Moira hated Kevin’s music. Any attempts on her part to turn it down when he blasted it in her lab were greeted with accusations that she hated him. Often, he blared the volume on his iPod deck as a means of driving her away. Moira wisely invested in earplugs.
She checked the energy level readings on the control panel of his containment chamber. The unit was running smoothly, but she noticed a spike in his energy emissions, and his corporeal cohesion was erratic. He looked more “disembodied” than before, appearing less human and more blurred.
“What’re ye doin’ down here now, Mum?”
“Just checking in.”
“Bet that makes ye feel all warm and cuddly inside. Ye’ve done yuir duty.”
“Aye. That’s all I’m doing, luv. My duty.” She wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.
“Ye can go now.”
“Yuir too kind. But I’m not finished yet. I’ll be invading yuir space a bit longer, and pretending that this is actually a room in my own home.” She continued to read the monitors, toggling to different displays and readings. His body temperature spiked a degree briefly, then settled back down as Kevin finished ingesting the glass of milk that Eilish brought him. “Still hungry?”
“Nah.” Kevin belched unapologetically. Moira sighed.
“Yuir a growing laddie.”
“Growing into what?” he scoffed. Moira froze. She steeled herself, hating herself for wishing that she could lie to him.
“I dinnae know, luv.” The lack of certainty in her eyes when she removed her reading glasses made a chill sweep down Kevin’s spine.
“That’s all ye have tae tell me, Mum?”
“Kevin…”
“Save it!” he barked. He threw down the glass, letting it shatter on the chamber floor. He mastered the urge to plead for her to make everything go away, to assure him that everything would be okay. “Ye said ye would find a way for me tae come out of this black hole! I WANT MY FREEDOM!”
“I’ve… tried, Kevin. I’ve tried so bluidy hard. What d’ye want me tae do?” Moira’s eyes filled with tears, and she expelled a deep, shuddering breath.
“I want ye tae heal me and let me out! All ye’ve done is lock me away and forget about me, Mum! I’m yuir dirty wee secret! Aren’t I?”
“Yuir unstable, Kevin! Ye remember what happened before! Ye possessed those people, and it killed them. They were innocent, Kevin, and it didn’t help ye! It didn’t save ye when he took over their bodies.”
“I… I just needed tae borrow their energy. I didn’t know how tae do it properly before! I can try again, Mum, it won’t be dangerous this time!” He despised begging her.
Kevin hated her, yet he loved her. Farouk was right. Inside he was bleeding, denied contact with the woman who brought him into the world, wounded by the pain and grief in her eyes. Moira looked older to him, suddenly; he’d reached that point in his adolescence when his parents no longer seemed ten feet tall and made of steel. Her shoulders slumped, and tears ran down her cheeks. Bruise-like shadows ringed her eyes and more gray strands mingled with her chestnut locks. She watched him, the picture of heartbreak, and she slowly shook her head.
“I won’t. I can’t. If I let ye try, Kevin, other lives will be at risk. It’s all fine and well tae tell me ye can control it while yuir here in the chamber, where it controls yuir energies and sustains ye, but who knows what will happen once ye go outside its confines.”
“This is no life! I’m wasting away in here, Mum.”
“Kevin… there’s still hope. There’s always hope.”
“To hell with yuir hope!” Kevin’s body glowed with a blinding radiance, and scarlet fire sparked from his eyes, completely obscuring their true color. “Yuir going ta let me die. All alone in here, and ye want me tae have hope.”
Memories flooded Moira of her earliest, dearest moments of her son’s life. Her arms still remembered his soft, slumbering weight as she let him nurse his way to sleep, small, plump fist tucked against his cheek. “Mama” was his first word. His chubby fingers always immediately curled into her hair whenever she picked him up from his crib. He’d slept with a night light. He’d adored Dr. Seuss. He loved building with Legos and had a fondness for tadpoles and minnows when they trekked out to the conservatory.
He spoke the damning words she’d feared for months as the worst possible hypothesis became a reality. “It’s yuir fault I’m like this. Yuirs and that old bastard that ye say fathered me. Yuir both freaks.” His music continued to blare in the background.
“I’m sorry.”
“Go tae hell.”
*
Logan watched Ororo nimbly skirt around Japh with the battered red and white soccer ball, barreling toward the makeshift goal they’d set up, and he grinned at her efforts. She’d grown up playing with boys, that much was clear to him, and he admired her moxie. Jamie made the game more challenging by adding two of his duplicates to his team and offering them two dickeys. They played on Ororo’s team of “shirts,” while Japheth joined him in the “skins.” Ororo argued the point of which team she wanted when they automatically said she was on the shirts, not trusting the mischievous look in her eye.
Moira would kill them.
Rahne watched from the sidelines, tempted to join them, but a lifetime of Reverend Craig holding her back from sports or idle games chastened her. She huddled against the tall oak tree and peered up occasionally from her book, a leatherbound copy of “The Scarlet Letter.” Moira and Charles knew she was bright, and they encouraged her to expand her horizons by reading the classics. The air was crisp and the wind made her long wool tartan skirt flutter around her ankles, biting at her throught the thick red Aran sweater. She watched Jamie “ the original one, that much she was certain of “ head the ball before it could fly into the goal, and his grin was smug. Rahne blushed and clapped for his efforts. He turned toward the sound and waved her over.
“Come play!”
“Nay,” she called back. “Yuir doing fine without me, laddie.”
“You can help me out,” Ororo challenged.
“Ye dinna need my help, lass!” Rahne was afraid they’d mock her lack of skill. “I’m fine where I am!”
“Suit yourself.” Ororo waved and threw the ball back into play.
Rahne leaned back against the tree and closed her book once she dog-eared her page. Her stomach growled, reminding her that it was almost time for lunch.
Why don’t you come down and play with me, lass?
The voice startled her, and Rahne’s green eyes snapped open wide. “Och!”
How are ye at chess, Rahne?
“I dinna know how,” she admitted. “Er…who are ye, and how’re ye talking with me right now?”
It’s me. Kevin.
“Who?”
Come down to Mum’s lab.
That confused and intrigued her more than anything. Who else but Ororo, herself or Japheth referred to Moira as “Mum?” Rahne wondered if hunger was making her hear things, but she allowed her feet to carry her back toward the house.
“Bye, Rahney!” Japheth called out.
“Bye, laddie!” Rahne waved as she departed. Curiosity overruled her unease at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in her mind. She’d grown used to Charles, the kindly professor, after Moira assured her that she could trust him, and his gentle probe into her thoughts didn’t hurt, even though the idea of it made her uneasy. She nodded to Eilish as she entered the house.
“There are cookies. Only one; don’t spoil yuir appetite.”
“I won’t.”
“Ye’ve some nice color in yuir cheeks, lass.”
“It’s brisk out there.”
“Put on a scarf!”
“I’m going to stay in for a while.” Rahne detoured through the kitchen and found the plate of oatmeal cookies and took two, nibbling the first as she headed for the stairs. She left the sound of Eilish humming behind her as she descended to the lab. Rahne had only visited it once, and the experience wasn’t one she wanted to repeat. The sterile surroundings had none of the homey warmth of the rest of the manor, and the gleaming machines and appliances and the darkness of the chamber made her feel hemmed in. The wolf inside her craved wide open spaces and the acres of lush green hills around the Kinross estate.
Rahne wandered inside and turned on the light, but she was disappointed to find no one inside.
Back here.
“Pardon?” The voice inside her head made her jump.
Open the door. The one to the left.
“There’s a keypad. I don’t know the code,” Rahne mentioned. “And what on earth are ye doing in there?”
I can give ye the code, lassie.
“Moira wouldn’t like that,” she suggested.
Mum won’t mind. Yuir family, lass. That gave her pause.
“I dinna understand. How are ye family tae Mum?”
Come inside. The code is seven-seven-four, then star. Rahne approached the tiny keypad and paused before she hit the buttons.
“This isn’t just Jamie, playin’ a joke?”
Nay. Not this time. That bugger’s still outside kicking his ball around. The voice chuckled at her, and Rahne smiled.
“I hope you’re hungry, I stopped for a cookie…” Her voice died on her lips as she opened the door and turned on the light.
The chamber before her took her breath away, but even more incredible was the being inside it. Blue eyes glowed out from a disembodied, translucent face that looked slightly strained with the effort of communicating with her.
“Hi.” Kevin waved and smiled sheepishly at her.
“Holy Father protect me!” she hissed. She almost dropped the cookies. “Who are ye? What are ye?”
“I’m not a ghost. I know that’s what yuir thinkin’.” Rahne crossed herself, anyway, an instinctive gesture, and she hung back, preparing to run from the lab any moment.
“That doesn’t answer my questions. Either of them.”
“I’m a mutant, like you,” he shrugged. His smile was sad and ironic. The sentiment shared between them was that he wasn’t like her.
“All right. Now, who are you, laddie?”
“I’m Kevin Mactaggart. I’m Moira’s son.”
*
Scott strained against his bonds in the dark as a flood of voices assaulted his ears. Farouk’s dimension was a hideous place, populated with fragments of the spirits and minds he’d devoured and destroyed. They mocked him and his attempts at escape. Worse, he was trapped in a prison of his mind’s own making, tortured by all of his worst memories. Farouk dealt in fear and anguish, and human suffering was his meat and milk.
“There’s no point in struggling, but if you think it will make any difference, be my guest.” Farouk grinned at him from the chair he’d fashioned for himself. He appeared massive, and his astral body seemed to take up all the space between them. His middle Eastern features appeared slightly bloated, making Scott slightly puzzled. He could make himself appear however he wanted; why was he allowing him to see him in his true form?
Scott’s eyes glowed red. Here, they were unblocked by the ruby quartz lenses, but he held no control over his mutant power. He spat at the psychic thief, but Farouk only grinned more widely.
“You’ve been my guest, you bastard.”
“And you’ve been a kind host. Your body suits me quite well, despite how stubborn you’ve been.”
“Charles will find you.”
“I’m counting on it.” Farouk conjured himself a drink, and Scott felt slightly nauseous as he took a generous gulp, savoring it. “You taste delicious.”
“Get out.”
“You’re helpless, little fly.”
“Only if I let myself be!”
“There’s the rub, my darling. That’s your greatest fear. Helplessness. Feeling as though no matter what you do, the things that go bump in the night will consume you. You try so hard to be so brave, and to protect those who you think need it most. Like Jean.”
“Shut up.” Her name was profane coming from Farouk’s mouth. “Leave her alone.”
“I can’t resist her anymore than you can, I’m afraid. She’s too tempting. At heart, she’s pure, innocent to the world’s ills despite her access to its minds, to their souls. She’s as powerful as myself, or Charles, for that matter, did you know that? Of course not,” Farouk tutted, giving him a pitying look. “She fears her power. She restrains it rather than giving herself up to it. Until she embraces it fully, including the part housed within the darkest recesses of her mind, she will be incomplete. She owns only a fragment of that power, a pebble chipped loose from a mountain.” Farouk tapped his temple thoughtfully.
“There’s nothing wrong with Jean! She knows about self-control! You won’t corrupt her, Farouk. She’s too strong for you, and you hate that.”
“I’ve made her fear you. That eats at you. You know she’ll never trust you again, Scott.”
“SHUT UP!” he roared. Anguish twisted his young features, and Farouk felt how sick he grew from the thought of hurting the woman he loved. “Leave her alone,” he grated as he once against struggled in the psychic shackles. They glowed and grew even tighter, seeming to bite into his flesh and cut off his circulation. He struggled, eyes radiating fire, and he screamed his denial, hearing his voice cut through the din of the maelstrom in his soul. His despair mingled with that of the captive souls, and Farouk sat back and listened to the symphony, rapt and content.
“She’s beautiful. She tastes like honey, and she is irresistible when that first hint of fear blossoms in her eyes. You can hear it in her voice, and I enjoy it whenever she begins to struggle. She doesn’t want to hurt you, but she will. And you will,” he emphasized. He sighed and shook his head. “It was short but sweet, was it not?”
For the first time since Scott was twelve, harkening back to his life in the orphanage in Anchorage, when the older kids would victimize and molest him, Scott wept. He crumpled face-down on the ground, caring nothing for the voices anymore.
Farouk ignored him for the moment, moving on to his other favorite plaything. He reached into the box and extracted the sparkling, spiny essence of Ororo’s fear. He sighed over its beauty. “Soon,” he murmured. “Very soon.”
*
“Never since the night when the princess left him so abruptly, had the prince had a single interview with her. He had seen her once or twice in the lake; but as far as he could discover, she had not been in it any more at night. He had sat and sung, and looked in vain for his Nereid; while she, like a true Nereid, was wasting away with her lake, sinking as it sank, withering as it dried.”
*
It didn’t take long for the acquaintance between Rahne and Kevin to blossom into friendship. She made furtive visits to the lab, feeling strangely compelled not to tell Moira about them. Moira grew distracted by the current of “wrongness” in her household, unsure of its source, especially in regard to Jean’s self-isolation. The bubbly student was quieter, grimmer, and that worried her. She threw herself into trying to coax the old Jean back, as well as spending more time with Ororo, who suddenly resumed her strange nightmares. And she couldn’t explain them to her mummy, unfortunately. Her voice was sad, even though her face was serene when she came back with no probable reason.
Moira didn’t check the video feeds as frequently from the lab; what she didn’t know was that they were being conveniently interrupted by psychic interference, Kevin’s doing. He shielded Rahne from the cameras, so it appeared that he was playing chess by himself. All he had to do was alter the environment around him. He spoke to no one but himself, greeted no one at the door. The soft-spoken girl with closely cropped red hair and kind green eyes didn’t exist.
“Check,” Kevin murmured.
“What?”
“Check.”
“Och! Ye’ve got me again!” Rahne groaned. “Miserable sneak!”
“Ye were napping, lassie.”
“I dinna know why I keep coming down here for this,” Rahne mused, shaking her head, but her lips reluctantly twisted themselves into a smile.
“Ye enjoy my sparkling wit, charm and good looks.”
“Aye. That must be it,” she agreed solemnly. Kevin chuckled. She was a sweetheart, and not as simple as she seemed when they first met. “Cookie?”
“Put one in the dumb waiter,” he suggested. “Sprinkles?”
“Of course!” She did as he bade her, and she watched, amazed once more, as he ingested it, hardly seeming to eat it. The food discorporated as he absorbed its energy. “Do ye even taste it?”
“Not really, lass.” His sigh was heavy. “I just remember that they were my favorite.”
“Were you always like this?”
“Nay, Rahne.”
“Why can’t you come out?”
“Mum… never mind that.”
“I’m sorry.” He felt how contrite she was, and her posture closed up and seemed to shrink with embarrassment.
“It’s not yuir fault.”
“I just wish there was something I could do.”
She can. Kevin frowned at the intrusion.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, colleen. Your move.” Rahne contemplated the board and then made one more attempt to protect her queen.
This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.
Nay, old man. Yuir the one who’s been waiting for it, I’m thinking.
Don’t be insolent. Think of it. One suggestion, and you’re free. She’s innocent. She knows nothing. Moira hasn’t had the chance to infect her with her foolish concerns. Kevin considered this, but he felt a frisson of unease. He felt little more than anger with his mother for his confinement and for her seeming abandonment. But Farouk offered him a chance to prove her wrong.
Freedom. He craved it. It kept slipping from his grasp. He stared at Rahne and the sweet smile she gave him, free of artifice or motives.
“Want to see a magic trick?”
“What kind?” Rahne grew excited at the prospect. She leaned in toward the observation glass of Kevin’s chamber, interrupting the hologram of chess pieces that Kevin created between them.
“I can make it rain.”
“Och! I’d like tae see ye try,” she challenged.
“Then prepare tae be amazed.” With a thought, Kevin manipulated their surroundings and her perceptions of it, not strongly enough to be disconcerting or to cause her discomfort, and Rahne found herself outside, watching a sudden cloudburst erupt overhead. Yet she didn’t smell any ozone, only the clinical odors of the laboratory. She held out her hand, and the rain struck her palm, but she couldn’t feel or smell the drops.
“Ye can do so much, laddie.”
“Ye dinna know the half of it, colleen.”
“Do ye have any more tricks?”
“More than you can imagine, Rahne. More than ye’ve ever dreamed of.”
*
Ororo collapsed into bed relatively early, finally feeling the effects of jet lag and of an exhausting day. Jean and Ororo rode the trails on horseback for several hours, and then they helped Eilish with her canning, setting aside various fruits in heavy syrup, beans and corn, and two kinds of jelly in thick mason jars. Charged looks flew between Ororo and Logan throughout the day, but she tried to ignore them.
She was still so conflicted. There were feelings growing inside of her for him, and she felt a strange…helplessness. Ororo couldn’t help being drawn to him, for reasons she couldn’t name.
Even stranger was that he had infiltrated her dreams. Just snatches of memory, she thought, except how could that be? She couldn’t remember him from before they met in New York.
Or did she?
It made no sense as she laid herself between luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets that smelled like the lavender that Moira used in the laundry. Her ivory hair fanned out over the pillow and she let her eyes droop shut, feeling the gravity of sleep seeping into her bones. She was reluctant. It never took the nightmares long to catch up to her, just a few steps beyond her slow breathing and the sounds in the room fading from her ears.
She didn’t hear her own moans and low whimpers as the demons dogged her heels, painting her in their hot, eager breath…
*
She knew this place, felt at home here, even though it wasn’t pleasant. She hated the strange smells of tobacco and whiskey, even though she couldn’t name them as such. She couldn’t read the labels or small, crumpled boxes that the men here fished out of their pockets. She knew they were highly prized and eagerly accepted whenever any were offered. The interior was shadowy, bereft of sunlight. She heard the sizzle of the grill outside as the aromas of lamb and chicken wafted inside, but the warring scent of cigarettes ruined her appetite.
More smells assaulted her senses, cheap perfume and hair dressings. She was led away by one of several women who called themselves her mothers; she smiled at her with a chipped front tooth and she wore heavy eye makeup and little else, her skirt too short for decency.
The woman handed Moira to her, her favorite toy, and she took comfort in the mundane act of brushing her bedraggled curls. It helped, but it didn’t keep the boogeyman away. Not this time.
And he always brought friends.
She watched from the shadows as he sat down at Uncle’s card table. He was dirty and unshaven, his clothes battered and torn here and there. Sometimes they bore the blotchy crimson stains rimmed in brown as they dried, but he looked unhurt. He had a hard face, not unfriendly but not happy. His dark eyes looked sad, as though he’d lost his family, or a friend. He looked lonely and like he’d lost hope. The other men in her uncle’s parlor were afraid of him. Ororo could only imagine why.
She was led up to her room, such as it was. She had to share it, and it was certainly a girl’s room, albeit not a child’s. The walls were decorated with showy art posters and feathered fans. There were dressing screens with Oriental designs and painted cranes, and there was a willow patterned tea set in the corner on a dusty side table. Worn out braided rugs covered the hard wood floor, and in the corner, there was a shelf piled high with Ororo’s dollies. The floor was scattered with tiny doll clothes and miniature grooming items, her favorite possessions.
She sat and held a tea party for them, talking to them as she set out the little saucers and cups. She tied a festive scarf around Moira’s hair and pretended to drop a lump of sugar into her chipped cup. “Would you like some more?” she asked a Barbie who had seen better days. The doll was dressed in a gaudy pink miniskirt and only one shoe. The top was missing, but Ororo didn’t treat it as out of the ordinary. Her “mothers” wore very little every day, even in gentleman’s company.
“May I have some tea?” a deep, warm voice rumbled by her side. Ororo’s clear blue eyes widened in delight as she met her uncle’s gaze.
“Uncle Farouk!” She leapt up and hugged him tight, leaning into his bulk. He patted her hair fondly, admiring how it shone in the meager lamplight.
“Are you behaving yourself, my lovely?”
“Uh-huh. I’m having a tea party.”
“It looks delightful. May I play with you?”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled as he always did, as though he were conspiring with her about an exciting little secret. They spoke in low tones as though they might be found out. Ororo grew good at it over time; it made Uncle happy.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Can I have it?”
“If you close your eyes.” She dutifully covered them with her chubby little hands. “All right. Go ahead, sweetheart.” A bubble of excitement fluttered in her belly, and when she looked, there was a brand-new doll of brown porcelain sitting perched on Uncle’s knee.
“She’s pretty!”
“She wants her new mommy,” he agreed, handing it over to her with a benevolent smile. “Now, what do you say?”
“I love you, Uncle.”
“I love you, too.” He hunkered down to the absurdly small table and cups. “Now, let’s have some of that tea.”
She reached for the curved tea pot and poured, and to her surprise, a steaming, rich amber brew cascaded into the cup. “Oh! It’s real!”
“Of course it is, child. Together, we can make it real. We can do anything.” She looked up at her uncle, and to her surprise, he’d changed. Gone was the enormous, nearly elephantine man. In his place was a swarthy, handsome man, fit as a fiddle and garbed in a white linen suit. He still wore the tiny reading glasses she recognized, and he still had her uncle’s smile. “Come with me.”
“We’re not finished with the tea party!” she complained.
“I have something much better to show you. Come along, Ororo.” She took his hand, which felt strong and powerful, making her feel safe and loved.
They opened the door and left the shabby boudoir, and Ororo stepped into a different world. The noise of the saloon and smoky interior disappeared.
They entered a long white, gleaming corridor lined with many doors, too many to count with her eyes. “Where are we?” Ororo asked him nervously. She didn’t know why she felt so odd, so on edge. “Uncle?” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
“Wherever you want to be,” he explained easily. “You can do anything you want here.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look at yourself, child.” She was puzzled when he handed her a silver mirror, frowning, but he chuckled. “Don’t be shy. Look.” Her eyes dropped down to its gleaming surface, and she gave a small cry of surprise.
“Uncle! I’m…big?”
“You’re grown,” he corrected her. “Look how lovely you are, darling.” And she was. Ororo stared at her idealized version of herself, the woman she imagined that she could grow up to be. She stood tall and vibrant. Her hair flowed down in a riot of curling waves. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence, fringed in long lashes and emphasized by arched brows. She wore a crisp white eyelet sundress that left her shoulders bare and looked stunning against her flawless brown skin.
“That’s…me?”
“Of course it is. This is who you see yourself to be. You’re a vision.”
“But how?”
“With my help. I’ve always seen your potential, little Ororo. We’re two of a kind. We’re not like anyone else.” She felt confused, and it showed on her face.
In a twinkling, they moved down the corridor, and Farouk turned the brass knob to their right. His palm at her lower back was gentle but insistent. “Ladies first.” She felt uncertain, unsure of how this could be happening, and her breath caught as they stepped outside, into a completely different world.
The field was more vast than her eyes could measure, and everything was so green. Ororo the child had never seen emerald green grass or tangles of white and yellow wildflowers, smelled honeysuckle or damp, rich, moist dark soil. The air was blessedly cool, and no steam rose from the ground, which wasn’t unforgivingly dry or cracked with endless fissures. No clouds blemished the sky, and Ororo felt the sunlight feeding every cell of her body, charging her with energy and murmuring in her ear, Come play. The damp grass tickled her feet, and she walked ahead of Farouk, heedless of how rude it seemed.
“This is all yours,” he informed her.
“It’s beautiful!” she called back to him, as though she were thanking him for another dollie.
“Enjoy yourself, darling,” he replied. “For now.”
A sparse wisp of a cloud appeared, drifting overhead, and Ororo tracked it with her fingers, musing that she could make it move. When it followed the motion of her hand, she laughed incredulously, and she wondered if she could create another. “You know you can, child.” She turned back to him and nodded, as if she sought his approval, and another cloud gathered beside the first. They rotated around each other like prisms thrown from facets of a piece of lead crystal, spinning and scattering, then flowing through each other again.
She created more clouds for the pleasure of watching them dance, so that they teased the sun and interrupted its light. Ororo appeased the burning orb overhead with gusting winds that scattered the clouds away again, only to let them drift slowly back, drawn to its radiance.
“Do you know what would be truly special, darling?”
“What, Uncle?”
“If you made it rain.” Her face lit up, and the air changed, the scent of ozone overwhelming the honeysuckle. Ororo’s eyes sparkled, cerulean deepening at first to cobalt, until murky white invaded her irises slowly, completely lensing them until they resembled the clouds. With a thought, she rose up into the sky to play with her toys. The winds stroked her skin and lifted her skirts, toying with her hair as she flew over the field. A sonorous roll of thunder broke the pristine silence, and she reveled in it, answering it with her laughter. The clouds drifted together, rolling and tumbling into one another until they were no longer distinguishable as unique bodies. She was stunned by its beauty and power, a thing charged with energy instead of benevolent ions of water and air. It rolled across the sky, and she flew within its billowing confines, becoming one with it.
She caressed it, fingertips discharging minute bursts of electricity. It parted for her, then swept her farther inside it, rippling around her like a cloak. Ororo no longer knew where the cloud ended and she began, but she didn’t care. She belonged to it, and it was hers.
Bursts of moisture filled her lungs and her breathing changed. She felt the heady rush of ozone and hydrogen filling her chest, and cold tingles rushed over her skin as the cloud pulsed and reacted with the rise in temperature. She saw only energy, patterns of it that made up every particle around her, every blade of grass, every wildflower, every molecule of the sky. She even saw her uncle, smiling up at her, as glowing energy, and it fascinated her that there was a pulsing red core of fire glowing inside him, made of different substance than everything else.
He held up a small object that it took a moment for her to recognize. It was a willow-patterned tea cup, slightly chipped. Lightning arced from the clouds, and Ororo gestured, urging it to serve him, as it served her.
Fat raindrops pelted the porcelain, filling it to the brim. Farouk craned his head back and laughed up at the sky.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I mentioned that quotes from "The Light Princess" would be in this story in bold italics. I felt one was applicable here. There will be a part three to this chapter, since I like to keep the text length limits in mind when I upload. I don't want any individual chapter to be too big to digest, which I've certainly done before.
Sorry there was no nookie in this installment. Might not be any for a while, but so sue me. There's a plot in here somewhere... *hunts high and low for it*.
Sorry there was no nookie in this installment. Might not be any for a while, but so sue me. There's a plot in here somewhere... *hunts high and low for it*.
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