𝖙𝖜𝖔

The knock on his office door came late. Not while the chattering voices of students on the paths below nailed into his skull, but in the hours of creeping darkness when only the soft amber updraft of streetlights crept through his office window, and Cain worked by the light splashing across the desk from the lamp.

His eyes ached from squinting at miniscule text, because god only knew why but whichever imbecile who'd written this dusty old cipher had decided that not only did Cain have to decipher the most convoluted Old English he'd ever encountered to work out what the bloody hell the prat was saying about Resisteing Magickal Corruption Moste Fierce, he also had to put his nose to the bloody page to read a single damn word.

Honestly, if the fool author had still been alive, Cain would've first, torn his mind apart for whatever cryptic knowledge he'd hidden in this waffle, and second, jammed his hand down the twat's throat to rip out his lungs.

As it went, all he could do was hurl the bloody thing out the window and hope it cracked someone's skull open, but the knock on the door saved him the chagrin of facing his own temper in broken glass and the long trip outside to retrieve it.

Cain slammed the book shut and leant back into the old leather chair, wincing at its creaking bones as he rubbed the tension out of the bridge of his nose. Count to ten, Cain. Does you no good getting another warning for turning one of these little twats into a slug. Whoever decided seeking your own knowledge and power came with the obligation of palming it off students who couldn't give a crap about the finer differences between flavours of Universal Energy also deserved feeling Cain's hand down their throat clawing out their lungs.

One day. One fucking day he'd be better than this.

One last calming breath and Cain lowered his hands, elbows on the firm wooden arms of his chair and his head resting on the tips of his fingers.

He flicked his finger, and a burst of air within the door latch forced it free. Another gust full of blackened air pulled it swinging inward.

Casper Black stood in the doorway, and as he took in Cain still idle in his chair, a grin made of sharp edges bloomed across his full lips. A strange stir of anticipation went through Cain's gut seeing him there, no matter that he'd been expecting – no, goading this visit for weeks. The way the boy skulked inside when Cain crooked his fingers felt like some form of advent. A beginning, if not of something brilliant then at least of a new game.

Casper's features, lit by the corridor, slid into shadow as he crept into the darkness like he plunged into black water.

Cain guided the door shut on another breeze, and he made sure the boy heard the lock click.

"Welcome." Cain tipped two fingers at the chair opposite. "Do sit."

The showing of teeth didn't fade as Casper eased himself into the hard, upright chair opposite, and Cain took a moment to trace his features for anything hidden behind the ghoulish turn. The desk lamp glinted off Casper's teeth, and the brightness only highlighted the dark pit where two were missing on the left side.

How had he lost them? It presented Cain a new possibility to turn over in his mind, placing the scars aside for bruised lips and thick clots of blood oozing over his chin while he laughed.

Casper's voice put it all out of mind. Deep, hoarse, the way it cracked around each word. How could one boy be built of so many promises of violence and dark secrets?

"Are you gonna stare at me all evening, or are you gonna ask why I'm here?"

Interesting. Most students developed a stutter around Cain, and if they didn't have one at the beginning, they came in with foolhardy self-elevation and gained one by the end. He let a smirk curl one corner of his mouth.

"I wasn't aware I indicated that I was interested. I'm hardly going to exert myself to discover your problems."

"It's not a problem." Casper shifted in his seat, and seemed to sit a bit higher once he settled. "I guess it's an academic question."

Cain debated slipping into the boy's mind to see if he could dredge up what he was thinking, but he'd discovered a long time ago that it made things boring rather quickly. That glint in Casper's dark eyes and the late hour told Cain all he needed to know.

"Confused about Daud's Law of Misplaced Energy?"

Instead of bristling at the slow, mocking tone Cain adopted, a false innocence widened Casper's eyes. It went pleasingly with the rasping sarcasm in his voice. Especially when the praise that rung so true to the way the boy spent the lectures hanging to Cain's every word. "Oh, I'm not sure how anyone could be, Professor. Not with how well you teach it. My old Physical lecturer never really liked talking about leeching from unwilling mages."

Cain clucked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head even as he let his smile widen. "I can't imagine she did. After all, I only teach it because you're all such high-level mages that someone ought to warn you about the risks of long-term mutation. I shouldn't want such impressionable young people suffering so for such an unreliable ideal."

"It's interesting though, right? You can expand your own potential 'til you're a god, theoretically, but when you start bringing energy from outside in – suddenly all this stuff starts going fucked up. How come magic revolts so badly when it's not yours? There's no evidence of us leaving differentiable imprints on our energy, so why is it different when we start to game the system?"

Delightful. So, the boy wasn't just enamoured by corruption, his taste lay in power. Cogs ticked behind that scarred face, lips twitching around thoughts, and Cain waited, a single finger tapping against his cheek.

"You know, the funny thing about burning out and cell mutation, Professor..." No matter the coy innocence, Casper's eyes cut. The intent was cradled in every shadowed hollow of his face, and the serpentine way he tilted his head. "The funny thing is, it's almost like magic's way of keeping us all in line. When you look at Daud's Law of Misplaced Energy without accelerated burnout then—"

"Why, Casper, it almost sounds as if you've forgotten when I cautioned you all so thoroughly against excessive use of Augmentation."

Now a bite came into Casper's smile. "It's a little hard to remember, Professor"—Casper's tongue curled around that word like an oath to sin—"seeing as it was such a footnote to your discussion of relating mutational torque to the law of perpetual motion."

"I should have thought the image alone would have been enough to warn you off."

Casper shrugged. Slouching forward, he toyed with a pen on the edge of Cain's desk. His fingers moved dextrously, but under the light, his knuckles were scabbed and bruised, the skin around his nails dry, ragged. Cain itched to snare his hand, press his thumb into the bruises and watch him wince. Dig into the knuckle and with his fingers curled around Casper's, pull it back until it snapped. Cain's teeth ached as he ground them shut.

Not yet.

"Probably worked for the rest of them." Casper glanced up at Cain under his eyelashes. They were long and dark and sheltered his eyes like a thicket of thorns. "I bet the Dean doesn't like us hearing about it. Wouldn't like to know what he'd do if he knew one of the professors was lecturing in it, no matter if he's cautioning us."

Ah, blackmail. Predictable but not unsatisfying, especially as that one really would get Cain in trouble. Cain broadened his grin, showing a flash of teeth, and a flare of thrill lifted in his stomach as Casper's fingers froze, his eyes narrowing. "Oh no, I can't imagine he'd be pleased at all."

In fact, he'd be ecstatic.

The boy dropped the pen and sat back, hands dipping out of sight beneath the desk. His face had gone still, and it only deepened this static heat in Cain's gut. So quick to catch on. And he must know that Cain was only waiting to hear him say the words.

He did, of course. Every word that came out of Casper's mouth, Cain had spent the last few months planting there. It left a pleasant tingling down the back of his neck and beneath his tongue to see the boy respond so eagerly to the glossy red apple Cain had dangled before his face.

"If foreign magic never burnt you out," Casper said slowly, something dark simmering beneath his tone, "you get the loophole in Daud's Law. The loophole in nature. An eternal feedback loop of burgeoning energy. And—"

The boy bared his teeth, hands closing around the edge of the desk, and with the way the shifting light cast a drizzling chiaroscuro of shadows over his face, that pit where his teeth had been could almost be oozing black blood. Casper's eyes burned, so fierce that Cain had to dig his fingers into his skull to stop himself grabbing the boy by his hair and slamming his face into the desk. Just to teach him his place.

"You," Casper rasped, "know how to do it. Teach me."

Oh well, the boy would learn. If not, Cain's more experimental research was easily disguised as safe.

The ancient mechanisms in Cain's chair groaned as he rocked back, mingling with his dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose I've no choice in the matter. I do hope you don't have a weak stomach..."

Casper snorted, a sound that cut off in a sharp draw of breath as Cain jolted forward in his chair. A violent motion. He planted his elbows on the desk and cradled his chin in his hands.

Wide-eyed, Casper's hand sunk from where it'd flown to his throat. Now the smug triumph vanished from his face. Almost a shame, had it been put there by anything but some misguided notion of staking a victory against Cain. He grinned. Casper swallowed hard as his eyes traced the shark bite of Cain's smile.

"Just recall, Mr Black, that while the Dean has always desired cause to be rid of me, I'm teaching you the reason why he never can. Give me a hint of trouble, and I'll eat you alive."