Blackridge Institute (wlw)

Chapter 3

She had been civil to the succubus—?—as best she could, but Casandra had never been good at being civil. Angels never had to try to be civil, because they invented it. It was in their nature—toward each other, anyway.

Despite her monumental efforts to discourage interaction—but Cas knew she hadn't done anything other than never starting a conversation first—her acquaintance Solomon still kept throwing glances her way when they found themselves in the room together.

A relief, she celebrated, was that Solomon needed to sleep and she did not. In the illusion of nightfall she worked during this private time, Solomon's deep breaths only half as irritating as her constant stream of chatter when she was awake.

Solomon never stopped talking to her, even when Cas's own replies were terse.

"How come you don't get together with the other angels?"

"I am here for research and scholarship, not to fraternize." Casandra gritted this response out, despairing that Solomon woke up several hours earlier than usual.

"I see them go around in groups, but you never go. Can't you do this scholarship together?"

Cas turned on her spinning office chair to face Solomon, who as far as she could tell was buck naked under her tangle of sheets. She swiveled back to her desk. "Consider it a misalignment in priorities. Nevertheless, there is no point to meeting with my peers. My focus lies in interrelationships between creatures."

"Which brings me to this point—" Cas spun around again, to watch Solomon struggle into a shirt.

"One second," she said, getting the collar caught in one of her horns. Solomon pulled free and wrangled the fabric down. "Yeah?"

"The point that later in the day, a human associate will arrive to discuss shared business. I request you leave during this time."

"You can't kick me out of my room," said Solomon, throwing off the blanket and springing to her feet to reveal she was wearing pajama bottoms.

"I'm requesting—"

"Why? Are you being prejudiced, Casandra?"

Casandra, who was being prejudiced, said nothing.

"I have no desire to—to vamp your human. That's not how this even works. Maybe you should study some succubi so you'd know."

"Are you a succubus?" Cas said serenely, to hide her excitement.

Solomon quaked minutely, like a delicate active volcano. Then her magma retreated. "Yes, and no. Not always. I am whatever is best suited for the situation."

"Hm." Casandra made furious notes in her brain, and tamped down the urge to ask exactly what kind of situations.

"Who is it, the human?" The sometimes-succubus had sat back down on her bed.

"Harlan Xate."

"God, not that guy," said Solomon, sparking curiosity in Cas. "I'll leave, but not because you asked, but because I don't want to be here."

Casandra didn't understand Solomon's distaste for Harlan Xate, and she cared particularly to, but she had no way to seek this information for now. "Thank you, Solomon."

"You always call me that. You can say Sol."

"Do you prefer it?"

"Not really? It's just that everyone calls me Sol. Friends call me Sol."

"And this does not feel—diminishing?" At this, Solomon fixed her with a look she did not like to be subjected to.

"No. Does it feel diminishing when someone calls you Cas?"