The room was quiet except for the low beeps of the blood pressure monitor and the drips of the IV as Matt pulled the shades. The room smelled like lemon deodorizing cleaner. Mister Howlett was comfortably bundled beneath an acrylic fleece blanket his mother had made for him to take to work. He looked smaller, yet younger in sleep. His face was paler than usual, making the contrast between his skin and the red fleece more stark.
“Gettin’ inta trouble. Kid?” he muttered, making him jump.
“Geez! Scared me, sir!” He came around to the side of the bed and studied him. “How are you today?”
“Eh. Tired. Always tired. Ain’t nothin’ new. Been meanin’ ta ask ya, kid, how old are ya?” Matt paused in pumping hand sanitizer from the dispenser on the wall.
“Oh. Eighteen.”
“So ya just graduated from high school, eh? Ya plannin’ on furtherin’ yer education?”
“Kinda. Might take a few units part time next semester.”
“Spring. Good. Great time fer a new start, boy. Don’t cheat yerself of an education. There’s plenty of shit ya don’t know ya were even missin’ til ya go ta school. Thought I knew everything there was ta know, back in the day.” He tried to lean up onto his elbows, but he was still slightly groggy. Matt obliged him by raising the head of the bed several inches. Logan groaned in relief. “Thanks, bub. Helps. Still feel like shit today, though.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Call me Logan. Don’t be shy about it. Never was one ta tell folks what my real name was, either, back when I was still a soldier, and then an agent. So ya won’t wear it out.” Matt returned his smile.
“What’s your plan for the day, Logan?”
“Might head to the sun room. Gonna have a smoke. Might get a haircut. Play shuffleboard. Learn the tango…” He was never averse to pulling the boy’s leg. “Got a full docket.” Matt moved to clear his tray, peering under the lid. Half the contents still remained. He suppressed a sigh.
“I brought you something.” He reached into his jacket pocket. The ward was draftier as the building maintenance staff still worked to regulate the heating now that they’d move into late fall. “You said you liked this kind.” Logan grinned with delight. The packet of Pemmican beef jerky crinkled in his withered hand.
“Someone forget ta tell me it’s my birthday? Yer a pip, kid. ‘Preciate it.” He tore open the pouch and ripped off a strip, folding it into his mouth. He sighed, content. “Know what ya plan ta do with yer life when ya finish?”
“Not really,” he admitted guiltily.
“Then all I can tell ya is this: Don’t let anyone else decide it for ya. It’s gotta be somethin’ that makes ya wanna wake up in the morning and that don’t trouble ya before ya go ta bed at night. A man’s gotta be able ta live with himself and the choices he makes, bub. Remember that. Somewhere along the way, I got lost. Took me years ta find myself. I paid the price and took a lot of people with me.” He scratched at the strip of IV tape pulling at the back of his hand; it itched horribly.
“I’ll remember.”
“Charley usually got new students when they were kinda young. Not grade school-aged so much, but young, younger than you. They always looked the same, thunderstruck and wide-eyed, gapin’ an’ starin’ at that huge school like it was the Taj Mahal, and to some of ‘em, it was. Was ta me, fer a while, too. Jean, Scott, Warren, Bobby, Lorna, all of ‘em came there as snot-nosed punks, and from what Moira told me, she had her hands full. They were her chicks.
One day that stands out in my mind, though, was the day we met Kitty.”
“Did she end up on the team like you and ‘Ro?”
“She ended up on the team before she even became a student. The first day that we met her, she just about saved our friggin’ lives.”
“Dude, THIS I’ve gotta hear! What could she do?”
“She could walk through walls, and pretty much everything else,” he grumbled. “Kid sometimes walked in on stuff she wasn’t s’posed ta see. Kid was only thirteen, and the last thing any one of us wanted ta do was give her an eyeful when she had ta call home ta her parents on how an’ what she was doin’. Kit was a scamp. ‘Ro an’ I loved her. All of us were wrapped around her pinky finger, but fer her, I was a soft touch. When she wasn’t drivin’ me nuts. Neat thing ‘bout Pryde, though, was that we got ta watch her grow an’ develop those powers. Kid was one of those people who makes ya sick with all the special stuff she could do, like there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. She made it all look easy.”
“She sounds cool,” Matt marveled.
“Eh. Kids her own age called her a geek. None of ‘em lived a life as full as hers, though, and most folks walkin’ this earth never will.”
“So what happened the day you brought her to the school?”
“We had a spaghetti dinner with her folks. Shot the shit, let Chuck toot the school’s horn, went out fer treats, an’ got our asses handed ta us.” Logan tore off another piece of the jerky, holding the bag out to Matt, who was staring at him openmouthed. “Just another day in the life…”
~0~
Elephants. Riverdancing elephants were clogging in her head. Oh, the humanity.
Sweat rolled down her neck as she emerged from the subway and wove through the people crowding the sidewalk during rush hour. She heartily wished she’d grabbed a Tab on her way out of the studio, but the vending machine was all out.
Kitty regretted keeping her leotards on beneath her clothes, but the last time she’d worn only her dance gear home on the train, her mom had thrown a fit. Her backpack felt heavy, its well worn straps about to give up the struggle against the thick stack of texts and novels stuff inside. That’s what she got for taking two college electives on top of her full load.
She trudged to the bus stop beneath the evening sun that hadn’t dimmed much, despite that it was nearly autumn. After paying her fare, she sighed in relief, once seated, and dug a small pebble out of her black Chuck Taylors where it had rubbed her foot raw.
Kitty toyed with her Star of David pendant until more throbbing in her temples made her lean her head against the cool window and release a low moan. Hurts. Why’s it hurt so darned much? Why me? She tried and failed to ignore two boys across the aisle playing loudly with Transformer action figures.
Both her parents’ cars were parked in the driveway when she came up the front walk. Her mother, Theresa, opened the door before she could try the knob.
“Freshen up, dear, we’re expecting company.”
“Hi, Mom, my day was fine, how about you?” she quipped sourly. Her mother tutted and let her inside, giving her a quick peck. She scowled at her daughter’s appearance.
“Why do you look so flushed?” She was already relieving Kitty of her backpack and laying a cool hand against her forehead. Kitty winced.
“Too many clothes. And I have a headache. A real whopper. Mom, can I go take a nap?”
“Go shower. Toss your dance togs into the hamper and I’ll wash them tomorrow. Then go lie down until dinner’s ready,” Theresa suggested, clucking.
“Can’t I just stay in my room tonight?”
“I think you’ll want to come down to dinner for tonight’s guests, Kitten.”
“Phooey,” she muttered, already heading upstairs and shucking her battered Star Wars tee shirt.
She headed into her bedroom halfway down the hall, taking refuge amid the clutter and tossing herself on top of the rumpled pink canopy bed. She laid back and grabbed a Hello Kitty throw pillow, clutching it over her face. Maybe if she pressed hard enough, she could smother herself, or at least the migraine pounding its way out through her eyeballs…
She didn’t know when she fell asleep.
Theresa was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce a few minutes later when the doorbell rang.
“Can’t let a woman catch a break after she gets home from work,” she muttered as she approached the door and peeked through the hole. Her grimace was replaced by a bright smile as she opened it to her visitor, an elegant blonde in her late twenties.
“I wasn’t expecting you so early! You must be Ms. Frost! Come in, please!” Theresa reflexively tucked a lock of her sandy brown hair behind her ear and waved her in.
“No need to be so formal, you can call me Emma? Terry, correct?”
“Carmen’s in the den. Make yourself comfortable.” She ushered her to the spotless, comfortably furnished dining room and nodded to the chairs. “Go ahead and set down your briefcase.”
“Thank you.” Theresa’s back was turned as she moved to the refrigerator to fetch a pitcher of iced tea; she didn’t see Emma press a small button set into the lock. Almost imperceptibly, a laser-fine beam of light scanned over the contents of the room. “You’ve a lovely home.”
“You’re too kind! How was the flight?”
“Uneventful.” Emma’s slate blue eyes were thoughtful, fixing themselves on her hostess’ modest attire and unassuming looks. She didn’t seem like the mother of a Class Three mutant. “So she’s currently attending public school?” She kept the disdain out of her voice with some difficulty.
“Deerfield has some nice ones. We make do. And it’s moot, really, since Kitty’s advanced. She’s taking some college units this year. Loves spatial geometry, mechanics, computer science…I can’t even put together a jigsaw puzzle without getting a headache!” she chuckled deprecatingly. Emma beamed.
“Sounds like an excellent candidate, and hopefully a new addition to the academy.”
“Er…are there any scholarship programs available to help with tuition?”
“Of course! Most of them are based on academic merit as well as financial need. She’ll have no trouble documenting the former,” Emma assured her smoothly, mentally reeling in her catch. Theresa tucked a glass of tea into her hand and seated herself.
“It’d be nice for you to meet her…hold on.” She hopped back up and hurried back into the foyer, bellowing from the foot of the stairs. “KITTY! Come on downstairs, sweetie!” She tsked and sighed when she earned no reply. “She’ll be along soon enough. We’re just about to sit down to dinner.”
“I won’t keep you from it,” Emma promised, opening her attaché and pulling out several stapled packets. “Here. Brochures, scholarship apps and registration forms, the fall class schedule and catalog, a handbook, student intramurals…does Katherine play any sports? Participate in anything extracurricular?”
“Mainly her college coursework…oh, and her dance lessons! She dropped out of gymnastics.”
“Oh? Wasn’t her cup of tea?”
“No. Just not enough time, and she didn’t find it enough of a challenge. Dance class relaxes her!” Emma’s face was blank as Theresa rambled on, sifting through the paperwork. “Oh, look, horseback riding!” she gushed.
“Not enough of a challenge?”
“Perfect scores during her gymnastic meets. And the other girls weren’t always that kind. Kitten’s not fond of cliques, she tends to go her own way.”
“That may change, if she came to the Massachusetts Academy. She’d no doubt fit in just fine,” Emma suggested. “We aim to make our students feel like they belong. And we pride ourselves on recognizing a student’s skills and talents and nurturing them to their fullest potential.” Theresa paused mid-flip through perusing the handbook when Emma told her “She will have plenty of opportunities to prove herself worthy ““
“Excuse me?”
“Er…to prove herself academically while upholding the values of the school,” Emma recanted sweetly.
“I’ve got to let Carmen see all of this before we make a decision. This is such a new experience. Here I am, having schools scouting my daughter to recruit her, and she’s not even a sophomore yet!”
“Schools?” Plural. “There have been other, er, schools interested in enrolling Katherine?”
“One in particular that’s been in contact with us. They’re situated in New York, from what I understand. Westchester County. I’ve never been there, but I hear they have pretty fall leaves.”
“They can’t compete with Boston in the autumn, but I’m biased, you understand,” Emma murmured, smiling serenely and inclining her head toward Theresa. “Is the child coming down?”
“Oh! Sure. Let me try and get her again, once I turn this off.” She hurried into the kitchen and turned off the pot on the stove. “Just a sec…KITTY!” Theresa took that opportunity to search for her good table linens in the hall closet as she once again called upstairs. “Come on down, sweetie! Did you hear me?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she heard Emma rise from her seat behind her, high heels clicking against the tile as she roamed around her kitchen.
Emma entertained herself by staring at all of the framed photos hanging in the wall.
A skinny child with brown hair grinned out from most of them, her looks unremarkable except for big, intelligent looking brown eyes. She was something of a ham, if her silly poses were any indication, and as her mother boasted before, she was very athletic. She sported different costumes and uniforms in each one. Baseball togs, dancing costumes, gymnastic leotards, ice skating skirts; clearly the child was multi-faceted. Emma stroked the edge of one frame covetously with her long French manicured nail.
“Let me go up here and get that girl,” Theresa muttered to herself, marching up the stairs with a mission. She approached Kitty’s bedroom and noticed it was silent in the hall. No irritating hip-hop or New Wave music blasting out the doorway, and she wasn’t typing away on her laptop. There was no scent of steam from the hall bathroom, indicating she hadn’t yet showered.
“Kitten…what on earth? Where did she go?” Theresa crumpled her brow in confusion. She never heard her come downstairs.
Kitty rolled to her side, expecting to bury her face in the pillow and catch a few more winks…carpet. Fuzzy gray carpet. She smelled her mother’s spaghetti and a hint of foreign perfume.
“Mmmph…huh? CRIPES!” she hissed, sitting up and staring incredulously around the living den. Her father lumbered over to see what caused the loud thump.
“Kitty! Are you okay, kiddo? What happened, did you fall?” He gently prodded her head, checking for bumps.
“Ah…I’m okay, Dad. Kinda. Tripped, I guess. Fell over my own feet.”
“Carmen, have you seen…Kitty, what are you doing on the floor?”
“You’ve got me,” she muttered, brushing off her father’s assistance and standing up, looking sheepish.
“Is everything all right?” Emma intoned sweetly from the doorway. “Ah, Katherine! It’s nice to finally meet you!” She extended her long, slender hand and appraised her through her fashionable reading glasses. “I’m Emma Frost, headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy.”
“Oh. Hi.” She shook it after she absently wiped her own sweaty palm off on her jeans. She missed the way Emma’s nose twitched in distaste at the gesture as she turned to address her mother. “I’d better go on upstairs and change, be down in a sec!” She bolted back up the steps, taking them two at a time. It was only after she was safe in the room, leaning back against the closed door that it hit her: Her headache was gone as though it had never been.
“I’m sorry,” her mother apologized haplessly, shaking her head and smiling weakly at her guest. “She’s not normally so scatterbrained and impolite.”
“Perhaps I just caught her indisposed. Look, Terry, and Carmen, is it? I’ll be moving along. I’m only staying overnight and taking a flight back tomorrow morning. Here’s my card. Give me a call over the next week and let me know when you reach a decision. Enrollment closes at the end of the month, we’d love to get her paperwork going as soon as we can. I wouldn’t want her to miss out on a fabulous opportunity, or for our school to benefit from her special gifts.”
“We just want her to be comfortable no matter where she chooses to go to school,” Carmen emphasized, scratching behind his ear. His daughter took a lot of looks from him, including the intense eyes and broad smile.
It’s not up to her. Emma stifled the thought as she reached out to shake both their hands and to collect her briefcase. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Pity you couldn’t stay for dinner,” Theresa tsked.
“I’m sure it would have been delicious. Ta!” she trilled as she swept out the door in a cloud of expensive cologne.
Outside, she sighed wearily and shook off the invisible film of mediocrity and suburban grunge. It practically left a smell, she snorted…
She was already diving into her blazer pocket and fishing out her tiny cell phone. “Frost here. Send the car around the block, I’ll meet you there.” Almost a block ahead, she spotted a small group of people approaching, a motley assortment for lack of a better phrase.
Charles Xavier had the blessing, or curse, depending on how you looked at it, of having a distinctive face. She recognized him instantly from the Club’s data banks. She could tap into them on her wireless connection from the car to ID the rest.
The largest member of the group shyly let her pass as they crossed paths. She gave him a Colgate-bright smile and felt the warm tickle of male appreciation from his thoughts until she turned the corner. Just as noticeably, the shorter, stockier man’s eyes seemed to eat her up from beneath the brim of his Stetson. Him, she would definitely dig for information on before the day was through.
~0~
“Is this the house, Professor?” Ororo murmured, making a face briefly at the lingering scent of strong, flowery perfume wafting downwind from the attractive woman they’d passed. She’d had no doubts about her femininity, Ororo mused. Her suit was such a bright white it gleamed, and it looked like cashmere, a surprisingly warm fabric for such a hot day. Absurdly high heels made her almost as tall as Ororo in her flat feet, and something in her demeanor was smug as she appraised them. Ororo had the odd feeling of being…undressed.
It reminded her of the first time Jean confessed that she’d read Ororo’s thoughts.
“This is the address they gave us. They keep a nice yard,” Charles remarked cheerfully. “She’s an only child.”
“Smells like it’s dinner time,” Logan grumbled. “Hope we ain’t intrudin’ when they’re indisposed.”
“I don’t smell anything,” Piotr said, surprised.
“Spaghetti sauce. Extra oregano,” Logan shrugged. “They know we’re comin’?”
“I spoke with Mr. Pryde two days ago. He said he could arrange his schedule so they could meet with us.” Piotr wheeled him up the front walk and put on his parking brake before knocking briskly on the front door. Now that they were on the front porch, Ororo did smell the sauce.
“Told ya,” Logan teased under his breath, catching the way she sniffed the air. Her lips twisted and she gave him a playful elbow in the ribs.
“Nosy.” They waited patiently for someone to answer the door.
“Why ya nervous?” he prodded, not looking at her. She frowned thoughtfully.
“I’m not, Logan.”
“The nose don’t lie. She’s just a kid, darlin’, she don’t bite.” Before she could open her mouth, they heard the click of the lock sliding back before a man of middle years answered the door.
“Wow, our house is grand central today! You must be Professor Xavier,” he exclaimed. His rich baritone held a patina of culture and education, and he had the mannerisms of someone who looked ready to work, even when lounging at home. “I’m Carmen Pryde.” He studied the Professor’s companions carefully, emotions and curiosity flickering over his face. “We can make introductions better inside.” He waved them in, stepping aside to let Piotr wheel Charles into his foyer. The look on Carmen’s face was almost comical as he saw his guests up close, looking up, up, up to stare Piotr and Ororo in the eyes, yet finding Logan the most intimidating of them all despite being the shortest of the four.
“You have a lovely home. I’m Ororo Munroe, an associate teacher at the school.” The thought occurred to her that they were at a loss for how to qualify Logan and Piotr’s presence at the school.
“I hope we’re not imposing,” Charles cut in quickly, reaching out to shake his host’s hand. “Something smells wonderful. Is Kitty already home?”
“Every time I turn my head, that kid disappears! Teenagers,” he grumbled fondly. “Make yourself at home.” Carmen excused himself and headed to the kitchen.
“Kid’s here,” Logan muttered. “She was a few minutes ago, anyway.” He cocked his ear. “Just turned off the shower. Up there slaughtering some song on the radio. Might have gifts, but singin’ ain’t one of ‘em.” Piotr suppressed a smile.
“Goodness, let me set a few more places at the table! Hi, I’m Terry!” Her previous intimidation upon meeting Emma Frost disappeared when she shook hands with the modestly attired, dark-skinned woman with lambent blue eyes and a generous smile.
“It’s so nice to meet you, and thank you for showing us your hospitality on such short notice.” Her face brightened as she took in the knick-knacks. “Those are lovely, is that Lenox?” Carmen’s wife was adequately distracted with the promise of rambling about every item’s origin in long detail while Charles began the process of engaging Carmen’s trust.
“So what grade is Kitty in this year?”
“Ninth, but we’re thinking of accelerating her another year. To be honest, we’re at a bit of a loss. She’s so young, and this is such an awkward, vulnerable time of her life…” he hedged.
“What my husband means is that she’s bored,” Terry piped up cheerfully as she brought out more iced tea. “Brilliant, bored, and an expert at getting into trouble. She’s our pride and joy.”
“My kinda girl,” Logan mused. His smile was slow but took years off his face. Ororo gave him hooded glances as Terry continued to sing her daughter’s praises.
He seemed out of his element in their sedate surroundings, still looking untamed despite careful attempts with his clothing and grooming. He settled on khaki jeans and a chambray oxford instead of his beloved flannel; his beloved Ropers still shod his feet. His sleeves were rolled up in an effort to cool himself. Piotr and the Professor both looked slightly flushed, making Ororo feel a wave of concern and sympathy.
Logan felt the air in the room shift almost imperceptibly, circulating a low draft around them even though none of the windows were open. He turned toward Ororo out of instinct and saw the pearly mask of electricity fall over her blue eyes, revealing that she was using her powers, albeit subtly. He suddenly felt less stifled, the room was less stuffy. Her eyes returned to their normal state when Theresa appeared and gestured to them.
“We’re just about to have dinner, I hope everyone’s hungry.” She set a stack of plates on the table just as light footsteps made their way downstairs. “Kitten, come here and set the table for me, and say hello to our company!”
It was one of those moments that would linger in Kitty’s memory until she was old and gray. Her sharp mind instantly took a photograph of her surroundings and the faces smiling back at her, studying her carefully and measuring her reaction.
“Wow,” she muttered under her breath before she recovered her senses. “Uh, I mean, hi. I’m, uh, Kitty. Just call me Kitty.” Her cheeks burned scarlet as she dropped her gaze to her shoes, which suddenly seemed very, very interesting.
“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Kitty,” Charles informed her warmly, wheeling himself closer and reaching up to shake her hand. “I’m Charles Xavier. You’re father was kind enough to arrange for us to come see you. I run a school in Westchester, New York.” She released his hand and made a face.
“Man. Another school?”
“Be polite, Kitty,” her father warned. By way of explanation he offered, “We didn’t plan it this way initially, but we had another visit from a woman at Massachusetts Academy.”
“We haven’t heard much about that school, other than that it’s meant to be very prestigious,” Ororo remarked carefully.
“Mrs. Pryde, where do you keep the napkins?” Piotr inquired. Theresa swatted him with a towel.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that! Keep that up, and I might not let you leave!” He was already relieving her of the silverware and setting places neatly at the table before Kitty could assume that task.
“Hello,” he greeted her. She stood there open-mouthed, staring at him.
“H-hi.”
“My name’s Piotr.”
“Hi,” she repeated, this time clearing her throat.
“You’re lucky to have such a nice home. I still think you’d like the school. There’s a lot to do there, and it’s big enough to fit my entire house in Russia into one wing!”
“Wow,” she muttered again.
He was huge. She echoed her father’s initial response to his size by staring in awe, but she took him in bit by bit, cataloguing each trait, such as the tiny dimples that came out when he smiled, or the tiny crinkles around his deep-set, cobalt blue eyes. He said something about a school?
Sign me up, ASAP.
~0~
“Your shot, ‘Elf,” John grumbled as he took a long pull from his beer. Kurt chalked his cue and lined up his shot, smoothly sending two striped balls into the corner pocket. “Shit. Bein’ fuckin’ hustled again.” His challenger merely grinned with those disconcerting white fangs and shrugged.
“If it makes you feel any better, mein freund, you’ll only have to buy the first two rounds at Harry’s.” He sounded wholly unsympathetic. “I wonder how the Professor and the fraulein are faring with the girl’s parents.” John was unusually silent. “Proudstar? Any thoughts?”
“Nope.” He scratched, cursing and laying down his cue with a ragged sigh. “I might pack it in.”
“Maybe you just need to get out of the house. It’s a lovely day,” Kurt suggested.
“No offense, buddy, but yer not my idea of a lunch date ta take out on the town,” he replied wryly, seating himself on the long sofa and dangling his hands between his knees. There was something sullen and resigned in his dark eyes, marring an otherwise striking face. “Someone with tits, fer one.”
“Then we’ve reached an impasse,” Kurt deadpanned. Then he added “Perhaps you should have stepped more carefully and tactfully with the fraulein. She’s difficult to resist, ja, but she doesn’t appreciate anyone taking liberties.”
“Nope,” John agreed. “She sure doesn’t. Ain’t every day a guy gets his intestines crispy-fried fer one little kiss. Mind you,” he went on, mischief tugging at the corners of his mouth, “it was damn well worth it.”
“You should apologize.”
“Already did, no need ta beat me over the head tryin’ ta convince me.” Kurt’s brows lifted.
“Gut. We live in a large house, but there’s too much at stake when we can’t get along.”
~0~
A woman’s garden was her refuge. Ororo drank in the lush smell of her late-blooming begonias and the savory herbs she planned to harvest and dry for Moira. She kneaded a kink from her shoulder earned from bending and reaching for too long, rocking her head from one side to the other. Sweat, from hard work, not the humid interior of Charles’ greenhouse, ran down the back of her slender neck. She fished in the small toolbox sitting on the wooden picnic table and found a rubber band. Ororo fisted back her long fall of thick waves and tied it back hastily, sighing with relief at having the sticky strands peeled off of her skin.
Dark, hungry eyes watched her, assessing her graceful movements and utter contentment with her surroundings. She was an extension of the greenhouse, a sedate box holding wildness inside it, easily its most exotic flower.
She felt a strange sensation of eyes on her back. Out of long habit, she paused and stood from the table, scanning the house slowly. Her hand reached for the spare pair of bypass pruning shears before she could stop herself.
The door to the greenhouse was slightly ajar.
Not again, she vowed silently. The facility was quiet, the only sounds reaching her ears came from outside. Just because a pond had no ripples didn’t mean nothing was swimming below the surface… she’d learned that growing up among thieves, under Achmed’s wing.
Her irises were clouded by swirling white, and a faint breeze stirred the leaves of her cherished ferns and spider plants.
“I know when someone’s intruding inside my home. You can come out now,” she intoned, her voice brooking no bullshit.
“Boo,” a familiar, deep voice teased as John Proudstar unfolded himself, rising from a thicket of dormant gardenia plants. He dusted a few dried leaves from his midnight hair, and a lazy smile curled his lips.
“You were nearly deadheaded,” she warned him calmly, but her eyes still crackled, even as she set down the shears and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Why were you sneaking up on me?”
“Practice makes perfect,” he shrugged. “And because I was wonderin’ where ya got off to.”
“Why?” Her eyes settled back to normal; even her hair, which had begun to rise on the wind building inside the chamber, drifted back down against her back. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Nope.” His smile widened as he tramped out from the brush, dusting off his worn, broken-in jeans. He was a striking man, she considered, but cocky to a fault. She remembered the kiss he’d stolen after their workout two days ago and still flushed thinking about it, but she was still taken aback by his cheek. They’d had an audience, for Goddess’ sake…and Logan. Oh, the look on his face! She wanted to sink into the floor.
“There’re plenty of ways to occupy yourself in the house,” she suggested, turning back to her cartons of basil and rosemary.
“I’m more of an outdoor person,” he offered. “Kinda like you.”
“Unlike you, I don’t stalk my teammates, John. That’s a nasty habit.” He jerked back slightly, as though her words socked him in the gut.
“Everyone’s got a few. Did I scare ya?” There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but he was wholly interested in her response.
“No. You unnerved me. Don’t do it again.” She eyed him levelly. “I don’t like it when people try to take advantage of me or catch me unawares, John. If we’d get along, you’ll remember that.”
“That’s another thing I came ta talk to ya about, sweet cheeks,” he sighed, sauntering to the table and seating himself, all crouched muscles and sprawling limbs. “I’m sorry. I know ya were pissed about me samplin’ ya just ta satisfy my curiosity. Figured ya weren’t too happy about it, bein’ that ya electrocuted me. That was new,” he muttered, cocking a brow.
“Nothing says ‘back off’ like a few joules of lightning,” she agreed. “So next time, John, back off. We all need our personal space; I know I need mine.”
“That why yer hidin’ out here?”
“No. I just like getting my hands dirty.”
“Shit. I coulda helped ya with that, if ya’d just asked.” She knew she walked right into that one.
“Scamp. And I’m not hiding. From anyone. I’m just doing a few chores before we head to Deerfield tomorrow.”
“Seems weird,” John mused gruffly. “I know why Chuck wanted us ta come here, and why he left it on the table for us t’stay, but I don’t get why he’s all fired up to bring in a kid.”
“It’s a school,” Ororo argued smoothly. “There’s so much she can learn from him.”
“What’s she really gonna learn? How ta use her powers, or how ta play soldier like us? Have ya asked yerself that since ya came here, babe?”
“I get the feeling you’ve done a lot of that, John. Are you planning to stay? I know Shiro’s set on leaving us, but what about you?”
“Might stay if I had enough of a reason,” he said pointedly, enjoying the picture she made, disheveled and garbed in a simple pair of cut-off shorts and a navy, ribbed cotton tank. Perspiration made her skin dewy, gleaming in the sunlight filtering in through the glass panes; that same light made her hair glow like new clouds.
“It’s up to you to find your own reason to stay, but I know Charles is glad to have you.” Her tone was polite. Ororo began deadheading a rosebush at the end of a row of flowering shrubs. “I know I’m needed here. To teach, and to learn.”
“But ya could do anything.”
“I still can. So can you.”
“I’m straddlin’ the fence,” he admitted. “I know what it’s like ta just be a kid and havin’ someone come along and feed me a line about what I can do ta be a better man, and how ta take care of my own. Used ta be in the Army,” he explained. “Went ta war. Came back a different person. And they recruited me when I wasn’t much more than a kid.”
“I didn’t know that, John.”
“Ain’t much else t’know, Ororo. Except that it’s hard for a guy like me ta trust anyone that comes along singin’ a song about duty and goin’ out to save the day. I don’t regret fightin’ fer my country, but this ain’t much different. Chuck’s just givin’ me nicer digs and a stupider lookin’ uniform, but he’s still expectin’ me, and all of us, ta go out an’ risk our necks. And the problem with that, is that sometimes ya don’t come back.” His body had tensed as he spoke, and there was something in his eyes that reminded her of a wounded little boy, piercing her and pleading with her to understand.
“No. Sometimes you don’t.” He sidled up to her and rolled a recycling bin over for her to throw the dead blossoms into and gathered up the stray ones that had already hit the ground. “You could stay to teach.”
“Depends on what Chuck thinks any kid could learn from me.”
“How to survive and tell about it. You’re hardheaded, cocky and full of yourself. But you’re not a bad man, and Charles didn’t make a foolish decision asking you to join us. Although you might stay out of trouble if you kept your lips to yourself.” Even if they were strong lips…
“It’s gonna be hard, when ya make it so easy,” he drawled. She felt the heat radiating from his solid, powerful body and suppressed a shiver. He was too virile, too sure of himself, and not someone she could take lightly, but she didn’t sense malice or resentment in him at her refusal. If anything, he seemed more determined to watch, wait, and eventually wear her down.
“Let’s revisit when we talked about backing off.” She wheeled the bin outside toward the compost heap, wrinkling her nose at its pungent odor.
“How’d ya know I was in there, anyway? Ya don’t have hearin’ like the runt’s.” Her smile dimpled prettily.
“I didn’t hear you. I have a bond with the earth, but also with living things, anything that shares the earth’s atmosphere. You might as well have been lit up like a billboard,” she demurred, poking him in the ribs, “smarty pants.” He helped her to empty the bin and followed her back inside. “I’m just about done here. I need to go pack for the trip.”
“Just a sec.” She turned to face him expectantly, hands on her hips. “What’s goin’ on with you and the runt?”
“Who…Logan? What do you mean, John?” He watched her close up tighter than an oyster shell, eyes flashing at him and her ripe mouth tightening into a thin line.
“Ain’t too hard ta tell when an animal’s guardin’ its territory, or its pack. Or its mate,” he accused, emphasizing the last word. “Guess which one of the three he thinks you are, Blue Eyes?”
“That’s silly. Ridiculous,” she dismissed, waving away his assumption like a pesky fly. She turned and stalked toward the house, letting her hair whip on the breeze that stirred back to life. While her back was turned to him, she swallowed hard.
“Yeah. Sure it is. I’ve gotta know somethin’, now, if ya don’t mind.”
“You’re awfully full of questions today.”
“Were ya mad that I kissed ya, or that he saw me do it?”
“I think you know why I was upset,” she tossed back.
“Yeah, babe, I think I do,” he murmured softly, watching her leave. Ororo walked proud and tall; her lithe legs flashed and posture was stiff, like a cat with its back up. He’d pissed her off again…Damn.
Charles approached him later that day and asked him to confirm his plans to accompany them to Deerfield for their go-see and admission interview with the Prydes. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the old man he’d be there with bells on. But something tugged at him. The sleek minx needed a lighter touch, and like she suggested, more space for the moment, particularly after their discussion. It just rankled, knowing that smug bastard would have two days to monopolize her attention.
He was game when Kurt, Sean and Scott suggested they’d keep themselves busy as liaisons for the school in the professor’s absence. He begged off to the professor, confessing he didn’t much like flying, anyway, with the exception of the roomy cabin of the Blackbird.
~0~
“What brought ya here, Elf? Wasn’t just because Baldy was rustling up the cavalry.” Kurt’s easy smile dropped when he prodded him, “What were ya runnin’ from?”
“Everything, Proudstar,” he replied. “I was running for my very life. That was how Charles found me.”
“Don’t hate ya ‘cuz yer beautiful, huh? Yeah, that sucks.”
“When I wasn’t dodging the occasional pitchfork or wooden stake, living in the circus wasn’t that bad,” he mused. John eyed him with a modicum of respect.
“Yer whole family in the circus?”
“Only the family that mattered. But I never met the woman who gave birth to me. I’ll never know if…” he bit back his words and turned away a moment to compose himself, rubbing his nape absently. John watched the uniquely thick, dexterous fingers tugging at his wiry curls.
“If she didn’t keep ya because ya look like ya do,” he finished for him.
“Or even if she just couldn’t,” he clarified. “I can live with being a mutant. At the end of the day I’m still a man. It’s having to fight for my very life because I look like a demon that keeps me awake at night.”
“Ever get mad at God fer takin’ away yer chances at a normal life?”
“Nein.” Kurt set down his pool cue and retrieved three of the balls and the triangular rack and commenced to juggle them, flinging them neatly through the air. John rocked back in his seat and threw back his head in incredulous laughter. “Sometimes, normal can be overrated and a crushing bore, Proudstar. I have gifts. I don’t hate the Father who gave them to me. *‘Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.‘ * This is my burden. And helping Charles to help other mutants, or anyone who needs my gifts is my yoke.”
“Fair enough,” John conceded. “Least ya got yer faith.”
“Why did you come here, John?”
“Had somethin’ ta prove. Ta myself. My family. Got a kid brother,” he gestured, digging into his wallet and extracting a cellophane sleeve in the billfold. “Jimmy. Just turned fifteen. Kid takes after me.” Kurt deftly caught each ball, snagging the rack out from mid-air with his barbed tail as he leaned forward for a glimpse.
“Handsome boy. Has a twinkle in his eye. Mutant?”
“We don’t know yet. That picture doesn’t do him justice. When he’s not sitting up on that fence like that, he’s already over six feet, and he’s still growing.”
“Ach!”
“Size twelve shoes. He’s a good kid.” He sighed and shoved his wallet back into his jeans pocket. “I don’t want him ta end up like me. Disappointed that doin’ the right thing didn’t end up bein’ the right thing fer him.”
“He’ll have to determine what the right thing is for himself.” Kurt didn’t ask him to elaborate, sensing something within him that he didn’t want to share; his jaw was set and his posture, stiff.
“I’m thirsty,” he decided.
“Harry’s?” John said hopefully, already rising and reaching for his denim jacket.
“I’ll spring for wings if you buy the beer. Let me go change.” With that, Kurt reached into his pocket for the small module that fit neatly into his palm. He punched the small blue button and John stepped back in response to the sudden crack of sound and light. Kurt’s features and indigo skin shimmered a moment before his body was bathed in a mesh of filaments of light, weaving together and taking form, obscuring the man underneath.
John grumbled in disgust as he took in his friend’s new visage. “Couldn’t do any better than the runt, eh?”
“He’d want to be here to keep you honest, John,” Kurt deadpanned, speaking with Logan’s lips. Every detail was identical, from the flinty eyes to the hairs covering the backs of his hands.
“Just don’t get any ideas, like runnin’ up as high a tab as that asshole. I don’t give a damn if ya did hustle me at pool, ‘Elf. I ain’t rich, and yer not gonna convince me that yer that thirsty.” Kurt clapped him soundly on the back as they headed out to the garage.
~0~
Back in Deerfield, IL:
“Kid talks a mile a minute,” Logan grinned, watching Kitty hug her parents goodbye as they prepared to leave for the ice cream café downtown.
“I like her. A lot,” Ororo admitted, feeling a warm little tickle at the affection between the girl and her parents.
“So ya aren’t nervous anymore, eh?”
“Not so much.”
“Why were ya before?” Kitty ran back upstairs at the last minute to retrieve her purse.
“It’s nothing…it’s just that sometimes, I forget what it was like. Growing up in a home like this. No worries. I didn’t have my parents with me for that long, and I lost them when I was much younger than Kitten.” Her face was wistful and sad, and Logan felt a pang.
“M’sorry.”
“Charles is right to want the best for her and those gifts, even though we don’t know what they are yet. I just don’t know if she needs to be taken from such a loving home.”
“We’ll let Half-Pint decided that fer herself, eh? Think we might’ve earned a few brownie points bringin’ Petey along.” He enjoyed the awkward glances exchanged between their quiet, lumbering teammate and the shy yet exuberant teen.
“That’s awful; don’t tease.”
“Can’t help it. Kid’s in love,” he heckled. She elbowed him sharply. “Hey, don’t knock it. A crush like that strokes a guy’s ego.”
“He’s blushing.”
“He’s enjoyin’ the attention.”
“I hope she likes us,” she said suddenly, and a surge of protective concern rose up inside him. His touch was light as he brushed her arm with his fingers, stroking her reassuringly. Warmth bloomed in her cheeks at the faint contact.
“She likes ya already. Thinks yer the bee’s knees. Couldn’t tell by the way she talked yer ear off, or anything. And just think, ‘Ro, this is her before we feed her full of sugar.”
“We’ll have her back before dark,” Charles promised as they prepared to leave. Kitty was looping a light jacket around her waist, heeding her mother’s warning that the night was going to be cool.
“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” Kitty jerked open the front door, beaming at Piotr once more as he wheeled Charles outside. She then yanked Ororo out the door behind her, followed by a chuckling Logan as he tugged the brim of his Stetson back down over his eyes.
The ice cream café was predictably packed to the rafters with people wanting a cool treat. They ended up at a large booth, and while Logan stepped out to help himself to a cigar, Ororo and Kitty ordered their ice cream. Ororo watched, baffled, as the young girl who couldn’t have weighed more than one-fifteen soaking wet commenced to devour a sundae bigger than her head.
Ororo toyed idly with a modest scoop of mocha almond fudge. “What do you enjoy most about school, Kitten?”
“Science class. Computer lab. Latin. French. Music,” she ticked off. “Gym. Different stuff. The only thing I really hate,” she mused around another quick mouthful of melting vanilla, “is study hall. Well, that and lunch. Food’s nasty,” she grimaced.
“They’re barely feeding you?” Ororo jibed. “Shame on them. A busy woman like you needs her sustenance.”
“I’m always hungry,” she admitted. “Especially lately! Ohmigod, it’s like I can’t stop eating! And I get tired, too, and these headaches that really suck and just kinda come out of nowhere. Like today,” she went on. “I had a real doozy when I came home from dance class.”
“Bad?” Ororo pressed, her expression worried.
“It was the pits. And it’s not just my head that hurts. I kinda ache all over and feel dizzy. Like the floor’s spinning, and kinda like I’m not ‘all there.’ I hate feeling like that. Just…not whole.”
“That would upset me, too,” Ororo agreed, handing her a napkin to wipe off a blob of hot fudge from the corner of her mouth. She thought back to when she was roughly twelve, still under Achmed’s tutelage.
Her vision had changed. Everything was brighter and more intense, resembling layers of energy and static. Almost like patterns. Her head had ached, too, and she felt oversensitized to everything around her. Then one day, she created a rainstorm, and her life was never the same again.
“So you’re a teacher, Ororo?”
“I will be teaching at Charles’ school. Different subjects,” she explained.
“Cool! You’re nicer than the other chick that showed up today. She was just…ick. Snotty. One of those people who just kinda thinks she’s better than everyone else. She was all prissy and her clothes were really low-cut. I think she was showing off to my dad.” Kitty made a face. “And she wore too much perfume.”
“Really?” Ororo was amused. “She came to see your parents today?”
“Yeah…Emma something. Wait…Frost. Yeah. She was weird. Yuck, yuck, yuck! She was all ‘Send your daughter to MY school and look at my cleavage!’” She shrugged and shook herself like a wet dog at the memory, and Ororo hid her face behind her hand as her chest shook.
“We’ll take that under advisement. I think you’ll like the school, though, Kitten.”
“My mom calls me that,” she replied. “It’s, uh, cool if you wanna call me that, too. You’re cool, Ororo. I like your name, too.”
“Thank you,” she beamed.
“Sure. It kinda works for you. You guys seem different. The professor sure seems nice, too, but it’s just funny. I talk to him, and it’s almost like he can tell what I’m thinking!”
“He gives lots of people that impression upon first meeting him, but Charles is a wonderful person and an excellent teacher. He was a lot like you as a young man; he finished school at a young age.”
“Did he move up a couple of grades?”
“He graduated from college before he was old enough to drive.” Kitty was so surprised that she choked, prompting Ororo to lean over the table and give her several whacks on the back.
“Cripes…wow. I mean…wow.”
“He’s very impressed by you, Kitten.”
“Hey, Ororo?”
“Hmmm?”
“Is that Logan guy as he scary as he looks?”
“Logan? I don’t find him scary,” Ororo considered thoughtfully. “He’s an acquired taste, but a good man. Some find him intimidating. Why?”
“Cuz he’s been staring at you since he came back inside.” She nodded toward the ice cream counter, where Logan was, indeed, shooting them furtive looks as he halfheartedly gave the girl behind the counter his order for a soda. “He’s not bad-looking or anything, but he just makes me feel funny when I look at him. Kinda like when you see a dog that you don’t know, and you can’t tell if he’s friendly or not.”
Ororo felt butterflies take wing in her belly as his gaze settled upon her, eating her up. Her cheeks burned, and she tingled from his attention, stoking her feminine pride. They played tag with each other’s glance. “So, do you, you know, like him, like him?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you think he’s cute?”
Cute? That wasn’t a word she’d ever use to describe someone so brash and raw. He was tanned from time spent out on the mansion’s grounds and the adjoining lake, and Logan radiated robust health. The sun brought out auburn glints in his dark hair. He moved fluidly, like some great beast padding across the jungle floor. His body was hewn from solid muscle. He had eyes meant to seduce or to kill with a single look. Either look was dangerous. He was sexy and knew it.
No. She would never, ever call the Wolverine “cute.”
“I suppose he’s cute enough,” she conceded. “Goddess, you weren’t lying when you said you were hungry!” Kitty was already scraping the bottom of the sundae glass, darting for the last of the rich sauce with her spoon. Then Kitty grinned shyly and peered at Ororo through her curtain of glossy brown curls.
“Ororo? Does, uh, Piotr have a girlfriend?”
“Actually, I don’t think-“
“STAND DOWN, MUTIES! NOBODY MOVE!” Piotr was just exiting the men’s room with the Professor and stood on full alert, curling himself around him protectively at the booming voices. Ororo’s blood froze in her veins.
Several men in dark clothing and flack jackets stormed inside, wielding long rifles of unknown caliber and wearing odd masks. Snug polyurethane cowls held them in place and covered their hair, ensuring their identities were completely hidden, but small emblems on their vests were inscribed with a stylized insignia. Piotr made out the shape of a trident.
“I don’t fuckin’ believe this,” Logan spat. SNIKT! “Can’t even get any friggin’ down time in a place like this!” He gestured to them roughly, “Ya wanna go back out the way ya came in, unless ya want ME ta show ya the door!”
“Oh, my God! It’s a MUTANT! Look at his claws, he’s not HUMAN!” a woman behind the counter shrieked, dropping a coffee pot on the floor with a loud crash. Several sets of footsteps could be heard running out the back exit of the kitchen.
Piotr, armor up, son! He obeyed Charles’ order, despite the already paranoid looks from the onlookers in the shop, and his flesh rippled into organic steel. He stood gleaming and imposing before them, and several tables of people fell back, edging away as far as they could. The mercs eyed him, sizing him up and calculating how to deal with this new, unexpected threat.
“Don’t hurt us, ohpleasepleasepleaseplease!” They weren’t begging the gunmen, to Ororo’s disgust. They were begging, soft-spoken, gentle Piotr.
“You’re the ones leaving, muties,” snarled their leader, cocking his gun pointedly and aiming it straight at his chest. “Say goodnight, asshole!” BOOM! A smoking shell discharged from the barrel and struck Logan squarely in the chest. Fissures of green gas hissed out as it exploded upon impact, making Logan choke and cough and knocking him off of his feet.
“WOLVERINE!” Ororo cried, leaping up and flanking Kitty, protecting her with her body. “What have you DONE to him? Kitten, get down!” Outside the sky darkened with rolling storm clouds; thunder boomed and cracked overhead. Electricity sparked in Ororo’s eyes and made her hair, previously restrained in a low bun, whip free and crackle around her head. She felt Kitty’s terror at her back and bit back regret. She wanted to win the child’s trust.
She’d settle for saving her life.
“You’ll get your turn, just keep talking, bitch! I said STAND DOWN!”
“I think not,” she informed him before she gestured and flung her fist in an arc through the air, harnessing hurricane-level wind to batter him senseless. Her wallop packed as much bang for the buck as a prizefighter’s right hook. “YOU want to stand back, now!” He was blown back into two of his fellow mercs, knocking them off their feet. Several of the patrons took the opportunity to slip outside, heedless of unpaid tabs or the safety of the mutants in the café.
“You heard the kind lady,” Piotr added grimly, circling the professor shielding him from an energy bolt discharged from another of their rifles. He grunted slightly; he felt the brunt of the hit even armored in steel. CRUNKKK! He yanked the nearest table out of the floor, popping the bolts and crumpling the Formica top, and he used it as a battering ram as two more of their attackers rushed him. They toppled but remained in the game, protected by their own armor and Kevlar.
Ororo, behind you! She managed to duck as one of the men swung for her head with the stock of the rifle, barely missing her. She lunged, using her lithe leg to sweep him off his feet; before he could recover, she grabbed his weapon and gripped it tightly, channeling enough lightning through it to deactivate it. The café filled with the scent of smoking metal.
Constricting coils bound her as one of the men hit her with something resembling a grenade. The mesh was woven from steel cable microfilaments, impenetrable to most types of force. Tiny hooks anchored her to the wall, immobilizing her and pinning her limbs.
All Logan could see was her face twisted in horror.
“Ohmigod! Help her!” Kitty shouted, tears brimming in her eyes as she scrambled back into the corner of the booth.
“Get clear, punkin’!” Fear paralyzed her as the burly guy with the Canadian accent ran back into the fray, virtually untouched and uninjured by the gas. His Stetson was gone, giving her a good look at his wild hair, seeming to grow in spiky peaks that resembled horns, a devil’s or bull’s, she couldn’t guess. His eyes were fierce, and full of something that looked like murder at the sight of the woman pinned against the wall. “RO! I’m comin’ darlin’!” he roared. Piotr was already there, digging his fingers into the mesh and pulling with all of his might, but it remained undamaged and unyielding, actually tightening around her body even further. Her cheeks grew gray as her panic and claustrophobia set in.
“Gotta get free, can’t breathe!” she gasped. Piotr’s eyes widened in understanding, but pain wracked his features one of the mercs blasted him again, this time with a long whip that coiled around his waist, emitting crackling electricity that rippled through his nerves.
“BOSZHE MOI! AAARRRRGGGHHH!” His metal body acted as a conductor, amplifying the charge. Unfortunately he was still grasping the mesh trap, conducting the charge through it and shocking Ororo as he fell limp. Her shrieks were sharp and chilled Kitty’s blood.
“Sonsa’fbitches!” Logan snarled, claws flashing as he first slashed the whip, disrupting the charge coursing through Piotr, cursing as he received a partial shock that singed the hair on his arms. “They planned this shit! Chuck, they kayoed Petey!”
Keep it together, Logan, don’t do anything rash…
“This is what I think of yer fuckin’ toys!” he bellowed, cleaving through one of the mercs’ Kevlar like it was butter. His eyes looked horrified through the slits of the mask, but Logan surprised him, merely kicking him in the jaw and knocking him out. He felt another at his back. He reflexively twisted himself, arcing his claws neatly through the air and slashing through the raised rifle before the man could even pull the trigger. “Ya don’t wanna get in my way!” he hissed, focusing once more on Ororo as he made it to her side. “Darlin’?”
“Yes?” she rasped.
“Lean back!” SLASH! With a lone claw, he sliced through the cable mesh, freeing her and catching her before she could fall. “Shit!” he swore. She felt limp and weak in his arms and her pulse was slightly weak, but he heard her heartbeat speed up as he lent her his strength. Perspiration marred her scent, testament to the panic that gripped her. “Ya alright, darlin’?”
“*KOFF!* Not…yet. Been better. KITTEN!” She reached around him, eyes blazing again and scaring him out of ten years of who knew how many he had left “ he’d stopped counting a long time ago “ and stretched out her hand, launching tennis ball-sized hail at the merc attempting to pry Kitty out of the booth by the wrist.
“Don’t hurt me, let me go!” she whimpered. She put up a struggle, nearly twisting herself free. Ororo’s hailstones struck him in the back, winding him and knocking her out of his grip. She stumbled back, evading his body that threatened to pin her. “NO!”
She fell back, bracing herself for the brunt of the shop window.
She landed hard, hitting the back of her head against something solid. She saw stars and heard her own cry for mercy before she blacked out on the ground. The sounds from the clamor inside and the flickering lights drew bystanders outside who witnessed the patrons running for safety.
STOP! Their attackers staggered beneath the backlash of the professor’s psychic call, focusing on them long enough to seize control of their minds, blocking the pathways to their nervous system wherever they stood.
“What the flamin’…what the hell happened?” Logan demanded as Piotr rose and shook himself, clutching his head. Ororo scrambled back from one of the fallen men who tried to grab her, rushing over to Charles.
“It was you,” she breathed, checking him over for injury. “You’re all right!” she cried, flinging her arms around him, sheltering him like a baby bird.
“I couldn’t latch onto all of their thoughts at once. It’s strange; there was a barrier of sorts around their thoughts that I couldn’t quite penet-“ He flailed in his chair, his blue eyes rolling back before he collapsed.
“CHARLES!” Ororo screamed, clutching him and feeling for his pulse. “GODDESS!”
“We gotta move, there’s somethin’ in here still-holy…shit…” Logan’s voice died in his throat. Piercing fire punched through his brain and nerve endings as his thoughts dissolved.
Ororo and Piotr lay crumpled beside him like discarded dolls. The shop was silent except for the bits of plaster hitting the floor from holes in the walls and dripping water behind the counters.
The front door of the shop squealed open on its hinge. White suede pumps nimbly dodged the rubble on the floor. “That was easier than I thought,” a lilting voice murmured.
“The targets have been immobilized, Highness.”
“So I see.” She frowned thoughtfully as her blue eyes scanned the shop. “Where’s the brat?”
“Shit! She was over there,” he insisted, rubbing his nape. “She can’t have gotten far, she isn’t even old enough to drive. We’ll check out back!”
“You failed,” she intoned icily. Her delicate features hardened into a ruthless mask. “The Hellfire Club doesn’t tolerate failure, and neither do I, Atkins.”
“Highness,” he pleaded, shrinking back from the look in her eyes. She extended one slender hand toward him and twisted her fingers into a fist. “UUURRRRKKKKK!” He gurgled and twisted as he fell to the floor. His body twitched listlessly before his eyes went blank. She sighed, shaking her head.
“Good night, Atkins. Sleep well.” Aneurysms were one of the sharpest tools in her arsenal. She sauntered over toward the wheelchair-bound man, slumped over the body of the woman who passed her that afternoon. “You gave me quite the struggle, old man,” she purred. “You won’t do it again. I promise you.” She nudged Ororo’s limp form with her shoe, firmly enough to make her roll onto her back. “Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” she tsked. “But what fabulous power. I can’t wait to play with her. Shaw will be delighted.”
“We’ll bring the shuttle around back,” she was informed by one of her attendants, wearing the red vest of the Hellfire elite guard.
“I thought there would be more of them showing up by now. You’d think they’d have called home to let someone know they’d arrived. Careless, careless, careless. And they call themselves heroes.” Then she nodded back to him. “Go ahead. Load ‘em up, boys. Then I want you to fan out. Find the girl. Bring her back unharmed.” Then she amended that. “She doesn’t have to be conscious.” He patted the cartridges tucked into his belt.
“As my Queen commands,” he swore, bowing and grasping the sleeve of Logan’s ruined shirt. He grunted uncomfortably. “Christ, guy weighs a ton!”
“It’ll take four of you to haul him out,” she promised. “Gads, it’s been a long day.” She tapped out a cigarette from a silver case in her purse. “I need a smoke.”
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