare ten minutes later, and he was laying down on his bed waiting for the apocalypse. A trap was a thing built for a future but placed in the past, a kind of prophecy born sickly and uncertain. It was a little over two hours by his clock when three precise knocks shivered the wood of the door.

Coming out of bed, Cesare tucked the switchblade along his forearm. It wouldn’t save him or even buy him a minute of life, but it wasn’t about that. If Cesare was going down, he’d do it with his blade in the dragon’s belly, probing for his guts. There was a principle about not slipping into the final dark, one last time to spit in life's eye for being a bastard son of a whore.

Pulling the door open, Cesare turned his back on the dragon as he walked back to his bed, a subtle show of disrespect. It wouldn’t matter if he was facing the dragon or running away. If Abraxas wanted him dead, he’d be dead.

The door shut behind the black man with a click. His Thagirion jacket hung limply from broad shoulders, the black on black suit he wore a tapestry of midnights shades. The jacket was a symbol of power but of coarser material than his tailored suit. Everything from exposed skin to the opulent fabric of his suit glittered and shone with purple sparkles. From the look of it, Cesare had gotten a damn good dispersion of the little bastards.

The dragon’s words were calm with condensed fury. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?”

Laying down with his head on his pillow, Cesare kept his eyes on the dragon as he relaxed. Appearance was everything in negotiation. It didn’t matter if he was scared, only if the snake could see it. “Four reasons. Alexandra, Anastasia, Miss Raven, and Lady Kali, I made sure they knew the plan. Kill me, and you murdered for a prank. Even for a special snowflake, that’s more trouble than your worth.”

Chips of obsidian locked on him as the creature took long minutes to take in Cesare’s words. A subtle relaxing of its shoulders was the tell Cesare was looking for. That was the dragon’s greatest strength and his damning weakness. Fury, anger, rage, and especially hate, where the blessings of life, they pushed you when you had nothing left to give. A man was defined by what he hated, what he’d kill for was what he’d die for. A man who didn’t know how to hate couldn’t know how to love.

“I assume you did this with a point in mind,” Abraxas stated.

“An explosion in the open is lethal, but when confined, that lethality is exponential. The blast wave, fragmentation, and explosive force are intensified when compressed. Multiple explosions create overlapping blast waves, thousands of possibilities for fragmentation. Our rooms for instance, if a person were to place several bombs made of Semtex lined with flechettes, the man would be hamburger within less than a second. Certainly faster than a creature could raise a defense,” Cesare said, holding the dragon's suddenly cold eyes.

“You’re threatening me?” Abraxas asked conversationally. “I could kill you. Snap your neck, strangle you, burn you alive, the list extends beyond knowing.”

Shrugging, Cesare gave a short laugh. “We’ve already covered consequences, if you were going to do it, I wouldn’t be here,” Cesare said, gratified his words sounded calm and in control. “I’ve played by your rules. But if you color outside the lines, I’ll treat the Thagirion as targets of opportunity, taking them wherever and whenever I can.”

Standing still, the thing watched Cesare with eyes as black as a dry well. “This is about Anastasia and the books?”

“Anastasia’s mine. You fuck with her and you’re fucking with me. This minor episode humiliated her in front of the school and threatened her chances at the life she wants. I won’t allow that.”

Abraxas stilled, its reptile mind turning over Cesare’s words. Tonight had been nothing more than a demonstration of intent. An unveiling of the fact that Cesare was bound to the rules of engagement by the thinnest of threads, once he no longer felt chained by those conventions, Abraxas would be extinguished. The dragon wasn’t Blaez; it knew when it came to sneaky it was outclassed by a person who’d lived on his wits alone.

“I will hold off on any extracurricular attacks,” Abraxas conceded.

Cesare nodded, reaching out he took a small remote off the stand and tossed it to the dragon. “Under your mattress are four claymore mines. That’s the detonator, I’d be careful in how you dispose of them.” Fear raced through the dragon’s eyes before chilling into cold practicality. “If you hadn’t agreed, you’d be dead within the hour.”

“That kind of explosion would have killed more than just me,” Abraxas said carefully.

Cesare looked at the dragon indifferently. “They’re nothing more than bugs waiting to be stepped on, who cares if that’s today or tomorrow. The only people who mean anything to me don’t sleep here.”

Smiling, the dragon tipped his head in appreciation. “If you were from a worthy race, I’d be honored to call you a friend. As you’re not, I will take great satisfaction when I’ve killed you. But an agreement was made, I will abide by the rules as long as you do.”