Davian sighed as he briefly glanced over his anatomy test, decided that it wasn’t worth the risk, and began filling in the alphanumeric bubbles of the scantron answer sheet. The form filled out quickly under his hand, the telltale smudge of No. 2 pencil lead making its way down the side of his hand to the cuff of his grey silk shirt. When he stood he absently rubbed the skin to rid himself of the stain, but gave no thought to the cloth. The care and maintenance of the objects in his life had never been a concern for him, and the staff that managed those affairs had long since become used to the minor inconveniences he put them through. At least he wasn’t his sister, coming home with stains and smells and even the occasionally tear that were at the least inappropriate for her age and at the worst an invite to courtrooms and family scandal.

These were not his thoughts, though. His mind was turned to the slightly-too-eager smile Dr. Carrington wore as he approached her desk to turn in the test. What does she want now? He bobbed his head in a show of polite acknowledgement of her presence and slipped the answer sheet on to her desk. “Doctor.”

That smile sharpened, a predatory thing now, and as he turned to leave the room she placed her fingertip on his answers. She spoke softly, but the room was filled only with the quiet of pencils, stress, and ambition. “Mr. Layton, a moment please.”

There were no whispers or rustling of papers of his classmates, Harvard students carried too much class to make noise when eavesdropping on each other. Davian kept his expression one of innocent surprise, a look he had come to perfect in the months and press coverage since Alexis’ eruption. “Yes, Dr. Carrington? Is there a problem?”

Carrington, for even she rarely thought the soft Christian name her mother had so erroneously given her as a child anymore, enjoyed the naivety of her latest prodigy student. It was so – endearing and malleable. “You do remember that as an honor student in this class you will be required to present an independent project in addition to the written final, yes?”

Davian nodded, not allowing himself to feel impatient for the revelation her point. Her dark eyes flicked up to his, her predatory instincts taking a slight different tone for the brief moment that she took in the exact shade of blue of his eyes, the handsome, clean-cut features of his face, and the way that his hair seemed in perfect obedience to his will, never a strand out of place. She shook her head slightly, ambition scouring away instinct, and continued laying her plans.

“I know you must have given thought to your subject already. You are, after all, one of most promising freshmen students this year.” She gave a slight pause, but continued on before allowing Davian the impression that this was a two-person conversation. “I would suggest, however, that you consider the rather unique position you find yourself in. Someone of your background and obvious scholarly caliber will be expected to excel, even in so mundane a matter as a freshmen honors anatomy class.”

Davian felt a dark current of where this monologue was headed. He held his pose of clueless relaxation but began reviewing everything he knew of his falcon-like anatomy professor. The mental dossier wasn’t long, but it was long enough. There. Utopia must have denied her research proposal.

Carrington had continued speaking and Davian took a heartbeat too long in catching up on what she had said. “Mr. Layton? I know such a project might seem daunting to a first year pre-med student, but I’m confident your sister would wish to support you in the pursuit of your career. You are family, twins. Certainly that counts for something.” Another swift pause, “And I, of course, am always available to assist my honor students with achieving their goals.” She tapped her fingertips almost absently on the scantron sheet on the desk. Almost absently.

Davian glanced down at the unpolished but perfectly maintained fingernails that concealed his answer page from him and crafted a look of honest consideration. “I’ll speak with her about it. It would be an interesting project, but I don’t wish to interfere with her studies either. She’s still catching up from last semester.”

A smile, still predatory but more sated, found its way to her lips and she nodded. “Well, I’m certain Miss Layton will find little trouble catching herself up now. I’ll expect your revised thesis statement and outline by the end of next week, then. That is all, you may go now. Enjoy your weekend.”

Davian nodded again and made his exit, perfect posture and long practice keeping his anger hidden from the curious eyes of classmates and teacher alike.



Once outside the Medical Studies building he made his way a short distance off campus to gas station. He ducked inside, glad for the anonymity of standard business clothes so near the main campus, and bought a disposable cell phone.

Packaging and plastic bag safely disposed of in a sidewalk trashcan, he made his way to the student union and the noise of the cafeteria there. He mused that in movies and books a character always sought the empty park or dark street corner for these kinds of calls. Too quiet, sound travels too far, and anyone there doesn’t have their own distractions. His eyes scanned the cafeteria, taking in the cacophony of mid-afternoon the week of mid-terms. Students were either sitting alone lost in food-laden last minute cram sessions, in tightly clustered groups that eschewed solitary misery of the former kind, or were loudly rejoicing in their post-evaluation freedom, usually near the large flatscreen TV at one end of the room.

Davian took up one of the lounge seats midway between misery and celebration, but full of noise, and dialed a number on the new phone with the ease of long practice. He leaned back and forced himself to relax, to be entirely unremarkable, indistinguishable from his peers around him. The dial rang one, twice, three times then switched over to an answering machine that simply beeped. No message, no request for name and number. This was normal.

“Eddie, it’s Connor,” and it was. Davian’s voice was soft, smooth and light. This man, this Connor, was rough and sounded as if he’d smoked at least a pack a day for the past decade. “Pic'up.”

“Hey, Connor my man!” Davian could hear the faint echo of the recording machine in the background, then a click and a moment of static on the phone as Eddie switched it off. “Can’t be to careful, you know how it is. And can’t afford caller ID. What’s up? You only call me when you need dirt.”

Davian unnecessarily but convincingly cleared his throat. “I pay well for‘t, y’know that. Gotsa chick this time, some high-falutin’ doctor type and a guy as want’s to look all romantic by knowin’ all ‘bout her. Creep her out all he’s gonna do, but who’m I to argue with a paying gig, eh?”

Eddie chuckled greasily on the other end of the connection. “I hear you. Speaking of pay–”

“Four bills and at least four good pages o’ info. There’s maybe two more bills for ya, if you c’n get me somethin’ good on her or at leas’ summin’ good on someone close to ‘er.” Davian cut him off and named his price as he politely waved back at a girl near the TV. She was from his Eastern Philosophy class last semester, he pulled up the name Kelsey and that she was a junior; he knew she still harbored a crush on him. He stifled a sigh as she got up and headed over, inadvertently encouraged by his courtesy. “Take it or leave it, Eddie. Y’know I don’ haggle.”

Eddied sighed. “No, you don’t. Nobody does anymore. At least nobody worth the time of it. World’s gone to hell when petty little thieves like me can’t even haggle a decent price anymore. Six bills, and you know I’m worth it. Name?”

Kelsey was nearly to him, and certainly in hearing distance. Davian took the chance that Eddie wouldn’t notice a vocal slip in just a name, “Dr. Annabelle Carrington.” He clicked the phone closed and smiled at the slim blond in front of him.

Kelsey made a face. “That old harpy.” She gestured to the phone. “Is she giving you a hard time?”

He tucked the phone into a back pocket, Conner fading from him as he frowned at a small stain on the end of his cuff. Davian slipped back into himself and smiled up at her in his charming way. “Not for much longer.”