Treasures in Heaven Christian Mission Orphanage, Kenya


“How long has she been like this?�

“She was brought in with the last group of refugees.�

“Alone?�

“They dug her parents’ bodies out of the wreckage. She was found next to her mother. She’d already been dead for hours.�

“Poor wee bairn,� tsked the visitor, reflexively caressing the glass of the observation window to the nursery as though she could reach out and pat the skittish, solitary little girl playing with a stack of dented wooden blocks. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?�

“Oh, I know. She’s darling. The staff loves her. Hardly makes a peep until it’s time to come back inside. Then she just drags her feet and all but twists her neck off her shoulders, staring back at the playground and looking like most of the munchkins here would if they dropped their ice cream on the ground.�

“So she just plays alone?�

“Most of the time. She prefers her own company to anyone else. Every now and again, little Japheth can get her to come out of her shell.�

“Japheth? Which laddie is he?�

“We brought him when his village’s water supply was infested with parasites. Japheth came in with the worst case of tapeworm that we’d ever seen. Malnourished, dehydrated, and he had Kwashiorkor so badly that his hair turned a strange shade of silver instead of the rusty brown we’re so accustomed to.�

“Where is he now?�

“Outside, beating all of the older children at a game of Simon Says.� The visitor gazed out the window to the courtyard and found himself grinning at a small boy of about nine, hopping on one foot and grinning when three of the urchins in the group imitated the gesture, then threw up their hands in defeat when they were called out.

“He didn’t say Simon Says,� the visitor chuckled.

“Nope. He’s good. Too good.� He was surprised that the headmistress didn’t exaggerate her claim. The boy’s wiry hair was streaked with odd, silvery tufts, despite the healthy color in his cheeks. “So how long will you be staying, Doctor MacTaggert?�

“I’ve a few more weeks left to my sabbatical.� The visitor was fresh-faced and pretty like the girl next door, but not like any girl from any of the neighborhoods she’d been frequenting for the past ten months. Her glossy brown hair was skinned back in a short ponytail that barely dusted the collar of her khaki linen tunic. Loose, white linen pants allowed air to kiss her skin and let her legs breathe in the humid climate that made her feel drenched as soon as she stepped outside. Occasionally dark, inquisitive eyes would peer back at her from the other side of the glass. Moira indulged it and repaid their cheekiness with puff-cheeked, eye-rolling looks, accompanied by sticking her thumbs in her ears and waggling her fingers. That sent more than one child running off smuggling their giggles within clenched fists, hiding gappy teeth. “I ken my fiancée will miss me if I stay much longer.� She reached back to swipe at the sweat running down her nape. The diamond solitaire caught a few minute strands of hair, ripping them loose from her tidy coif. She stifled a curse and winced at the discomfort. The headmistress peeked at the ring with a knowing glance.

“It looks like he never wanted to let you leave. It’s beautiful,� she added, nodding at the engagement band.

“I’m lucky to have him. I’m glad that he would have me,� she smiled. Lucky, she mused. Charles had walked away on what she had to offer. On what they had. The ring was a necessary ruse. She wore it like armor against the stares of prowling locals who didn’t believe that this delicate Caucasian woman was living among them on a “Doctors Without Borders� stipend. The headmistress was one of the select few who knew her credentials and pedigree before she even walked through the door. She’d received her personnel file before she was retrieved from the tiny, industrial airport and collected by a paid guide who brought her to the orphanage in a tiny Jeep that was in painful need of new shocks. Every tendon and hamstring from waist to ankle ached for weeks after that jaunting, two-hour ride.

But it had been worth it. The children were worth it.

“Kevin’s about Japheth’s age,� Moira murmured aloud, unable to help it.

“Excuse me?�

“Och! Dinnae mind me, lass. I’m just talkin’ t’meself.� She waved away her curious look. The headmistress reluctantly tore her eyes away from her, deciding that brilliant doctors like Moira were perhaps just eccentric in their ways. That could be excused if she could turn the tides of the rash of new diseases spreading through the village.

Something had to be done for Ororo, and Japheth, and all of the other children afflicted or subsequently abandoned because they were different. Cursed, some said. The headmistress stared at Ororo, watching her play fix a tea party for a random gathering of dollies at the battered wooden table. She spoke to them and pursed her little rosebud mouth around the edge of the chipped willow patterned cup and took an exaggerated pretend drink. Then, as if she felt the doctor’s stare, she turned around and leveled her with a gaze that made her tingle. Her eyes were tourmaline blue, clear, and positively ancient.

No five-year-old’s looked like that with such canny wisdom and told tales of things she should never have witnessed. This was a child, Moira thought, who has seen Judgment Day over the horizon, and shrugged with indifference. She set the cup back on its tiny saucer and folded her little hands in her lap, staring expectantly at Moira. Moira offered up a smile that she prayed held no malice.

“She’s trying to figure you out,� the headmistress suggested.

“She already has.� Ororo gave her a slow-spreading smile, then ducked her face into her thick white hair, hiding the radiant expression before it reached its full wattage. She waved back, then went back to her dollies and served another round of tea.

October 19, Physician’s Report:

The conditions here in the orphanage and the surrounding community continue to be desperate, and the facility is still underfunded, but the staff and volunteers are making do with what they have. Due to a recent incursion, more youngsters arrived in dead of night two weeks ago. I am still attempting to study my young charges who were the focus of previous log entries.

Ororo is a child of greater than average height for her age and lower than average weight. Her cranial circumference is normal, and she has not outward physican defects or abnormalities. Her color is healthy; she doesn’t appear to have any heart arrhythmias or murmurs, unless subjected to extreme duress. She is a bright and cooperative child most of the time. She is sturdy-limbed and has more than adequate hand-to-eye coordination.

Ororo has striking features worth noting: hair that appears to be a distinct, snowy white, not blonde as was previously described. Her eyes are an equally striking shade of blue, unique for this region’s people. The irises are a pronounced shade of turquoise in most lights. Their shape is unique, having a well-defined slant, reminiscent of Egyptian statues seen in art history books.

“Throw us the ball, Ororo! Throw it!� Moira looked up from the journal laid open on top of the rickety picnic table. Ororo was seated pristinely, spanking clean in a faded cotton dress. She was contentedly brushing her dollie’s hair, made of tufted yarn when the red kick ball careened over, bouncing off her skin where she sat. She didn’t protest the intrusion of her personal space; she watched them as Japheth ran up and stopped several yards away.

“C’mon, Ororo, give a boykie his ball, ya know?� he piped up. His legs looked like toothpicks sticking out from his baggy seersucker shorts. She stood up, setting down her dollie. She picked up the ball with both hands, throwing it squarely from the center of her chest with an exaggerated heave. Japheth caught it and rocked back on his heels, wringing one hand as though it stung him. “S’true Bob, Ororo’s big and strong!� The gang of rowdy boys snickered and eyed each other knowingly, while Japheth grinned at her with his gappy teeth. Ororo resumed her seat but kept a quiet vigil, her doll hugged to her check as she watched their game. Moira sighed; at tiny voice in her head nagged her to find some way to include the child in playtime activities. She continued writing, reviewing her notes so far:

Ororo is occasionally a very guarded youngster. She favors certain toys more than others, particularly those she can play with individually rather than amid a group setting. She will shaer a toy when asked, although sometimes, she is slightly bossy with the younger bairns. Moira chuckled, then added Perhaps she would have made some wee lad or lassie a grand older sister. Mothering, or perhaps teaching, may be in her future, if she has the best one that this facility can offer. Suddenly she stopped herself.

“The best the facility can offer,� she huffed under her breath. “Holy Father, I must be daft!�

This wasn’t the best that life had to offer a child in this impoverished, besieged corner of the world. Moira watched Ororo sitting pensively and longed to pack her meager belongings, pick her up, and board a Jeep for the next airport.

She silently reviewed her options and resources. Once her sabbatical was at an end, she could resume her residency at Kinross. Maeve, her housekeeper, was keeping the estate in fine shape and sending regular telegrams of Kevin’s progress.

The lad’s father hadn’t visited him in over a year. She fingered the solitaire and twisted it in a circle around her finger, cursing Joe for his selfishness and short-sightedness.

Ye kinna be so bold, lass, as tae pass him off as m’own. The laddie’s nae any son of mine! Dinna LIE t’me, Moira! Blood rushed in her ears, and she pressed her fingers into her temples, urging the throbbing to subside. She shuddered, hearing his laps ring out against her flesh, practically echoing in their bedchamber. Like someone striking an oak with an axe, she thought bitterly. Both strikes sounded the same.

The throbbing intensified, bringing with it a stubborn tingle behind her eyes, making them water.

*Moira…*

“Charles?� she whispered. The faint, familiar caress against the portal of her thoughts stilled her, and to the casual observer, she appeared thunderstruck.

Tiny, chubby fingers tapped her, rousing her from her trance. She whipped around and peered down into soft, solemn eyes, blue and clear as crystal.

“Ook-it. Ook-it may bay-bee,� she beckoned imperiously. Her speech was more affected by the limitations of her five-year-old diction than any regional inflection. Moira read in her files that her father was an American.

“Aye, lassie! Look at yuir wee bairn! She’s a bonny, sweet babe,� Moira encouraged. “Yuir a good mummy, too!� The child studied her dollie intently, peered back at Moira, and then solemnly leaned down and kissed the dollie’s cloth cheek with a soft “mmmm…wuah!� sound and emphatic puckering of her rosebud mouth.

“She’s mai bay-bee, ook-it,� she repeated. “Bay-bee s’eepy.� She tucked the doll against her shoulder and patted its back, rocking her little body in an exaggerated imitation of the volunteers in the infant rooms.

“Well, now, lassie, how would ye like tae visit the nursery and see the other babies?�

“More bay-bees?� She bounced up on her toes expectantly, and her hand crept into Moira’s without further preamble, a silent command easily understood: Take me to see the babies, then. Moira chuckled.

“The nursery it is, then.� The trotted off to the infant suites, and Moira conducted her checkups of the newer arrivals, making more notes while one of the volunteers allowed Ororo to sit with a seven-month held on her lap on the floor, feeding her a bottle with mixed success. Ororo proved to be an enthusiastic helper, bringing nappies and cornstarch powder when asked and playing peekaboo with children resting in play yards, staring back at her with saucer-like eyes.

The next few days proved uneventful but restless. Moira occasionally felt Charles beckoning to her again, but the impressions were still faint, the words nearly indiscernible. Sometimes, it was merely vestiges of emotion that she received from him. Wistfulness. Regret. Entreaty. And on brighter days, warmth and admiration.

“I miss ye, too, Charley,� she sighed one night before slipping between the rough, clean sheets before pulling the mosquito netting closed. Out of long habit, she kept her shields down, allowing him to come and go as he pleased. The blanket of trust between them remained, even as the love faded and was replaced by the friendship that lasted nearly a decade.


Cairo, Egypt:

*Moira?*

Charles sipped from his cup of dark coffee, wincing slightly at the bitterness of the local roast. The tavern’s interior was dark and cool, promising patrons the mother of all headaches when they exited to the brightness of outdoors in the midday heat. Charles felt the perspiration cooling beneath his khaki shirt, making his flesh feel clammy. He hadn’t felt dry for longer than mere minutes over the past week that he’d been on his tour of duty.

He had the comfort of knowing Moira wasn’t ignoring him. Her thoughts were liquid, smooth, and soothing as a cup of his favorite English breakfast tea. It had been months since he had last been within range to hear her; it was not often they were on the same side of the equator lately. Some things never changed, he mused. Bitterness, regret, and a nostalgic longing for the way things were, once, flavored the rapport between them and made his insides twist.

Dimly he wondered if her hair still held that scent of gardenias. If her skin still felt petal soft. If her voice still held that distinctive burr of her homeland, thick as syrup.

�More coffee? You want breakfast? Do you need a room?� Charles hid his distaste for his surroundings behind a gentle smile as he set down his coffee cup. His Egyptian was slightly rusty, but he avoided scanning the thoughts of the waiter, whose skin gleamed with perspiration from the hellishly steamy kitchen. He was swarthy and young, lean as a whippet, and already had the slightly jaded look of the patrons he’d observed so far filing in and out of this dark watering hole.

�I’m fine, thank you. I have accommodations in town already.

“Perhaps…you need other luxuries we provide, no? Games?� He looked over his shoulder, nodding to the lounge in the back of the bar, where women congregated indolently around the doorway, leaning with arched backs and pouting lips against the frame, limp cigarettes dangling from their fingertips. Some of them were well-lacquered, preening like sleek cats. It was their eyes that put him off, aside from any scruples of conscience. “Company?�

“I require nothing else.� He saluted him, raising his cup in dismissal. The waiter sighed and shook his head, smiling at him as though he were deficient. Charles watched him meander off and sighed, trying to stifle his urge to shoo the young man out, to find himself something more promising of a hopeful future than to nudge tourists toward certain ruin from local indulgences. He couldn’t fix the problem, but he refused to feed it.

Unbidden, words drifted into his consciousness that froze his blood in his veins.

Be honest, Charles. Everyone requires something. You’ve denied those needs through an exaggerated sense of nobility, my friend. Two such men as you and I need deny ourselves nothing.

Charles let his cup clatter back onto the chipped saucer, his fingers nerveless. His slate blue eyes flitted through the tavern, scanning the interior for the source of the voice, slightly accented and deep. Not spoken. The words were projected.

Charles stood and stretched, then dug in his hip pocket for this battered billfold. He reached into it and extracted a small note, tucking the bill beneath it. He nodded to the steward behind the bar, who was wiping down a plate with a graying dishrag, before he turned toward the rear of the bar. The steward assumed that like most of the tourists who frequented the Pharaoh’s Pearl, he meant to partake of the hospitality offered by the women’s lounge. His scrubbing of the plate with the rag ceased as he watched him stroll quietly into the gambling den. The steward sized him up carefully; the foreigner was a fair-skinned Caucasian, slightly tanned from less than a week in the humid climes. He was tall, standing slightly over six feet, his body lean and spare with broad shoulders. He wore khakis and a wide-brimmed hat with the elegance of someone dressed in black tie and tails, and his posture was ramrod-straight, like someone with military bearing. He was self-possessed and emanated quiet dignity. He appeared to be bald beneath the hat, but his face was young and almost completely unlined except for tiny crinkles around his eyes, characteristic of someone who smiled easily and warmly. Dark, saturnine brows, a firm jaw and patrician profile were visible below the brim of his cap, and his eyes were barely discernible from his perch behind the bar.

And, the steward thought, he had elephantine balls to venture back into the gambling den…

The gambling den was steeped in the same darkness that permeated the rest of the tavern, but the air was staler and rife with the sour stench of sweat and old, warm liquor. A ring of men clustered like magpies around a wide, round table lined in worn green felt. Tidy stacks of chips and weeping glasses occupied it, and Charles was awed by a mountain of a man who appeared to be their leader, if he could be called that.

He was obese, seated on a wide bench instead of the armed chair with peeling nailhead upholstery. Like Charles, he was bald, but he wore a red velvet fez atop his head, making his wobbling triple-chin seem more prominent. Beady, cruel eyes peered back at Charles from behind small-rimmed, dark glasses. His features were handsome enough, but malevolence rose from him like steam from the pavement outside. Like Charles, he was garbed in khaki and linen; sweat pooled in patches through the fabric of his shirt across his fleshy, corpulent chest.

He raised his glass in a salute. His guests stopped chattering and ceased their laughter as one, turning to face the new visitor in their midst. They sized him up; Charles made free rein of his gifts, skimming the surface of their thoughts, even though the intent in their eyes was clear: He was an easy mark. He sensed their deference to the man in the glasses, as well as even measures of fear and loathing. They needed him.

He owned them.

“Charles,� he purred. “Sit. Drink. Make yourself at home,� he offered silkily. His English was flawless. His compatriots eyed their cards uneasily, occasionally peering back at Charles with disgust. They wanted to get back to the game at hand. Charles was about to speak, but he was interrupted by a dismissive gesture of his host’s thick-fingered, broad hand. “You know how I am doing this. We are worldly men, Charles. Don’t ask the obvious. It is beneath you. And me.�

What do you want of me? Charles felt his temples begin to throb; the energy was charged in the tiny chamber, and he felt himself growing dizzy from trying to lock his thoughts, bolstering his psychic shields. He knew it was the doing of his host.

“A bargain. A partnership, if you will. And the chance to discuss those terms privately,� he continued. He scratched his stomach distractedly, and Charles heard the squeak of chairs being pushed back as, moving as one person, all five of the participants in the poker match scooted back from the table and exited the den. Their eyes were blank and hollow, and Charles felt an unwelcome chill shiver down his spine.

Charles took up the abandoned chair opposite his host. When seated, they were nearly of a height.

“You know what I am, Xavier,� he began, fortifying himself with several noisy gulps from his glass of whiskey.

“I don’t know who you are,� he pointed out.

“Ever the courteous gentleman. The world is an open book to a telepath, yet you persist in observing the niceties of allowing those around you their most clandestine thoughts, Charles. I am Amahl Farouk. I consider myself a broker of sorts. A humble businessman with far-reaching hands.�

“I have obligations elsewhere. I’m merely completing a tour of duty,� Charles explained. “Is this where you conduct all of your business dealings, Farouk?� Charles nodded to their dingy surroundings.

“Only for the ones that mean the most to me, and where I stand to gain the sweetest profit. What’s the harm in mixing work and pleasure?�

“It’s hard not to blur the line.� Charles leaned back in his seat and measured him.

“I felt your presence as soon as you entered my establishment. You come from abroad. Unmarried. No family connections. Orphaned, in fact. A man of science?� Charles nodded.

“I studied at Oxford. Psychology, physics, and genetics.� He didn’t add that he graduated at the top of his class, alongside Moira and Magnus. Charles was never a boastful man, feeling his accomplishments gained nothing in value from wearing them like a badge.

“Yet you answered the call to arms?� Farouk tsked. “One could ask why, then, Charles, would you spend so many years studying to improve the lot of your fellow man, only to fight a war that will take so many lives? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?� Charles saw how neatly he had been snared, and allowed himself a brief smile.

“Taking lives for a cause and self-defense and controlling them for one’s own pleasure and amusement are two different things, particularly when the former is rare, and the latter is done with little discretion.� Wartime showed Charles sights that would never let him sleep a quiet night again, screams printed indelibly on his conscience; his sole comfort was that he had done what he had to do.

“Who needs discretion, when you have the winning hand? And when you hold something more valuable than chips to up the ante?�

“You have a gift, and this is how you choose to use it.� Charles didn’t phrase it as a question.

“The world is unkind to those it sees as different. One can be the lion, or one can be the gazelle. If you wouldn’t be the lion, then prepare to run. It’s that simple.� He drained the last of his whiskey and slammed his glass down on the table with a hollow thunk. “Spend your life running until you drop. Or consider the bargain that I offer you, Charles.�

“What kind of bargain?� Charles felt the seductive pull of hovering closer to a magnificent flower, swaying and opening its petals, waiting for it to snare and devour him.

“I have far-reaching hands. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t use another pair,� he chuckled. “Think about it, Xavier. I own a piece of everything in this quarter of the city. Gaming hells. Brothels. Arms dealerships. Pawn shops and antiques. Diamonds. Narcotics. Name your pleasure. Or your poison. Your tour is nearly at an end. Once you return to your homeland, what awaits you? Months of establishing yourself in your field? Perhaps writing a thesis or two? Living again in a world that hates and fears people like us?�

“Or remaining here, hiding myself like a rat, ruling over the city’s parasites?� Charles drummed his fingers impatiently. “Preying on the helpless? Feeding on children?� Charles nodded to a serving girl who could have been no older than thirteen, attired in a skimpy dress and large hoop earrings. She stopped by the table and set down Farouk’s drink, clearing away the empty glass and wiping away the sweat ring with a folded cloth. Charles sensed the revulsion in her thoughts, but she merely smiled down at her employer as he reached out to fondle her rump, letting his hand linger long enough for Charles to want to leap across the table and strangle him. Her emotions assailed him, cringing at the indignity and violation of her personal space, to say nothing of her thoughts.

She froze in her steps, and a strange, blank expression crept over her face, glistening with cosmetics. Charles felt the force of Farouk’s possession of her, thrumming with energy as she numbly set down the tray, then lowered herself to her knees. Farouk leaned down and caressed her face.

“I never bluff, Xavier. Remember that. I hold all the winning cards.� He watched in revulsion as the girl leaned in, rapt, and lifted a trembling hand to the buckle of his wide belt, unfastening it. Finally it was too much.

She halted her task, trembling as she came back to her senses. Farouk shot Charles a venomous look as his psychic hold on her was rudely interrupted.

“Go now, child, you are no longer needed here,� he assured her. She needed no further bidding and scurried out of the den. Her relief and terror were palpable, and Charles had decided he had enough.

“You could widen my network, Charles. Think of it. I am not the only one of our kind you have ever crossed paths with. I know you have found others like us. I know you can find more. Think of the possibilities! Mercenaries who cannot be killed in their line of work! Nothing would stand in the way of shipments to the highest bidders and buyers. You can sense them, Charles. Feel their power resonating in you, like footsteps vibrating through the ground. We are few, Charles, but our power is great. We can rule over all that we see, or choose foolish notions of nobility. Of a dream that will never be realized while you fight for other people’s causes, wasting your mind and your influence. A life of pleasures you cannot imagine…nothing would be beyond your grasp. Even a lost love…�

Charles suppressed a shudder, then regretted the mind touch with Moira earlier, never knowing it would be detected.

“You still care for her, yes?�

“That’s none of your concern.�

“She’s barely within my range,� Farouk admitted. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,� he tsked, shrugging. Charles stood, mentally shaking himself of the filth that pervaded this place and that seemed to cover him like a blanket.

“Think about what I said,� he called after him softly. “And think about what you stand to lose.�

Farouk? Charles turned back and studied him, letting the sight of him burn itself into his memory. Don’t provoke me.

The next day:

Moira allowed herself a moment to enjoy the gentle whirr and cool air offered by the electric fan in the headmistress’s office.

“You are sure you wish to go forward with this?�

“I kinna leave her here. I want to adopt her,� Moira declared, twisting her hands in her lap.

“Dr. Mactaggart, we all want to do our part to help these children…it’s difficult when we get volunteers and people coming from overseas who are unfamiliar with how things are here. Everyone comes in with a glamorous idea of ‘rescuing’ the village and the orphanage, one child at a time.�

“Initially I came to observe, as well as t’help however I could.�

“And you were a great help. We want to extend our thanks for helping us to keep the children inoculated and immunized properly against so many of the illnesses that befall them, and for helping us make progress with sanitizing the water supply. Every little bit helps.� She skimmed the sheaf of papers she held in her hands, then stared pointedly at Moira. “You say you wish to adopt Ororo. I know you have developed an attachment to her. All of us have, honestly. She is easy to love.�

“Aye. That she is, the little rascal,� Moira chuckled. “I think she would find a warm and loving home with me. I own an estate in Kinross, Scotland.�

“I’ve never been there. What’s it like?�

“A definite departure from what she’s used to. We dinnae have a problem with droughts where I live. She would have her fair share of rain throughout the year. I own a fair amount of land, too, and keep a large stable. The wee lassie would learn how t’ride, if she likes.�

“What of her education?�

“The finest that money could buy. We’ve some fine schools in our district, or, if she finds that overwhelming at first, we could consider hiring a tutor.�

“Ororo is a unique child,� the headmistress reminded her. “Not many people look like her. How do you think she would be received in Scotland?� Moira was nonplussed.

“How has she been received here?� She was still perspiring despite the breeze afforded by the fan, and she made futile efforts at fanning herself with her hand, whipping the neckline of her top away from her chest to create a pocket of cooler air. “Anyone who sees yon lassie with her hair, eyes, and looks in general will be shocked by her, no matter where she goes. That’s a given, but it wouldn’t serve her tae be sequestered in this tiny place tae protect her from the world at large, would it? She needs tae experience new things and new folk, something in which she’s limited in here, don’t ye ken?�

“You’re a doctor, and more importantly, a researcher.� The headmistress templed her fingers under her chin. “Would she be your daughter, Moira, or your pet project?�

“I beg yuir bluidy pardon?!?�

“You’ve been studying anomalies in the physiology of children in this region,� she replied, her tone blunt. “You’ve never really explained why.�

“Malnutrition and its effects need to be documented; it will bring you one step closer to stopping its causes, and generating more financial support from people who deem it a worthwhile cause. There are different environmental factors that affect people here, but it is most noticeable in the children. Japheth is an excellent example of what can happen when conditions like his continue unchecked.�

“So why not him? Why Ororo? She’s sturdy and shows good health. The other volunteers and staff are making some progress with her now as it is.�

“Japheth is not necessarily an orphan. He was separated from his parents, and he came here with his two younger brothers. Daniel and Lot would hate tae be separated from their brother, and I imagine they wouldn’t want tae travel far from where they could possibly contact their mum and dad again. Believe me when I say I’ve grown quite fond of the little laddie, too.�

The headmistress sighed heavily. “There’s paperwork. Tons of it. You’ll need her birth records. Your character will be assessed by our panel, all the way down to whether you had cornflakes for breakfast. This is an arduous process, Moira. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.� Moira’s stomach clenched, but she nodded mutely. The matter of her absent husband was one that would no doubt come under scrutiny, but there were strings that could be pulled, if need be.

Outside in the courtyard, another meeting was underway, but with a considerably different purpose.

“I double-dog dare you,� jeered a slender twelve-year-old with a mean scar across his cheek. He’d been rescued from a life of roaming the villages as a child soldier and brought to the orphanage from the back of a dirty pick-up truck with roughly a dozen refugees. This was the first home he’d had with indoor plumbing and adequate food where he hadn’t had to scavenge in the trash or pick through leftovers from outdoor cafes. He’d found a friend to both confide in and goad into trouble with little Japheth, and the other gang of little boys surrounded them, playing a game of jacks.

“We’ll get into trouble,� he argued, flicking his silver-topped head toward the workmen who were unloading things from the back of the Jeep. “They’ll see us if we do it. Ain’t like a boykie’s got any money, y’know? We can’t just head into town without anything t’spend.�

“We can make money in town,� he reasoned, scratching his scar, which itched abominably. Japheth cringed at the gesture, feeling sympathetic pain for his friend at what must have put it there. “We can find work at the Pharaoh’s Pearl. Word is he hires anyone to help him.�

“Help him do what?�

“Anything. Everything. He has big money, and we can roll with him!� It sounded like a likely story. Japheth eyed Everett and considered his words. To him, anything was better than being dragged from village to village, a gun slung across his back to be tortured and used every night…

He had no clue that Farouk dwarfed any other threat he could think of.

“What’s the matter, Japh? You scared? Japheth’s a baby,� he crowed, pointing his finger with disdain.

“Am not,� he griped. He searched the ring of his peers for anyone sympathetic to the third degree he was receiving, and found Ororo seated in the dirt, once again playing with her dollies. He felt a wave of nausea that weakened him and made his knees wobble. The spells had been more frequent lately, but nothing the staff of the orphanage had done for him seemed to give him any relief. His special protein meals were tasteless but a necessary evil. “Ororo doesn’t think I’m a baby,� he announced. “Do you, Ororo?� he called out. She looked up from her grooming session with the doll, and waved with the hand holding the brush. “She thinks I’m a big man,� he huffed.

“Prove it, then,� Everett sneered. “Climb in. Ride into town, then come back and tell us how it was.�

“You do it,� Japheth insisted petulantly. “Show me how, then, if you’re such a big man and y’think y’can work with this Farouk!� He began to walk away from their jeers.

“Baby,� Everett accused. “Little mommy’s boy.�

The image sprang unbidden and unwelcome in his mind of his mother’s tearstained face, the night before he ran away. He clenched his bony fists at his sides.

“Leave Mum out of this,� he hissed. He watched the workmen standing outside the gate of the orphanage, signing a requisition slip and delivery voucher for one of the housekeepers. Their backs were turned. The Jeep was unattended.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man about it,� Everett carped, scuffing his foot in the dirt.

When he looked up to dump more accusations on Japheth’s ears, he was already gone. Everett saw his battered sandals shimmying up over the bumper and disappearing from view into the hatch of the old Jeep. A clamor of whispers and giggles rose from the boys.

“He’s doing it!� Lot muttered.

“That’s my big brother, he’s a big MAN!� Daniel proclaimed, beaming fit to split his face.

“SHHHHHH!� Everett hushed him, seeing the housekeeper peering over their way, frowning at the guilty looks they shot back. She trotted over to them, apron flapping.

“Shoo! Get on inside! Wash up, it’s nearly time to eat,� she insisted, swatting whatever little bums that were within reach with her wooden spoon.

Her back was turned when a second pair of sandals disappeared into the hatch. An abandoned, pitifully threadbare rag doll stared up into the overcast sky with dull button eyes.

Please, God…if you’ve ever heard my prayers before, bring me back to Lot and Daniel! I’ll be a good boykie from now on, s’true bob… Japheth projected fervent prayers into the gloomy, starless night, his grimy hands cracked and chapped, smarting as he clenched them over the rough sheets.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real bath or slept a full night indoors. He swatted futilely at the fleas and mosquitoes that came to taunt him. His argument with Everett came back to him with aching clarity as he shifted himself against the unforgiving ground:

“We can find work at the Pharaoh’s Pearl. Word is he hires anyone to help him.�

“Help him do what?�

“Anything. Everything. He has big money, and we can roll with him!�

No one “rolled� with Farouk. He rolled over everyone in his path, feeling no regard or sympathy for anyone who dared to defy him.

Japheth’s thoughts drifted back to that evening, dragging him back to the last time he’d felt any vestige of hope. His belly held none of the gnawing, crippling hunger that characterized life here in the barracks dotting the creeks and mines. His clothing was clean and intact, and Ororo lay curled in a ball beneath his skinny arm, picking at the frayed hole in his khaki shorts.

He’d smothered a cry of outrage and indignance when she’d first tumbled into the Jeep after him, bringing in a crack of light with her as she landed on top of him with no thought as to where she leapt.

“S’true bob, Ororo, what’re you doing? Get out, GET OUT!� he hissed, glaring up at her innocent, nonplussed expression.

“Ororo big girl. ‘Roro no bay-bee,� she boasted proudly, before the Jeep clattered away with a jerk, knocking them both off-balance within the hatch. Japheth instinctively clung to her beneath the dusty-smelling canvas tarp and clapped his hand over her mouth.

“We have to stay quiet,� he whispered against her soft spill of hair. She smelled like the White doctor from Scotland who spoke funny and always grinned at him when he was playing in the courtyard; the faint scent of lavender and gardenia soap drifted up from her hair and clothing. What seemed like a grand adventure only minutes before suddenly made his heart pound in his wasted chest.

Ororo was with him. They were headed into town with men they did not know, with no money. Japheth’s stomach twisted, and he began to shiver with clammy sweat that broke out over his flesh.

“Why’d you come, Ororo? You weren’t supposed to be here!� he accused, pulling away from her and huddling in the corner of the hatch. She smoothed back her hair from her face and straightened out her rumpled shift.

“You get to come,� she shot back impudently. “Ororo’s a big girl. You said so. Ororo go bye-bye with Japheth.� She poked impatiently at the cumbersome tarp. “No like it,� she whimpered, changing her tune. “Want outside!� She reached up and tried to free herself, finally standing partly to push it off. Japheth’s breath caught as they bounced over a pothole with a loud THUNK!

He caught Ororo around her waist before she could be thrown free from the hatch, almost regretting the draft of fresh air and kicked-up dust that blew inside with her attempt at an escape.

“NO!� he whispered harshly. Her eyes were round and curious at his actions; she couldn’t understand why he looked so alarmed. She merely wanted to get out. This game was boring now.

“Want mai bay-bee,� she sniffed.

“She’s not here. I’ll get you a new one,� he promised hollowly.

“Want mai bay-bee!� she insisted, and her little cheeks grew flushed as she prepared to let him have it, screwing up her face and clenching her little fists. She struggled against him; Japheth wondered if the occupants of the front of the Jeep could hear them, and he weighed his options. If he cried out, perhaps they would turn around and take them back. Or at least take Ororo back; the thought of going into town, seeing the sights and asking Farouk for a job of some sort still appealed to him. He still pondered Everett’s scheme of getting in good with the owner of the Pharaoh’s Pearl. He pictured himself striding back in to the orphanage, big, strong, dressed in fine clothes and bringing his friends a shiny new football.

He never considered he might have a charge under his care, such as it was…

“Why’d y’come, Ororo?� he muttered miserably, and he gave a rusty sigh as she huddled against him once again. Japheth patted her awkwardly, but her nearness gave him strange comfort.

He didn’t know how far they rode; he was lulled to sleep by the rumbling trek and hum of the engine, and Ororo settled against him for a nap of her own, smacking her lips and occasionally sucking her thumb in her sleep. She occasionally patted him as though looking for her dollie.

Japheth awoke with a start as the Jeep’s engine cut off, allowing the faint breeze creeping through the tarp to die away. He sat up, still crouched, and rubbed his eyes as this thoughts processed where they could be. Ororo rolled to her side in a little ball, content to continue her nap. Japheth took the opportunity to peer through the tarp at their surroundings, treating himself to a long look after he heard the doors of the Jeep slam, and two pairs of booted feet hit the packed earth and gravel. He raised the tarp only enough to peer outside.

All he could see were feet and wheels. He smelled the combined odors of greasy food and petrol, along with the scent of cleanser not unlike what the mission’s housekeeper used to clean the glass. His ears were able to pick out the sounds of the men’s voices, still unaware that they’d acquired passengers as they made their way into the small convenience store and cigarette shop.

“Need something t’wash the dust from m’mouth,� murmured the one, slapping at his clothing to rid himself of the accumulated dirt.

“Need me a woman, too!� scoffed his companion, and both of them threw back their heads and chortled, evoking cackles from the passerby leaving the shop with supplies of cigarettes and liquor. Japheth heard them making catcalls at a woman coming down the steps as she sidled away, climbing into the passenger side of a large pickup truck. Furtively he considered whether to ask her for a ride, still unsure of their circumstances if they stayed with the men who brought them this far. A woman might be more sympathetic. Japheth allowed himself a better glance, lifting the tarp another inch or two to get a closer look.

The woman’s skin was glossy and dark as carved balsa wood, and she was heavily painted with makeup, wearing a skimpy halter blouse and faded, short skirt of loose gauze. She hauled herself up gracefully into the truck’s cab with a swish of her skirt, narrowly escaping catching it in the door as she slammed it shut. Her hair was elaborately braided but covered with a cotton bandanna against the dust. She waited impatiently for a young man who was bragging about another girl, clearly indicated by his gesticulating of a wide pair of hips and his leering grin. She called out something rude; he came along, his strut leaving more catcalls in his wake as he hopped up into the truck. Japheth knew he wasn’t likely to get any help from her after all.

His options were cut short as the tarp was lifted away and shucked from them as the drivers went to load their purchases into the hatch, balancing cases of beer and boxes of cigarettes. Jaded, indignant black eyes leveled Japheth with a look that pinched his bladder in fear.

“I know’m not seein’ this,� he muttered, throwing up his free arm in resignation as Japheth attempted to huddle his way back into the corner. “We’ve got a pair of little stowaways, Davey! Urchins! From that bloody orphanage!�

“Shit!� he agreed. “Look’a this little snot! Think yer grown, boy? Takin’ a trip?� He gazed curiously at the other sleeping child balled up next to him, who was smacking her lips and moaning at the interruption of her nap. Japheth was at least grateful that Ororo wouldn’t have to hide any longer under the stifling tarp, if only to give her some fresh air and light. He knew she hated the dark. “What’ve we got here? Bring yer little girlfriend along for the fun?�

“Wan’ dollie,� Ororo complained petulantly on a low whine. Japheth crawled over to her to shush her and grabbed her protectively, bringing her fully from her stupor as she scrubbed the sleep from her face.

“Davey…look,� insisted the first man, scowling thoughtfully as he examined the girl, taking in her unique looks for the first time. Her clothing was clean but worn from repeated washings and being handed down from multiple owners.

Eyes as blue as tourmalines stared back at him in wonder.

“Want my dollie,� she insisted, heedless of the situation they were in.

“Want’cher dollie, princess?� murmured Davey. He grinned, nudging his companion knowingly. “The Big Man will know what to do with her. Think of it. Word on the street’ll spread about the newest girl at the Pearl!� he cackled. “C’mon, Gideon, let’s get back before he starts barking about where we’ve been.� Japheth’s ears pricked up at the mention of the Pearl. Before he could ask if it belonged to Farouk, Gideon snaked out a brawny, ruddy arm and attempted to tear Ororo from Japheth’s grip.

“Leggo!�

“YOU leggo, ya little snot!� Fear bloomed in his chest, only equaled by the anger that they would make plans for Ororo without asking him first. He had to protect her. He tugged on Ororo’s chubby little legs, practically hanging from them as they hoisted her from the hatch. The stench of the petrol was even more overpowering the longer they lingered. Davey chortled at the sight of Japheth clinging pitifully to the slight girl, her hair gleaming in the sun that appeared to be lower in the sky.

Pain exploded across Japheth’s jaw as Gideon struck him sharply. He was flung back into the hatch, his grip on Ororo broken as he attempted to regain his senses.

“Think yer a big man,� Davey scoffed.

“Take us…back,� Japheth moaned.

“No can do. Ya jumped into the wrong car, boykie,� Gideon shrugged helplessly. “Can’t get in th’way of hardworking men like us. A job’s a job. Gonna meet the boss.�

“Should just chuck ‘im,� Davey suggested, about to do just that as he hauled Japheth up from the hatch by his arm, hurting him. Davey smelled like stale beer and tobacco, and up close, he was missing teeth and had a mean scar beneath his eye. His flesh was pocked and mottled by long hours in the sun and brush.

“NO! WANT JAPHETH! WANT JAPHETH!� Ororo cried, finally snapping out of her trance and reaching back for him. She wriggled and kicked, squirming to go back into the hatch as her surrogate brother was badly handled and struck. Gideon and Davey swore, trying to avoid passerby peering over at the spectacle of two grown men trying to bring the odd looking children into line.

“Sod this,� Davey declared, dropping Ororo unceremoniously back into the hatch of the Jeep. He thunked down the beer case beside them, not caring that it left the children even less room than they had before. “Let’s go.�

“Right,� he agreed, flinging the tarp back over the children and using a rope to tether it to the racks and secure them haphazardly inside. Japheth finally gave voice to his terror, hoping someone would hear them. He screamed out, no longer caring if Ororo knew he was frightened or that he would be scolded when they got back to the mission.

“WE WON’T GO WITH YOU! LET US OUT! LET GO! NO!� He gripped Ororo close, his grasp almost painful as he poked her. “Yell, Ororo, really loud! We have to get out! We-“

The Jeep roared to life again as Davey gunned the ignition. Gideon gave the curious patrons of the station an indolent leer as he lit up a cigarette and puffed on it as the Jeep jounced back onto the gravel road. Japheth screamed and cried his throat hoarse until they were roughly two miles out, and he collapsed limply. His hands were chafed from trying to tear the tarp loose. Ororo’s idea to jump out from the hatch, even with the Jeep bouncing madly over the potholes and dips, no longer seemed like the worst option.

He didn’t know how long they drove. Ororo was silent the rest of the way except for the occasional whimper for her dollie, and for the doctor at the mission who let her play with the bay-bees. He heard her stomach growl and felt for the fiftieth time that day that what he did was wrong. Oh, so wrong…


~0~

“Have ye searched everywhere inside? Every room? Around the grounds?� Moira was frantic and pale, her eyes red-rimmed and restless. She plowed her fingers through her disheveled sable hair, her ponytail a hopeless wreck as her solitaire snagged itself in the strands.

“We can’t find her,� the headmistress insisted. “We’ve called the authorities. Sent out feelers in the next two villages. No one’s seen her at the barracks. No child there matches her description, and too many match Japheth’s.�

“That’s a horrid, ridiculous bluidy excuse!� Moira railed, flinging her arms wide. “HOW d’ye let this happen? Will ye tell me, HOW?!� She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes brimming and overflowing as her shoulders finally slumped. She collapsed onto the couch feeling raw and spent. My baby. My little, wee bairn…

“Children play. Children get lost in the brush. All of the children were called inside for lunch. The last time Ororo or Japheth were seen, they were in the courtyard.� The headmistress wanted to add that the only visitors they’d had were the delivery men who brought the supply of vaccinations in their Jeep. It only seated two; there was no way they could have managed to make off with two children in the tiny vehicle. “Occasionally their parents find their way to us through word of mouth. Or people who think we’ve found their children. We’ll find her. We’re doing everything we can.�

“It’s na’ enough,� Moira sniffled, clutching the handkerchief that the headmistress handed her and mopping at her eyes. “Nay,� she whimpered weakly, her voice cracking again. It would never be enough.

Moira then did something she hadn’t done in a long time, excusing herself from the headmistress’ study and escaping to her own tiny suite. Once there, she kicked the door shut after her and flung herself onto her cot. Her shoulders shook as she indulged in the last of her sobs, still twisting the handkerchief in her hands and clutching the pillow. Memories of holding Ororo on her lap for stories, those blue eyes peeking at her from around door jambs and furniture and the sight of her brilliant smile when they helped in the nursery tore at her, stabbing her heart.

It was like losing Kevin, all over again.

She mastered her emotions and sat up, relaxing her body as she leaned her back against the wall, allowing it to support her. She breathed through her diaphragm, incrementally deepening her breaths and slowing down as she exhaled, and she opened her thoughts, reaching out for that secure, safe place and her anchor through times no woman should ever have endured.

Charley Her heart thudded as she pushed herself through her usual boundaries, letting her ragged emotions swell and flow out to him, pleading with him to hear her.

His gentle mind touch found her, filling her with a moment of serenity and reassurance that would prove too short, too little and completely unattainable for weeks…months to come.

Moira? His voice flowed through her like a soothing toddy. What’s the matter? You sound troubled.

I need ye, Charles. I need yuir help. I’ve lost something dear tae me, and I kinna cope.

Anything. One word, filled with so much history and emotion and promise.

There’s a child involved. She disappeared. She’s…very special. Moira projected a flood of impressions, images, memories, feelings and affection into their rapport, filling him with all that she had gathered and treasured of the little waif with the ancient eyes, wanting to kick herself that she hadn’t made a move sooner to inform him of what she’d found. His thoughts and emotions held no rebuff, only admiration, sympathy and shared awe.

She’s very special, indeed. I’ll do what I can. Moira shivered; she felt the final touch of his thoughts as keenly as a kiss.

~0~


Japheth’s body was still sore from hauling purloined supplies into the pickup trucks, something his slight frame was ill-suited for. Farouk had no use for him, he’d said, in the main den of his saloon. Achmed hadn’t been impressed by him, either, at first glance dismissing his odd looks and poor health as not having the traits of a thief, not even as one of his urchins who begged from their marks.

He’d had to work for his supper on Farouk’s raids of the neighboring villages. Toting a gun, hiding along with the other ‘lost boys’ who were used as messenger pigeons and lookouts from soldiers, and narrowly escaping being used as worse due to his lack of physical appeal. He made himself as useful as he could out of a need for survival, even while making himself scarce.

Japheth would never forget how Ororo looked when they were dragged into the dark, clammy den of the Pearl, tripping over their own feet as Davey and Gideon approached the bar and slapped down a wad of money for their long overdue whiskey.

No one in the bar looked surprised to see two such young children in their midst. Working girls lounged in the doorway and on the tiny dais serving as a stage while one of them sang along – badly – with a torch song on the piano that was in surprisingly good shape. Her eyes were glazed with drink, and she ignored the occasional jeers from her companions hooting at her from their seats, waving currency notes and shimmying back at her efforts. Japheth covered his ears and stared at the floor. Ororo, on the other hand, watched them with wide eyes as she clung to Japheth’s hand.

Japheth leaned against the counter of the bar with Ororo still clinging to him like a little burr as they took in their surroundings. He could smell food, thankfully, and wondered when anyone would give them any. His hopes were dashed as soon as Gideon swigged down his shot of whiskey in a thirsty gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He swatted Japheth away from the counter and hauled him by the scruff of the neck with him as Davey lifted Ororo like a sack of potatoes. She beat her tiny fists against him briefly, not liking his sour smell or sweaty skin; it caught random patrons by surprise that the child appeared so fresh despite the saturated air leaching inside and battling with the swamp coolers.

They were dragged into the back, greeted by several questionable looking men in the gambling lounge. To Japheth, it looked like a dungeon. Clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke wafted out and burned his nostrils, sickening him, and Japheth was almost grateful that he hadn’t eaten.

The worst smell of all emanated from the enormous, portly man in a linen suit that strained across his massive bulk as he contemplated his hand of cards. Sweat shone on his oily skin, not helped by the talcs and expensive cologne he used to remedy his condition. He sweated out hard liquor through his pores, and if Japheth had to describe it…he looked, sounded and smelled like the Boogey Man. His bald head was crowned by a red velvet fez. His eyes were beady and dark, peering out from the fleshy folds of olive skin that dwarfed the rest of his features. He was surrounded by a ring of cackling men and several high stacks of red and blue poker chips, a plate of chicken bones picked clean, and a row of empty whiskey glasses. His smile was tidy and amused as he eyed his two newest acquisitions.

“Hello, little ones,� he greeted pleasantly enough, making Davey nudge Gideon sharply from behind him. Gideon leaned back and stomped on his foot. You didn’t tempt the Big Man to pick through your thoughts as easily as a stolen wallet by provoking him.

Ororo wriggled loose from Gideon’s grip, as he had grown tired of holding her, and she practically climbed down from him like a tree, hitting the floor with a thud. “WANT MY DOLLIE!� This was greeted by a low chorus of laughter and a shaking of heads. She was a pretty little thing, and she had spunk.

Ororo couldn’t put into words that what she really wanted was to go home, to the kindly doctor with the nice eyes who smelled pretty and let her play with the babies. She wanted to watch Japheth play Simon Says and football in the courtyard.

“You heard the girl,� Farouk crooned. He swirled his glass of gin and tonic idly, searching with his thoughts for his errant serving girl who was currently cowering in the kitchen. “You like dollies, princess?� She nodded, again stunning Japheth that she wasn’t afraid. She crossed her arms impatiently, staring him down, to the delight and awe of Farouk’s peers. He enjoyed her refusal to look away as he waited for his servant to answer his summons. The grubby teenager was wiping her hands on her soiled apron and edging her way through the men, swatting away the hands that groped her casually as though she were community property. The assumption wasn’t far off the mark.

“Here,� Farouk drawled, reaching into his pocket for a huge silver money clip. He peeled off a few notes and tucked them into her hand. She inwardly recoiled from his clammy flesh and loathsome touch, giving thanks that he’d employed her older brother as one of his gunrunners, and given her the job in the kitchens as a favor to him. He didn’t find her attractive enough to molest her or bring her to his private suites.

She smothered a gasp of dismay, however, at the cherubic, unique beauty of the little girl occupying everyone’s attention. She tried her best to keep her feelings from her face.

“Go next door, to Ainet’s boutique. Buy her the prettiest dollie they have. Bring it here,� Farouk ordered briskly. She took the money and stared at it curiously before taking her leave. Japheth was stunned.

The serving girl returned out of breath roughly ten minutes later, clutching a carefully wrapped box. She thunked it down carelessly when she arrived, still fighting off the groping hands and swearing at them in rough Egyptian. Farouk’s syrupy voice made her pause in her tracks.

“Clear these away,� he demanded, nodding to the empty glassware and plates. She sighed heavily before retrieving a huge tub on the sideboard of the sinks, and she loaded it with the dirty dishes before taking her leave. She fought the urge to run back to the kitchen to wash herself of the fetid essence and grime of the den and its owner.

“Take it,� Farouk offered, nodding to the box.

“’Roro, don’t!� Japheth pleaded. That earned him a clout upside the head from Gideon and a stern injunction to shut up.

Ororo peered back at Japheth and nearly ran to him, but she was torn, feeling something pull her back toward the table. Farouk smiled that lazy smile and scratched his chin.

“Go ahead. It’s for you.� She approached the table on steady feet, still only clad in the worn sandals and covered with dirt. The paper felt crisp beneath her fingers and crackled as she tore it from the box. It was printed with purple flowers and tied with a lopsided pink bow.

“Ooooooooh. Pwetty,� she breathed, taking in the sight of the porcelain doll attired in a frilly red dress with frothy white ruffles. She tilted the box, and the dollie’s eyes shut as though she were sleeping, then opened again when she tipped it back up. She tore at the lid of the battered box, freeing her prize from the limp cardboard and cellophane. She pawed through it, finding only a tiny stand for the doll to be propped on. She was disappointed at the lack of a comb for her shining curls of polyester hair.

Farouk sat fascinated at the child’s reactions and her looks. She was self-possessed and confident, something he’d never witnessed from the local children, even those under Achmed’s tutelage once they’d learned the ropes.

She would earn him a killing. He couldn’t let this prize escape.


~0~

The locals learned quickly not to cross the stocky, foul-mouthed foreigner who occasionally frequented the Pearl. He came and went as he pleased, and nothing pleased him more than being left alone with his thoughts once the job was done.

Logan was done being a soldier.

He stalked up the rickety wooden steps. This quarter of town always reminded him of the old West, with its porches and old-fashioned swinging doors. Vendor stalls defiantly occupied the streets, competing with the taverns and salons on the main block, and dusty pick-up trucks honked their way through the evening traffic as the denizens made their way home to meager dinners. Logan slid his Stetson from his sweat-soaked hair and ran his fingers through it roughly, giving his scalp a good, hearty scratch before replacing it. This bar always made him itch. Didn’t stop them from having the best beer in town.

The change of clothes still held the scent of smoke from the ruined barracks after Creed fired the pipe bombs and grenades in their wake. Being a “cleaner� was a dirty job. Logan acknowledged that he was good at it, and the money was nothing to sneeze at, if he didn’t mind losing a little sleep at night. He consoled himself that it was fine, as long as he didn’t start enjoying it. Like Creed.

They’d recovered twelve crates of guns and a few kilos of heroin from the barracks after tracking down a local “snitch� who’d diverted the promised shipment after pocketing a cool wad of cash in small bills. Logan kept his kills clean and necessary, talking his way inside in the local dialect and smiling as pretty as you please. He felt Creed champing at the bit behind him, itching to do some damage. Kill first, ask questions later, and torch any trail of blood you left behind before anyone could use it to follow you to your hidey hole. They’d found their worm huddled among three working girls in one of Farouk’s other gambling hells on the outskirts of the city and walked inside without knocking. One look from Creed sent the girls scurrying out and their boy scrambling for excuses that landed on deaf ears.

“Someone’s been a bad, bad boy,� Logan drawled. He leaned his head over to one side and let his neck joints crack, wrinkling his nose slightly at the odors of stale liquor and cheap perfume. The tang of their mark’s fear reached him and teased his nostrils in the closeness of the surprisingly plush room. Farouk sank more money into this joint than the last few they’d wet their lips at, Logan mused.

“Patch…I was just…a man’s gotta look out for himself.�

“Yeah, yeah.� Creed was shaking his burly, shaggy blond head in wonder. “Get it over with already, runt.�

“Don’t rush me,� he growled back on a sigh. He watched him back up in his chair, his eyes flitting around the room for the nearest possible route of escape. He kicked himself, and Logan smothered a laugh; he’d chosen the one room with a tiny window near the ceiling to give himself and his company the privacy he wanted, to the extent that he could have any.

He’d practically dug his own grave.

“C’mon, man, let me buy you guys a drink! Catch up on what’s been goin’ on,� he whined, making a show of calling down to the front desk, his hand shaking as he reached for the receiver. “Jimmy! Send up a bottle of that tequila you were telling me about! C’mon, man, we’re thirsty up here…what?� The light left his eyes as it dawned on him that he was alone. He punched the cradle button in disbelief, sweat beading on his brow. The sounds of commotion downstairs had died away, and blood rushed in his ears. He could hear his own pulse, feeling it trying to claw its way out of his neck, and cold prickles of terror broke out over his flesh.

Logan smiled. It didn’t reach his black eyes.

“It ain’t even ‘bout the money. S’bout honor,� Logan rumbled, his steady, broad steps bringing him to the table. He propped his boot against the empty chair, still warm from the one girl sitting there earlier, flashing her breasts until she heard the creak of the chamber door. “Ya got ahead of yerself, didn’tcha?�

“He’s gonna piss his pants,� Creed declared gleefully.

Logan tsked. “Shame. Nice room,� he mused. SNIIIIKKKKKTT…

Prayers that their boy had forgotten hissed out from his lips almost silently. Logan wanted to feel sorry for him but couldn’t.

“Ya read the Bible much, bub? New Testament?�

“Why the fuck do ya always do this shit, man?� Creed snarled. “Ya don’t even believe in that shit yerself!�

“Man’s gotta find God sometime…didn’t I tell ya not ta rush me?� Logan turned back, bold enough to take his eyes off his prey when he clearly had nowhere to go. He pointed one claw like a finger at Creed. “I’m just gettin’ ta the good part. New Testament,� Logan intoned, turning back to the worm, still muttering Hail Maries and goodness only knew what else under his breath. His eyes gleamed with desperate, hopeless tears and he felt his bowels twist into a pretzel knot. “Know who Caesar was? Guy was a lot like Farouk. Shit, I know the Big Guy would be laughin’ his ass off if I said that out loud ta him!� Creed snickered for emphasis, still shaking his head. “Roman guy. Big-time emperor. Ah, that don’t matter. What matters is what it says in that book of the Good Book, ‘bout not robbin’ folks of what ain’t yers. Payin’ folks what they’re due. Bein’ accountable ta authority, which in this case is Farouk. *Render unto Caesar, that which is Caesar’s,� he shrugged. “Fits, don’t it? Ya messed up,� Logan pronounced without further hesitation.

“Finally,� Creed huffed, scratching his ear with one dark claw, causing their mark to stare at the gesture. Creed supplemented the image of a yawning lion as he sucked his fanglike teeth in impatience before yawning. It was a guttural, ugly sound, and their mark felt himself teetering over the precipice, waiting to plummet to the rocky crags below. Creed’s teeth…

“Money’s in the safe. Downstairs, behind the desk,� he offered lamely.

“Preciate it,� Logan drawled, before he flipped the table over and flung it across the room as though the thick pine weighed nothing. Before he could blink, their mark’s head was severed neatly from him neck in one swift slice of Logan’s foreclaw. His expression still looked surprised as his body sagged to the floor from the chair.

“Pussy,� Creed muttered. “Ya take the fun out of it, runt.�

“Ain’t s’posed ta be fun, prick.�

“Pansy.�

“Dumb ass.� He ushered him out, heedless of his towering bulk and the menacing leer on his face. “Yer a freak, Vic.�

“Let’s grab the cash, an’ grab ya a stiff drink ta chase that bug outta yer ass,� Creed suggested. “Damn, this place stinks.� Logan and Creed took their time, knowing it was pointless to cover their steps. They’d already cleared the front lobby just by walking in through the front door. Two gunmen lay bleeding and staring up at the ceiling, one still twitching next to his liver. That had been Creed’s handiwork. As Logan so ably put it, he was a freak.

Say what you wanted about Logan’s MO. Taking their mark’s head off guaranteed he wouldn’t suffer feeling his heart ceasing to beat. He didn’t need the light dying from another pair of eyes staring into his face, pleading with him for mercy to chase him into sleep. Vic dragged their mark’s body down the hall by the ankles like a kid pulling a Radio Flyer wagon behind him and the head neatly tucked into a burlap sack. Logan merely waited outside by the truck, swigging tepid water from their shared canteen and dashing some over his hair to cool off. He felt a burning pain in his shoulder, then the excruciating *pop* of the shell lodged in his soft tissue burrowing its way back out as the flesh knitted itself back together. He barely noticed that the lefthanded shooter clipped him coming in. He seldom did anymore.

Vic heaped the bodies in the clearing about a half a mile away, drenched in unrelenting sunlight that beat down onto his ruddy skin and wheat blond hair. Anyone who didn’t know him, seeing him in repose like, wiping sweat from his brow, would have taken him for Zeus stepping down from Olympus until they noticed the blood stains turning his olive tank top into a gruesome parody of a Jackson Pollack painting. Logan helped him with the large, oblong package wrapped in dark brown butcher’s paper and string, cutting it open with his claws once he approached Vic.

“Bout time.�

“Nag, nag, nag,� Logan jeered mirthlessly, scowling as they laid the fillets of fresh meat gleaned from a recent kill over the bodies. Vic left a trail of them leading out toward the savanna at random intervals, creeping almost too close to a grazing pack of lions.

“Here, kitty, kitty!� Creed whistled sharply through his teeth. The large male cat flicked its tail back and forth, recognizing Vic as a fellow predator and yawning menacingly.

“Freak.� Logan headed back to the truck and hopped in on the driver’s side. When Vic returned and yanked open his side to get in, Logan made a show of fanning the air and wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Ya ain’t riding up front with me, bub, ya stink ta high heaven!�

“Fuck off!� The money rested in the case between them as they drove through the brush.

That brought Logan here. Creed was already upstairs, availing himself of the club’s perks. He hadn’t even changed his shirt.

Logan sidled up to the bar and ordered a beer, slapping off the fluted cap and drinking it straight from the bottle. His throat worked thirstily, the bulging cords of muscle pulsing with each swallow as he drained the bottle and thunked it back onto the counter. The serving girl watched him with wary eyes, her face jaded but belligerent. He waved notes of the local currency at her briefly, waiting patiently to be served again. She dutifully retrieved the empty bottle and wiped the moist ring staining the counter with her rag that had seen better days.

Logan took a moment to let the sounds and scents of the Pearl “settle� around him before he picked through them, one by one. His server had made near-futile efforts with deodorant and talc, probably that morning, to stave off the stench and humidity of the saloon. He smelled the brush, both from himself and a gaggle of workmen filing inside from the street. Unfiltered cigarettes. Cheap vermouth. Chicken wings with Tabasco and stale beer nuts abandoned on one of the small tables by the dais, fifteen feet away. Logan was thankful that his day’s labors robbed him of an appetite.

His hackles rose as he caught the scent of young flesh. A child. Female. Too young for a monthly cycle or even acne. His feet dragged him from his stool, deaf to his server’s disgusted announcement that he was forgetting his beer. She left it still capped on the counter and went about her business, until she saw him heading into the gambling den.

Common sense won out over curiosity, and she strode back into the kitchen, out of sight.

Logan followed the faint scent like a beacon. He knew from the jump that Farouk held no qualms about exploiting the needy families who would literally sell their own children if it would put food on the table. He’d seen enough of it from behind enemy lines. ‘Tweens seated outside of brothels, swinging on verandas and eating melting popsicles while their brothers, uncles or fathers shilled from the street, luring tourists and soldiers inside.

Outbursts of drunken laughter were cut short as though someone extinguished all sound from the room. The faded red streamers of tape fluttered in the vents of the swamp cooler, stirring up the motes of dust in the salon and making them dance in the fading light.

“Pull up a chair, stranger,� Farouk crooned, beaming at his favorite contract gun and raising his glass in salute. The old bloat still hadn’t learned the value of self-control or more frequent baths. Logan’s nostrils burned, nearly making his eyes water, but he mastered it. His stance was wide, his back stiff as a poker as he measured him up from the doorframe.

Logan didn’t reply; Farouk expected it of him by now. His fathomless, nearly feral black eyes swept the chamber, taking in the occupants one by one, assessing their weaknesses and vices of choice and storing it away for future knowledge. Farouk was flanked by two of his toys, both attired in skimpy ruffles and hoop earrings as big as Logan’s fist, lips glossed blood-red.

The third one sat perched nearby, close to the window, diligently braiding the hair of a child seated on her lap, amusingly occupied with a similar task of her own. The child was painstakingly combing the curls of a careworn porcelain doll, growing frustrated by a stubborn snarl. Logan recoiled indignantly at the sight of the child’s attire, garbed in garish clothing that mimicked Farouk’s whores. The little girl was humming tunelessly to herself, absorbed in her task and behaving surprisingly well as her own locks were tugged mercilessly tight into impeccable cornrows.

“Doesn’t she just brighten up this drab room like a little beam of sunshine?� Farouk observed. Ororo peered up at the sound of his voice before slowly swinging her gaze toward the haggard stranger in their midst.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

“Creed’s upstairs,� Logan explained. “I’m done.�

“Dinner’s on the house,� Farouk offered.

“Ain’t hungry.�

“Speak with Gideon on your way out, then.� Farouk shrugged unaffectedly.

Logan’s feet remained planted where they were. Farouk continued to smile, his beady eyes unreadable to anyone else in the room. Logan flexed his left shoulder, letting the joint pop thoughtfully as he remembered back to his afternoon.

Here, kitty, kitty…predators and prey. Logan felt himself flicking a phantom tail.

He wanted nothing more than to grab the kid and run, but this wasn’t his moment. He needed a plan.

And he needed a moment to kick his own ass for giving a damn.

“Win big, Boss.�

“I always do.�

Logan crept back into the kitchen, ignoring the sour look from his serving girl from the bar as he headed through the dark slab door beyond the galley. He gave two short raps. Gideon’s swarthy, pocked face peered out through the crack, and he was allowed entry without preamble or greeting.

Once ensconced inside, Gideon made a show of opening the safe, yanking it open with a sharp click. He extracted a gleaming leather case and laid it on the desk, snapping it open before he pulled the ledger from the drawer. His scrawl was surprisingly neat for a man who habitually toted a gun; Logan’s name was entered on the line as “Patch�, with “pif� noted under the “Amount� column, for “paid in full� for services rendered. He laid out the stacks of bills neatly on the desk and shoved them toward Logan without meeting his eyes.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,� he scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah,� Logan murmured, giving his stock answer to the familiar lecture. Logan knew that Gideon was a sadistic bastard, and that he put on the Mother Hen act for kicks. He swept out of the room with his take stowed in his ditty bag strapped around his waist and obscured by his baggy seersucker shirt. He tipped his hat at the serving girl on his way out. She merely rolled her eyes before resuming her duties, drying the stack of steaming dishes in the sink.

Logan was pleased to find his beer still untouched on the counter. He drained it much like he had the first, knowing the attempt to wash the taste of the Pearl from his mouth was hopeless, no matter how diligent.

He shook off the faint impression that he was being watched on his way out.

Charles Xavier nursed the glass of single malt whiskey thoughtfully and watched the stocky man with haphazard hair and clothing lope outside with almost lupine grace. Unlike the other patrons of the Pearl, his thoughts were cloaked, muddled in psychic static. Charles’ impressions were fleeting, but he caught the empathic signature of his emotions…pain. Regret. Anger.

Strength.

Leaving a generous tip on the table, Charles followed the signature like a beacon.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.� -- Carl Gustav Jung



The same Jeep had been following him for twenty minutes.

Logan found himself weaving through the traffic of the crowded marketplace with the aftertaste of his last beer still lingering in his mouth and a lit cigar clenched between his fingers, forcing him to drive one-handed. The sun had gone down, and the humidity made his shirt, fresh only an hour ago, stick to the new layer of sweat and grime on his skin. He was at the mercy of the mosquitoes feasting on his flesh, even though the bites would heal over the course of the night, but they still made him itch like hell in the meantime.

The Jeep always seemed to stay three cars behind him. No matter how often he shifted or who cut him off, that car edged its way into his rearview every time he looked. Logan sighed in frustration.

One more ass to kick before he went to bed. Not that he was likely to get any sleep, anyway, he mused.

What surprised him was that the Jeep didn’t follow him that aggressively, and there only appeared to be one person occupying it. His senses had never failed him before, so he didn’t have a damned clue why his hackles weren’t up with this guy playing tag with him. Logan wasn’t gonna be It.

He waited until he reached the same gravel road he’d followed earlier to the Pearl, whipping past the same trees, and recognizing the street urchins hustling who’d caught his eye before, begging and still shilling the local sins the district had to offer. An elderly tourist was about to be relieved of his wallet, Logan observed wryly, as he got out of his car with the intent to offer them a tidbit. The next few minutes ticked on with the faint, static-ridden strains of the Temptations declaring that “Papa Was a Rolling Stone� creating background noise as he planned his next move. Anyone who knew him knew enough not to trail him. That was his job.

The rickety pickup truck with more rust than paint barreled off, taking the left side of the fork in the road in Logan’s wake. The tomato red Ford diverged after another two miles, driving over rough brush to a tiny shanty with bug-riddled lights glowing faintly from a dilapidated porch. “You an’ me, bub,� Logan grumbled under his breath, fixing the Jeep with a gaze that was palpable; he could sense his prey closing in him, even though his pursuer thought he was the hunter in his chase. Logan saw his opportunity half a mile ahead in a narrow path that ran off the road into the thicket of swaying acacia trees, so crowded together that the dense blanket of branches locked out the moonlight overhead. He let the truck roll to a stop and cut the ignition, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom once the headlights were extinguished.

All that was left was to wait. From his vantage point among the trees, he saw the gleam of the Jeep’s high beams gradually broaden as they swept over the gravel, and heard someone closing the door gently, almost as though he anticipated resistance if he didn’t tread carefully. Slowly, Logan extended his claws, stifling a grunt as they broke through his skin. The familiar thrill of the hunt sang in his veins. Soft, cautious footsteps were briefly interrupted by the click of a flashlight. A humid breeze swept his scent up to Logan from his vantage point by the crotch of a half-rotted cypress; he instantly catalogued different physical traits about the interloper. Young, perhaps early thirties. Tall and lean, judging by the footsteps. Healthy. Perspiring, more from the humidity than a lack of hygiene. A hint of talc that proved useless.

Logan felt guilty, because he was gonna enjoy this too much.

“Hello? Sir? I’d like to speak with you, if I may,� a cultured voice beckoned. His accent was American, educated, and held a faint lilt of someone who was comfortable with speaking other languages. He was close enough for Logan to practically smell his breath, which told him he was close enough to…

He sprang down from the branches nimbly as a panther and knocked the stranger off his feet and twisted his fist in the lapels of his khaki linen shirt. The flashlight tumbled from his grip and rolled away and Logan used it to his advantage, spinning his prey around quicker than he could blink before shoving him back against the tree’s trunk. He heard a choked rush of air explode from his chest, but he merely grunted with the impact, impressing Logan for a moment. Normally he’d have made a guy like this piss his pants by now.

“I ain’t much fer talkin’, bub,� he replied, and Charles caught the gleam of his eyes, even though the woods around them admitted nearly no light. They were predator’s eyes, gleaming black as coal and just as hard. Jagged canines flashed as he leered at Charles and stared him down. “Guy like me don’t much like a tagalong on my way back ta my digs.� Logan smelled no fear; all he heard was the faint catch in his breathing as he fought to force air through his windpipe beneath Logan’s unrelenting grip.

“I…suppose not,� he agreed. His hands were wrapped reflexively around Logan’s wrist, but he didn’t struggle. His cap had been knocked free from his head, revealing a bald head and cleanly shaven face, confirming Logan’s suspicions: He was young and took good care of himself. Eyes that appeared to be light in color measured him steadily, and a hint of a smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “I’d…like to introduce myself…if I could,� he huffed.

SNAKT. Charles nearly bit his tongue as Logan released him, letting him stumble back to the ground with a thud. Charles coughed, his voice hoarse and guttural as Logan looked on, gently nursing the ragged, bleeding holes over his knuckles.

“Yer lucky I just got paid, bub, an’ that I had myself a drink. Ya wouldn’t like me much when I ain’t in this good of a mood.�

“No, no. You’re a rather charming fellow.� The strong, silent type, Charles mused sardonically. “I wanted to offer you a proposition. I need your help on a matter of great urgency.� He retrieved his hat and dusted it off futilely, straightening the stiff felt brim before replacing it on his head. “My name is Charles. Charles Xavier.�

“What’s a guy like you need all the way here in the bush that’s so freakin’ urgent?�

“One of my colleagues informed me of a child that went missing from the orphanage where she’s currently on sabbatical.� Logan grunted and scratched his nape thoughtfully.

“Colleague, huh? Lots of kids go missing ‘round here. Ain’t nothin’ new. Good luck,� he grumbled. “Better yet, head back into town. Tons of kids right out in the open. Any of ‘em might have seen her. Keep a close grip on yer wallet,� he advised him.

“I know where she is. I need you to help me get her out.�

“Are ya flamin’ kiddin’ me? Get her out? Do ya know how many kids are lucky ta even have a place ta get out of, pal? If the kid’s got a roof over her little head, she ain’t so bad off.�

“Not when that roof belongs to the Devil himself. You saw her there,� Charles informed him, and Logan’s hackles stood up.

“Ya think yer slick, spyin’ on me? Don’t make me change my mind about filletin’ ya right now!� SNIKT.

“You’re a unique man,� Charles murmured. “Of all the psyches inside the Pearl, yours was the only one that knew guilt.�

“Fuck… are ya kiddin’ me? What’s this ‘psyche’ crap?�

Is this a good enough explanation for you? Logan’s eyes widened, and he sucked in an incredulous breath as he prepared to pounce.

“Yer in my head,� he growled.

Merely visiting, Charles informed him. His lips smiled without malice, but Logan never trusted anyone who smiled. Ever. Urchins. Prostitutes. Beggars. Thieves. Farouk. They all smiled at one time or another.

“Visit’s over!�

“You’ve seen her,� Charles continued quietly. “She’s very special, and my colleague is worried sick.�

“Cry me a river.�

“No. I’ll draw you a picture.� The hair on Logan’s neck stood on end again as Charles concentrated, closing his eyes and expelling a quiet breath from his diaphragm; Logan felt a strange energy wafting from him and touching something deep within him that he couldn’t name.

The wavering, glowing image of the girl from the gambling den appeared, haunting him as the phantom image stared him in the eye.

“She’s a unique girl,� Charles pointed out. “Special. Gifted.�

“Gifted? Can she pick a pocket yet? Make a speedy getaway?� Logan’s tone was snide as he fought that nagging voices in his head into submission.

“Her lot in life will be much worse if we allow her lot to be thrown in with Farouk’s.� Logan’s façade began to waver slightly as he remembered back to the serving girls and Farouk’s other “toys� in the saloon. Gaudy jewelry. Lips glossed blood red. Dead eyes…

The kid was pure. Despite himself, Logan reached out to touch the illusion shimmering before him; he felt his senses betrayed him when he couldn’t feel the child’s soft cheek. Something about her captivated him. Something no one he’d ever met during his miserable life possessed.

Light.

“Fuck,� he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. He couldn’t walk away. Not if he wanted to live with himself…

“Still feel like filleting me?� Charles’ tone was sardonic but expectant, and he didn’t offer Logan another smile. Instead he retrieved his flashlight from the brush. Logan caught the shift in his breathing and his scent; he looked drained from the psychic contact with him, and shaken by the glimpse that he had of broken memories, purposely suppressed.

“Only if ya try ta poke around in my head again, Chuckles.� Charles waited for Logan to lead the way out of the brush, keeping his flashlight trained on his retreating feet. Only when Logan reached his truck and opened the door did Charles treat himself to a glance at Logan’s face. He appeared young, Charles mused, until you looked into his eyes. Those still gleamed obsidian in the scant light that clicked on when he opened the door with a creak and climbed inside.

“Logan?� Charles inquired softly. He met his gaze steadily and didn’t shrink away from the sudden glare as his tentative ally bristled, once again resembling a cornered animal.

“Don’t get too comfy callin’ me that,� he growled. “Wolverine.�

“All right,� he agreed. “You work for Farouk?�

“I do jobs fer Farouk. There’s a difference.�

“We both know that’s not true, my friend.�

“Ya ain’t that much more of a ‘friend’ than that big bloat,� Logan pointed out wryly. Charles shrugged.

“Yet you feel no loyalty toward him? None that would make this a conflict of interest?�

“Render unto Caesar,� Logan grumbled. “Ain’t like me ta mess around in his affairs or ta bite the hand that’s feedin’ me. Don’t mean I hafta swallow everything he doles out, though. I’m my own man, not his. Consider me ‘on loan.’�

“Fine then, Wolverine.� Logan didn’t ask if there was money involved.

It would have made him feel soiled, more than before.

“You have special qualities that I need.�

“My charmin’ wit and personality? Or just these?� He extended his claws again, but Charles never wavered.

“Your mind. Your thoughts are walled up tighter than Fort Knox.� More of that quiet, sharp wit, which somehow managed to make Logan feel unsettled. “Farouk is a strong telepath, perhaps even stronger than I am. I intend to put that to the test tonight. I know you’re formidable in your chosen field. Not much can hurt you.�

“Don’t get me wrong, bub. Plenty can hurt me, but ain’t much that can kill me. I keep comin’ back.�

“Coming back to a life filled with killing?�

“Comin’ back from the dead.� He nodded to Charles’ Jeep. “We just gonna stand here all damned day?� Charles held up his hands in surrender and started back toward his vehicle. “Hey,� Logan called out.

“Yes, Wolverine?�

“Ya ever seen combat, Chuckles? Have ya ever killed?�

“Yes.� He climbed in and inserted his keys into the ignition. “And yes. But never willingly. I’m a man of peace, but sometimes there are some battles that must be fought. Protect and serve, Wolverine.� His engine thrummed to life, and he smoothly backed away, steering his Jeep back toward the village. Logan allowed himself to feel an inkling of respect as he followed him down the road.


~0~


Moira lay awake in the dark, twisting her solitaire around her finger until her skin felt chafed. It had been too long since she’d heard from Charles.

Her sleep had been fleeting and filled with nightmares; she’d rummaged in her carryall for her anxiety pills and cut one in half before swallowing the chalky tablet, gulping water thirstily and flinging herself back against the pillows. Visions of Joe and Kevin visited her through the night, the former’s face black with fury; the latter’s twisted in yearning and anguish, crying out to her the question that ripped out her heart.

Why?

There hadn’t been an ounce of goodness in Joe; Moira had known that the moment their honeymoon was over, and she’d cursed herself for a fool as she’d packed away and hidden old mementos, lest she suffer more strikes and angry words. Cherished items were tucked away into an old trunk, buried beneath piles of old clothes that were all she had left of her mum. He’d let her keep those things, he’d informed her smugly, as though he’d discovered fire and offered her a lit match.

She felt the sedatives working their way through her system, and the ceiling spun slowly, accompanied by her arms and legs feeling like logs.

Charles had seen everything that she was and embraced her fully. Letting him go nearly tore her apart. She wasn’t just the heiress of Kinross Keep. She wasn’t a mere, bonny lass waiting for a husband and a picket fence. Nor was she the brash science major strolling across the lawns at Oxford in her bare feet, her sandals dangling from her fingertips. She was Moira Kinross, a woman with a raucous, infectious laugh and green eyes who knew her drinking songs as well as knew the teachings of Freud. She was cherished. She could do anything.

Except now she was alone, and she didn’t have a clue of how to fix this.

“Charley will fix this,� she murmured into the dark, answering her own question before she drifted back to sleep.



~0~


Farouk was already waiting for them. Logan was no fool. The working girls looked puzzled to see him back so soon, hope shining on their faces beneath the makeup, knowing he’d been paid that day. The Wolverine wasn’t a frequent customer. Ainet could count on hand the number of times he’d “rented� companionship for the night and still have fingers left.

Logan took up his stool at the bar again, feeling the lingering glances of the patrons at his back. Farouk’s watchdogs were everywhere, their firearms badly concealed beneath their shirts. He ordered a beer, nodding to the serving girl with a faint smile that didn’t convince her that he meant no trouble.

The beer barely quenched his thirst; he finished it in a few gulps and wiped his mouth, setting his bottle on the cocktail napkin before taking up his place in the seats surrounding the stage. A torch singer was belting out an old song by Nina Simone in a halfway decent voice. He ignored the glares of the busboy has he strode past, clearing glasses while he tossed his booted feet up into the table and leaned back in his chair to watch the show. Gotta love Nina, he mused.

He had a perfect vantage point to watch Charles out of the corner of his eye as he strolled into the gambling den.

The games had begun.


~0~


Vic leaned back in the claw footed tub with a husky sigh as one of Ainet’s girls poured steaming water over his chest, gently scrubbing it with a coarse sea sponge; the dark blond mat of hair glistened sable brown while wet, and the water in the tub held ashy red streaks from the blood clinging to him like a bad stench.

He enjoyed toying with them. For the moment, Vic was in the mood to play nice. A wink. A little flirting. Smile a little and crook his finger to come a little closer…none of these girls had been chased by a man as long as they’d drawn breath, so Vic enjoyed the hunt.

And if he was in that kind of mood, the kill. He’d gutted the last frail who he’d caught rummaging through his pockets while he feigned sleep. Farouk, fucker that he was, barely batted an eye lash. He’d merely replaced the upstairs carpet.

The coy one in the yellow ruffled blouse that was practically falling off of her shoulders approached him and playfully tapped his shoulder with the frosty beer bottle, already uncapped. His smile was leonine. He’d play her game for a while. He could practically taste her.

The faint breeze outside shifted, blowing a breath of humid yet fresh air through the flimsy lace curtains and kissing his damp skin. The scent it brought with it tickled his nostrils and made his hackles go up before he’d even taken his first sip.

The runt was back. The tang of his sweat, blood, and the odors from his truck were undeniable. Wasn’t like him to be caught twice in the same place. The old man was getting soft, Victor scoffed to himself.

It could wait til he’d finished getting cleaned up. He’d be bright, pretty and shining when he saw his reluctant partner again, and when Farouk needed him. Like Logan, he, too, found it unnerving when the bloat beckoned to him, whispering directly into his head when he had a “special assignment� that needed stealth and muscle. Mostly muscle.

He put his misgivings aside, deciding he had no use for them. Then he finished his beer.


~0~


“Would you like me to deal you in?�

“I enjoy a good game,� Charles admitted. He paused to hang his cap on the coat rack by the door as he nodded to one of Farouk’s bodyguards at the door. The man could tell Charles had no guns on him, and he didn’t bother to search for any. Farouk beckoned to one of his companions to move over and make room, and Charles helped himself to a chair, grateful that it had remained empty for some time; the cracked leather felt cool and untouched by Farouk’s cohorts.

Farouk gazed into Charles’ blue eyes with interest and amusement. “I was unsure during our last meeting of whether the Pearl had anything to offer for one with such discriminating tastes.�

“I assure you; I still don’t want what you have to offer. I came merely to try my hand and my luck. This is a gentleman’s game. We are gentlemen?� One arched brow quirked, and Farouk’s smile was serpentine. Farouk’s neighbor on this right cut the deck and neatly shuffled the cards with a loud flap.

“Then allow me to extend my hospitality! How rude of me to forget myself,� he exclaimed. “Send Gideon in here,� he barked to his bodyguard, who looked reluctant to leave his perch, until Farouk hissed, “now.�

Within minutes, Gideon strode inside, looking harried and annoyed at being called away from his bookkeeping.

“Our guest will be treated to a complimentary stake in tonight’s game,� he explained. “Mark him down for a thousand, and bring them out.� Gideon looked baffled, staring at the baldheaded foreigner and wondering if he knew what he was getting himself into. He obeyed, however, and brought back a rack of gambling chips, setting them by Charles’ elbow. Farouk tipped his head in Charles’ direction, smiling benignly; he left no doubt in his guest’s mind that he fully intended to win back his offerings and take him to the cleaners.

And take him out of the equation.

He ante’d up with a white chip. His companions eagerly saw him and pitched in their offerings. Charles kept his eyes on Farouk, keeping his cards face down in front of him until he heard the murmurs of the other players as they examined their hands. Each of them had nearly unreadable poker faces, but their body language spoke volumes. None of them truly expected to win. No matter how big the take, the highest stake was their souls. Farouk would drain them dry, one way or another as the cost for their cheek at the gaming table. Charles offered his contribution to the pot with a careless flick.

The scruffy man to his immediate left shed two cards from his hand and refreshed it; Charles heard his low grunt of acceptance. The man to his right held steady. The dealer traded three cards and raised another two chips. No one wavered; folding wasn’t an option. Farouk casually sipped his whiskey to fortify himself. His companion on his left jutted his chin thoughtfully and scratched the troublesome stubble, completing his impromptu grooming gesture by wiping his hand on his sweat-soaked shirt. Charles knew this one had the weakest hand. He gamely added his bet to the pot. His host’s sausage-like fingers flicked two chips as well, sending them skittering to join the rest. Beady eyes dared him to put up his hand.

Their dealer relieved him of that need, proudly revealing a straight. Charles’ neighbor held two pair, grimacing before flinging his hand toward the deck. Four of a kind, all aces. Another straight, high card the ace of clubs. No bluffs until Farouk and Charles measured each other across the table.

“Be my guest,� Farouk offered.

“I thought I already was,� he quipped. Farouk smiled. The serving girl came by and offered to refresh their drinks, but she was cavalierly dismissed, much to her relief.


~0~


Logan, in the meantime, was having a ball. A simple boast that he could drink any man in the saloon under the table was yielding interesting results. The Pearl offered the best vodka in the district, and Logan offered Charles an easy distraction. Make a lot of noise, even if it was out of character when he was working. Farouk’s girls were out in force in the main den, hooting and cheering on his competitors to put the grumpy foreigner in his place, despite hoping he’d spend some of his winnings upstairs. Not all of them were there, he noticed, letting his eyes sweep the room. Someone was watching the girl. Upstairs, he wagered. He’d find her upstairs.

He felt his healing factor recuperating from the abuse. He felt fresh as a daisy, to the extent that he could within present company. He slapped his glass on the bar and nodded to Gideon, who’d cast common sense to the dogs, abandoning his post by the vaults. Gideon nodded for his own glass to be refilled and saluted Logan before they downed their drinks almost in sync. His eyes were rapidly growing bloodshot, and Logan knew it wouldn’t be long before he was the last man standing. Which wasn’t hard. These weren’t men. They were scum.

It took a shorter time than he’d figured. Farouk’s hired guns were soon slumped and dozing in the previously abandoned tables surrounding the tiny stage. The torch singer had long departed for the night when no one was listening over the din and clamor of the contest. Logan silently sighed with relief; at least one less person stood in the line of fire now. Farouk’s bodyguard had scurried to the back to empty his gut and worship the porcelain gods. Pansy.

He let the girls think he was falling for the okey-doke as he staggered upstairs, bellowing with laughter they’d never heard explode from his lips, two of them hanging from his arms. The last few patrons nudged each other as they watched his retreating back, throwing their tips on the table. He didn’t know how Charles faring, but he had the strange sense of the calm before a storm. The bloat’s presence wasn’t as strong upstairs; he didn’t feel the steely tang of his essence as keenly. He’d found new prey. If he’d been a religious man, Logan would have sent up a prayer for him.

The child’s scent was cold downstairs; his prize was well protected, making Logan wonder if he was holding her aside for some purpose that didn’t bear thinking about. He gritted his teeth, grimacing as he caught Creed’s stench drifting down the hall. The girls offered him the Red Suite; the door was slightly stuck as though someone had shut it back when the peeling paint was still fresh. Humidity made it worse, but Logan jarred it open with a savage rattle of the doorknob, making his hostesses giggle behind him. Their perfume didn’t mask the sour scent of the room or the pomade they’d used in their hair. They offered to make him comfortable. He settled for leaning back in the brocade upholstered chair while they closed the door. He still felt unsettled.

“Do you have someone special, handsome?� The first one wore red lace, a camisole in lieu of a decent shirt. She carelessly allowed the strap to slip from her shoulder as she lit a stem of incense. Sandalwood, a scent that he normally enjoyed. He sighed with ennui as they peeled him out of his shirt. He hoped this wouldn’t take long.



~0~


Ororo sat quietly behind the screen in the Yellow Suite, sifting through Ainet’s jewelry box of costume trinkets that she’d sent up the week before. “Pretty,� she whispered over the creak of bedsprings in the adjacent bed quarters. Ramona had given her the trinkets to keep her occupied while she worked, promising her a sweet when they went back downstairs. Gideon had barked Farouk’s injunction to keep the child out of sight, not explaining why. She tsked before she went to get her client situated with a drink.

Ramona’s voice rose in pitch as she clawed his slick back. Ororo dimly wondered why the headboard kept making that knocking noise against the wall as she draped one of the rhinestone necklaces around her dollie Moira’s neck. She missed her favorite tea set. She would have invited Ramona to play. If she would only stop making that awful noise…

She almost missed Uncle Farouk. He smelled funny, but he smiled at her.

He’d told her mommy what a good girl she was, he said. He spoke to her last night about her sweet little girl. Farouk could do anything. Before she could even ask for what she wanted, he had Ramona or one of her “aunties� produce it out of thin air.

“He can do anything,� she whispered furtively to Moira. The doll gazed back soullessly as Ororo tried on a pair of clip-on earrings.


~0~


Vic already caught the runt’s scent on the stairs. He was refreshed and replete after the past hour of pummeling Farouk’s toys into the mattress. Just for posterity he skipped perusing the rooms and headed downstairs. The cloud of alcohol fumes and sweat was thick enough to cut with a knife.

No blood; most of the patrons cleared out already, but the dim lights from the gambling den still glowed from his vantage point in the main salon. He eyed Davey, lying limply against the edge of the table in the lounge, choking back a puddle of stale vomit. Vic wrinkled his nose in disgust. Lightweight.

Wait here, Victor. He bristled at the intrusive voice in his head, rubbing his throbbing temples. You might be needed.

Do ya even give a fuck that this place looks and smells like Skid Row? Thought ya ran a classier joint than this.

Be ready, Victor.

I always am.


~0~


Charles caught the exchange. Farouk drummed his fingers against his knee.

“Bluffing’s not your strong suit,� he smirked.

“No need to bluff when the cards turn in your favor, is there?� he countered. Charles allowed the corner of his mouth to rise almost indiscernibly. He raised Farouk a blue chip. Farouk easily tossed his answering bet into the pot.

“Then perhaps you’d like to wager something more substantial and worthwhile.� Charles shrugged, leaning back in his chair and resting his ankle over his knee.

“Nothing else you have to offer interests me, I’ll wager.�

“I believe I have something you will find worthy of that wager, Charles. Or someone.�

“I beg your pardon?� He could have sworn the eyes behind the narrow spectacles glowed a sinister yellow with anticipation.

“I don’t believe you two have met yet. You might enjoy that privilege if you beat my hand.�

“You’d have me wager on a human life?�

“I’d have you wager on one of my prized possessions. I own everything under my roof.� He gestured to the dealer, who wore a puzzled expression of awe one moment, than a steely look that he leveled at Charles that made his skin crawl. Eerily, he heard Farouk’s voice issuing from the swarthy man’s lips as he took up the deck and shuffled it once more. The cards flapped sharply against the table with practiced precision. “And everyone.�

“You don’t own me.�

“Yet.�

“You speak out of turn, sir.�

“If you like,� Farouk’s puppet smiled, taking a sip of the drink beside him and reaching for the small bowl of beer nuts. He munched a few casually. “My voice and my hand are far-reaching, and my will is sacrosanct.� Before Charles could react, his right-hand neighbor lunged over to grab at his cards, shoving him aside roughly.

He froze mid-reach, his expression stunned, not so much as twitching a muscle. Charles pried his hand away from his cards, and Farouk grinned with pleasure as he woodenly lurched back to life, turning on his heel and leaving the gambling den.

“We aren’t so different, are we then?�

“I won’t liken myself to someone who revels in enslaving human minds. Or using children,� Charles snapped. “Put up or shut up.�

Farouk merely revealed his cards, gracefully fanning them out.

Straight flush, ten high, suit of diamonds.

“Too rich for your blood?�

“I’m done with shedding blood, and I’m rich enough.� Charles slapped his hand face-up with no further preamble.

Royal flush, spades. Charles’ head ached from the lock he maintained on his thoughts. Blocking Farouk’s possession of his merc had taxed him to his limit.

They were silent. Farouk gestured briefly, and the remaining members of the party took their leave, meandering out on a muted grumble.

“You’re a lucky man.�

“If you like.�

“Care to raise the stakes?�


~0~


If there was one thing Logan could do, it was play drunk and dumb.

His hostesses were putting on a show and plying him with alcohol from Farouk’s stash. Good stuff, he pondered, noting the year and proof on the label as he tossed back another shot. The alcohol gave him a fleeting buzz that wore away each time either of the two frails touched him, kneading him through his white tank. His contract earlier didn’t make him feel this dirty. Pouting, glossy lips parted and teased him; his expression was come-hither until you saw his eyes.

“Tell me how you like it, Handsome.�

“I’ll let ya know how much I like it when ya show it ta me,� he informed the one in red. She backed up against him and rubbed herself along his flesh until he could feel her hair tickling his neck; he could nearly taste her sweat and the drinks she’d had leaking through her pores. Her partner giggled and clapped, enjoying the show.

The kid wasn’t any closer to being saved.

He quickly rose, shaking them off like water off a dog.

“Ya call this entertainment?� he accused roughly, and loud enough to be heard three rooms over. “Tell that bastard downstairs t’send up more girls, I ain’t goin’ nowhere fer a good, long while!�

“We’ll do whatever you w-“ Her promised landed on deaf ears. Logan was just getting warmed up. He staged a stagger typical of a man three sheets to the wind, and he bumbled his way to the door.

“DON’T!� her partner screeched, and they tripped over themselves to follow him as he lurched down the hall.

“Hey, HEY! Somebody find me…someone…who c’n do it right!� he slurred loudly, banging on random doors. The first one yielded a bleary, bloodshot client looking ready to kill, holding onto his unzipped pants. Logan stamped his foot and lunged at him, baring his canines, breathing 100-proof breath in his face; that sent him backpedaling into his room, slamming the door shut. He banged away at each successive door until he reached the fourth. The Bobsey Twins behind him were clinging to him, trying to drag him back before he changed his mind and denied them their fee.

“C’MON! LEMME IN!� he bellowed, banging an uneven, insistent tattoo. He ignored the footsteps making their way up the first flight of steps. He heard startled, indignant cries behind the door and the rustle of clothing.

“Go ‘way b’fore I call the boys downstairs!�

“Lemme in,� he barked.

“Fuck off� was the less-than-eloquent reply.

“Oh-hooooooh, this one sounds feisty,� he announced. “I like ‘em with some fight left in ‘em, sweetie, how much d’ya charge?�

The door was yanked open by a man who towered over Logan and who didn’t look happy at having his session interrupted. He barged his way into the hall and stared Logan down.

“Didn’t know ya were occupied, sweet cheeks,� he apologized to Ramona, taking in the way she shied away, clutching her blue satin robe closed.

All he wanted was for them open the door. The kid’s scent drew him in like a beacon. Bingo. His victory was short-lived…

“Knew ya couldn’t hold yer liquor, runt,� Vic accused, tsking under his breath. He sucked his teeth and stared him down. “She said don’t make her call the boys downstairs. Are ya deaf?�

“Do ya even hafta ask, Vic?�

“Habit,� he shrugged. “Sure were in a helluva hurry ta get outta this dump a little while ago.�

“Thought I might be missin’ somethin’,� he shrugged back, nodding to Ramona and her client. “Thought this was the peep show.�

“Ya thought wrong.� Vic cracked his knuckles. Logan grinned wolfishly.

“My bad.�

“Gonna have to wait your turn,� the tall stranger informed him crisply.

“Gonna hafta get outta my way,� he corrected him. SNIKT. Three gleaming, metallic claws gleamed under the light from the cobwebbed chandelier, and the gentleman drew back as far as he could go, back flat against the wall. He felt Logan’s breath steaming his face and bathing him in liquor fumes as he winced away and shivering, completely incoherent.

“Holy…w-what are y-you?� he whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.�

“Talkin’ a big game, runt, fer a guy who ain’t walkin’ away from here any time soon.�

“Ain’t walkin’ away til I get what I came here for.�

“Don’t count on it.� Vic was still rooted to the spot, arms folded impatiently, even though his smile was indolent, lacking concern. “Ain’t gonna do much walkin’ when I cut the legs out from under ya.�

“P-please,� stammered the previous subject of Logan’s annoyance.

“Yer distractin’ me, bub,� he informed him, keeping his eyes glued on Creed. He regretted it, since the view wasn’t that pretty. Subtlety, class, human feeling and anything resembling self-control and scruples were Creed’s enemies, and not in his lexicon. Logan’s hostesses abandoned him the hallway and locked the door behind him, their payment be damned.

“Ain’t actin’ like a gentleman, are ya, ya little prick? Let him finish what he was doin’,� Creed reasoned.

“I’ll let him walk away with all of his limbs.� Logan retracted and gave the man a rough shove away from the wall, sending him crashing to the floor; he was back up on his feet and pelting down the hall. Victor sighed gustily, flinging out his arm without so much as a blink. Ramona’s Prince Charming was clotheslined neatly and he fell back, choking at the blow to his throat.

His breath was cut off on a sickening gurgle as Vic reached down and plunged his talonlike fingers into his chest, making his blood spurt up and splatter his clean shirt. Ramona screamed and attempted to slam the door behind her, but Logan jammed his booted foot in the jamb.

“Now look what ya made me do,� Vic accused sourly. He rose, shaking off his hand and letting spare gore fly from his fingertips, speckling the walls and floor planks with crimson. “Ya owe me a shirt.�

“Put it on my tab.� Logan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. It twisted his gut that he was responsible for another life lost, intentional or not. Vic was just showing off. He justified it, deciding Ramona’s choice of company was lacking at best.

“Yer money ain’t any good here. Ya had ta come up here an’ disturb the peace. Ya wanna pay, ya better do it quick. Came here fer some R&R and a few laughs. Ya don’t take a guy away from a good beer fer this sorry shit.�

“Yer takin’ me away from business.�

Creed felt the faint mind touch from his boss again, this time chuckling low and egging him on.

“Yer not on the payroll anymore.� He rushed him, tired of playing patty cake. Logan pissed him off, always whining and killing his buzz. That first rusty, tangy hint of blood in the air was Vic’s morning coffee. Mister Holier Than Thou.

Fuck that…

Logan crouched nimbly, stance wide and solid as he extended all six claws. A savage cry was torn from his lips. He’d never admit out loud he’d been waiting for this for a long time, or that he’d seen it looming all damned day. Vic’s face darkened and twisted with malice.

It felt good to stab something, Logan mused, drawing first blood with his longer reach and adding to the abuses Victor’s shirt had already suffered as a gout of blood exploded from his neck. He growled, not even acknowledging it as he ducked and plowed his shoulder into Logan’s ribs and drove him back, taking out a huge chunk of drywall. Any other man would have heard his bones snapping like twigs with a blow like that. Logan merely grinned.

“That the best ya got, asshole?�

“Pfft,� he grunted back before head-butting him so hard his teeth rattled. Creed had a hard head. Logan saw stars and bit his tongue, tasting his own blood. Creed’s was all over him now. He brought up his knee, just missing catching him in the package, but it was just enough to get leverage to push him back. All he did was make him mad. He lunged for him this time, right fist flying, claws aimed at Creed’s cruel baby blues. His wrist was easily caught and held immobile, followed by his right. His talons bit deep into Logan’s flesh, and he snarled and promised retribution with eyes glowing amber with bloodlust. The Beast had risen. Vic huffed and snapped his jaws over Logan’s nose, hard enough for the cartilage to crunch between his teeth. He drew back and spit the ragged shreds of flesh and bloody foam directly into Logan’s eyes, throwing him off balance. They grappled, Creed’s size giving him the advantage as he drove Logan back again, forcing him as hard as he could to his knees.

Logan surprised him when he rolled back and pitched out his legs, planting them in Vic’s gut and neatly stunning him, flipping him over his head. Vic never learned to fall, and his landing was ungainly. No one had ever knocked him off his feet. Logan rolled and sprang back to his feet.

“C’mon, buttercup,� he spat, the blood in his eyes making his vision blurry, but he saw Vic grinning at him with red-streaked teeth. Vic recovered himself and charged, battering Logan with fists like medicine balls. Each blow fueled Logan’s initiative to get into that room and finish the job. He didn’t want to fathom what she was thinking, hearing this outside her door. Innocent blue eyes spurred him on; he parried each strike neatly, blunting and blocking him from tender targets. If he couldn’t take him out, the least he could do was tire him out. Talons clipped his jaw and came too close to his artery. Logan gave his own back, slashing him across the eyes and making him roar.

Blindness made him clumsy and lose his orientation. He could hear him just fine, compensating with the air whipping against his skin as his former partner jabbed for his vitals. He blocked. He clawed empty air when Logan ducked, but found purchase and fisted his hand in the neckline of his tank and hoisted him high, strangling him in a hungry grip. He shook him like a rag doll.

“Ya ain’t goin’ out the way ya came in.�

“Ditto.� Logan didn’t care about a graceful landing; the sound of metal cleaving through flesh, bone and tendon was a sweet love song to his ears as he severed Vic’s hand from his wrist. Vic’s bellow was ragged and channeled rage and shock that he’d been lured so easily. He staggered back, dumbfounded and clutching the remains of his limb. “Lefty.�

“Ain’t…through…runt,� he hissed; his breath was labored from blood loss and the blaze of rage and adrenaline still making his eyes spark, challenging Logan with worse to come.

“Fine.� Vic drove him back again, this time sweeping Logan’s legs out from under him, compensating neatly and enjoying himself and knee-dropping the breath out of him. His talons were poised over his jugular; he missed when Logan bucked and twisted, forcing him to drive his claws into the floorboards, of his one good hand. Logan didn’t miss. He was showered in more of Creed’s foul vermillion, spurting hotly over his face, slashing through his vocal cords. His face worked like a stunned guppy’s as he stumbled back, and Logan noticed the window behind him at the end of the hall, a faint, humid breeze stirring the lacy curtains…

He knew an opportunity when he saw one.

“Go ‘head,� he gurgled. “Gon’…gon’ keep…gettin’ up.� Logan buffeted him back with a rough shove. He evaded Logan’s claw’s reach easily, not realizing he’d been cornered and ignoring the draft against his back.

“Get up from this.� He drove his shoulder into Creed’s chest, startling him and knocking him off balance with enough momentum to shatter the window. Shards of glass and bits of old lace exploded as he plunged backward, his face incredulous that he’d been taken down. Three stories, Logan figured. He had about twenty minutes.

He went back to the Yellow Room, this time giving the door less abuse. “Lemme in, kiddo,� he beckoned. All he heard was hushed breathing, as far from the door as the occupants could manage. He sighed, hating what he had to do next. Wood splintered with one slam of his fist, his knuckles stinging and smarting after such a recent workout, but he ignored it. He saw Ramona’s silhouette outlined in the moonlight, crouched over behind the batiked silk partition. “Easy, now, Petunia. Ya know what I want already. Make this easy on yerself.� She was squirming, and he hated what he had to do. He tugged back the partition, treating her to a sight that would haunt her sleep as long as she drew breath.

He was blood-soaked and haggard, his flesh a melody of half-healed wounds and barely cloaked in the tatters of his khakis and undershirt. His hair stood in stiff tufts, some of it ripped out in grisly patches, and what looked like teeth marks decorated the bridge of his aquiline nose.

“Get out,� she cried, clutching the child close against her breast. “Haven’t you done enough? Just leave us now!�

“Can’t. She don’t belong here, and ya know that. Got a guy downstairs that’s more interested in this kid havin’ a future that don’t involve shit like this. Ya won’t soil her and let that fuck downstairs use her like he uses you an’ all yer playmates up here.�

“This is my life! No one pays like Farouk! No one gives us so much,� she hissed. The child lifted her face from the oppressive silk of Ramona’s robe, feeling stuffy and smothered by her cologne. Those cerulean eyes gazed up at him curiously.

“Noisy,� she accused him. “Bad.�

“Sorry, darlin’, but I can’t let ya stay here.�

“Noooooooo!� she wailed petulantly, putting up a fuss and clinging more tightly to Ramona. Her silky hair tickled her guardian’s lips and shone silver in the moonlight.

“He’ll find you,� she spat. “Even when you take her from here, he will find you! You don’t want to live any longer when you take what’s his.� Logan’s eyes scanned the tiny chamber, and they landed on a garish doll in ruffles lying on the floor. He picked it up and studied it quietly, regretting the blood smears on his fingers. It was the same dollie that she’d labored over so conscientiously downstairs in the den. “You can take her with ya, sweetheart. C’mon, come with me. Got a nice man downstairs who wants ta take ya home.�

She struggled loose from Ramona, prying herself from her arms and ignoring her cry of anguish. “Give it back! Give me! Give me! MINE!� Her tiny fists hammered against his bruised thighs, and he grunted, admiring her spirit.

“Come an’ get it,� he beckoned, hating that he felt like a bully. She had to come of her own will, or all she’d ever remember was the big, scary man who stole her away.

“Mean! You’re a mean man,� she insisted.

“Don’t mean ta be, kiddo. If ya come with me, ya can have her back.� Again, he hated the words as they came out of his mouth, luring a tiny child just like a predator.

“Ororo, please, stay with Auntie ‘Mona,� Ramona pleaded, trying to snatch her back, but this time, she darted from her grasp and hid behind Logan’s legs.

“It’s mine! WANT IT!� she claimed. “Give it BACK!� Her tiny fists flailed against the back of his legs this time, and he winced in discomfort.

“C’mon then, Princess.� Logan retreated, holding up his hands in surrender, doll clutched lightly in his grip. He walked away, a first for him in his line of work. To his satisfaction, she chased after him, her footsteps light.

“GIVE IT BACK!� He kicked aside the shambles of the door before entering the hall, avoiding her having to crawl around it. He was thankful that she wore tiny, thin-soled sandals on her tiny feet.

“It’s an awfully nice dollie. Think I wanna play with her myself. What’s her name?� He kept walking, leading her a not-so-merry chase.

“Moy-rah,� she cried. “MINE!�

“That’s a different name,� he murmured thoughtfully, occasionally peering back over his shoulder. She was pouting daggers at him, and he got a good look at her under the light, finally getting a good look at her. She showed promise of being striking, if and when she reached adulthood. He meant to see that nothing stopped her from doing that. “She like playing with ya, darlin’?�

“WANT MOY-RAH!� She hurried around him and blocked his path, stomping her foot. “NOW! WANT MOY-RAH!�

“Only if yer a good girl,� he offered. “Can ya be a good girl an’ come with me ta meet the nice man downstairs? He’s a friend of Farouk.� Her ears pricked up.

“Uncle,� she murmured. “Gave me Moy-Rah.� She pointed at the dollie but still didn’t look like she in the mood to cooperate.

“Sometimes people that ain’t so nice give ya things, darlin’, ta make ya do what they want.� It struck him as ironic that he was about to do the same thing, and he hated himself a little more.

“Stay here,� she huffed, as though she read his mind. Little scamp, he marveled, suppressing a smile.

“Don’t ya miss having other kids ta play with?� he inquired. She mulled it over, and he could see the gears turning in her head.

“Jaf-ett,� she declared. “Jaf-ett says ‘Roro big girl.� She sounded proud; Logan decided that was one of her friends from the orphanage Chuck mentioned.

“Ya wanna see him again, darlin’?� He gave the name a try. “Japheth? Ya miss him?� She nodded solemnly.

“Show Jaf-ett Moy-Rah.� She pointed at her dollie and looked at him as though she were explaining it to someone deficient.

“Then what are ya waitin’ for, kiddo? Let’s show him.� He futilely wiped his hand on his trousers before extending it to her. Soft, diminutive fingers wrapped around his in a strong grip as she followed him down the steps. Halfway down the flight, he scooped her up and balanced her on his hip. Protectiveness surged through him as he handed her the purloined doll, and he even felt a strange twinge of pride when her slender arm snaked around his neck. Her clothing held a hint of Ramona’s perfume, but her scent was otherwise clean and unsullied. Her face still held traces of the inappropriate makeup that her surrogate aunts must have indulged her with; he vowed to scrub it clean at first chance.

He wasn’t foolish enough to assume he’d just walk out the front door, but the saloon was eerily quiet when he reached the foot of the steps. The kitchen doors were still swinging back and forth, creaking in the silence. There was evil in the air.


~0~


Sweat rolled off of Charles’ brow and dripped into his eyes; his fingers dug into the arms of his chair as he concentrated on his adversary, no longer exchanging pleasantries. Farouk’s smile was malevolent, but his face showed strain, the veins standing out starkly in his bulging neck.

They weren’t truly there, despite the sight they made for the casual onlooker, if there were any. They’d cleared out completely at the deafening crash and the sound of Victor plummeting into the alley from the window.

Charles knew he wasn’t dead, even if his life was playing before his eyes in various scenes in the dark, twisted collage of memories. The landscape kept twisting and warping no matter where he turned. He held out his hands, turning them over, noting the golden resonance of his astral form with wonder. It was his idealized image of himself, the trappings of his inner strength and fortitude. He felt larger than life, and up to the task at hand.

“Look at you,� Farouk’s voice intoned. He could tell where it was coming from, but the various images before him, his life flipping like pages of a book were suddenly rended asunder and torn to bits. Fearsome, leonine claws darted out and took a swipe at him, and his chest exploded in burning pain.

He was bleeding. He drew his hand away from his flesh in disbelief. It couldn’t be happening…

“Anything’s possible, my friend. The Pearl is my playground, but this is my domain. Once again, you’re my guest. Enjoy your stay; you won’t be leaving. The house takes all,� he purred. The ground beneath Charles’ feet shook, nearly knocking him off-balance, but he anchored himself, drawing his own will around himself like armor.

“You’re no gentleman.�

“I despise rules. I have no need of them.� Farouk’s tone was smug but deafening, resounding like a thunderclap as he finally showed himself. Like Charles, his astral form far exceeded the limits of his flesh, looming massive and powerful, Cronus before he devoured the gods. Daggerlike teeth and cruel, piercing eyes raked over Charles, and he leaned in close to better confront this upstart who’d dared engage him in his own game.

“Then you have no need of living. You defy the order of things, and no man who’s ever dared to acknowledge life’s limits has walked away from it without being punished.�

“Limits,� he scoffed back. His fingers wrapped themselves around Charles’ middle in a crushing grip, just to watch him struggle like a trapped mouse. “I gave you the opportunity to live life without your foolish, self-imposed limits, Xavier! You waste your gift to walk among the lowly insects when you could soar above them, make them worship you! I decide who will gain from following me, and I am the one who will punish.� Charles cried out as he felt his mind jarred and burning from Farouk’s talons as he sank them in deep.

In the gambling den, Charles grimaced in pain.

“I control whomever I want, whenever I please. Don’t tell me about limits! You’re a stripling, Charles. I’ve lived longer than I can describe or than you could fathom. I’ve lived several lives and seen things through many sets of eyes, delved into memories of countless minds, been privy to unlimited secrets. Why struggle to eke out your living when you’ve so many resources at your fingertips! You think you can help those special, precious mutants and change the way powerless men think?�

“No one’s truly powerless unless they stop fighting,� he rasped, still struggling. “You won’t crush or mold me so easily.�

“No?� The hands both grasped him this time, rending him apart and stretching his essence like taffy. Charles screamed long, loud, and raggedly, his agony deep and relentless. He was adrift…alone…cold…empty. “Then perhaps you prefer dying.� Memories long suppressed rose up and bit at him with sharp teeth; his mother, shrinking away from his stepfather, her belly looming round and filling out her loose top as she staggered up the steps. Charles heard and felt each blow as he beat her, treating her worse than an animal. His brother Cain, taunting him and riding him mercilessly, jeering every time he rose to defend himself. His schoolmates mocking him when he’d lost his hair. War. Loss. Fire. Blood.

His consciousness drowned in a tide of catastrophe as Farouk smothered him. He witnessed the catastrophes that had besieged the earth from the moment of its creation. Darkness. The loss of Eden. The fall of the angels. Earthquakes. Plagues. More bloodshed. Empires burned to the ground. People enslaved. Populations driven out and exterminated on a whim. The splitting of an atom… he was immersed in it.

“You’re a victim,� Farouk rumbled. “Helpless. You haven’t changed; from the cradle you were doomed to mediocrity, and to submit to the strength of those who embrace it. Worthless. Conquered.� His mouth was cavernous, threatening to swallow him. “Unloved. Making no mark on this world. Saving no one. Scattered into the ether like so much dust.� Burning, tingling defiance stung his lungs and clawed its way up from his soul.

“Fool,� he cried. “FOOL!� He began to glow, unleashing power he never knew he had, untapped and unmeasured until that moment. He felt his essence strengthening itself, drawing it back into himself until he was cohesive again, and Farouk gave pause as his pet began to struggle free, breaking his iron grip as he swelled and grew, gaining momentum and volume, looming larger and more imposing with each breath.

“I’ve made my mark. I’ve known love. It anchors me. Nourishes me, even the mere memory of it. I don’t know to surrender. I know only to fight.� Energy glowed around him in an aura, burning so brightly that Farouk backed away from its brilliance. It burned him. Blinded him. “I won’t be your victim. And humankind won’t be your puppets. I won’t suffer the insult of your presence on this world, Farouk. You will conquer nothing. You’ll abuse no one. Not while I draw breath will one more soul fall victim to your whims and twisted needs. You’re a blight, and I can’t tolerate that.� He reached out one glowing hand as Farouk loomed before him, grisly and menacing, but he didn’t hesitate. They clashed, melding and invading each other’s consciousness in a deadly dance that promised no winner, only a survivor. Farouk recoiled, stunned at his gall.

In the den, Farouk’s hands twitched, and he emitted a low moan of denial, his eyes clamped shut. Charles breathed harshly as he fought for dominance.

“Taste fear,� Charles beckoned. It was his turn to reach deep into his adversary’s mind and tear the black, ugly mass free from its hiding place. Farouk howled his denial and lashed out against it, but he’d been trapped in a prison of his own making.

It burned.

It bit at him with jagged teeth.

He searched for an anchor, a hint of brightness to chase away the suffocating gloom and his pending demise.

He found it. Warm. Yielding. Unafraid.

Pure.


~0~


From the moment Charles laid down his cards, mere minutes had elapsed, leading up to the moment Logan’s foot reached the bottom step, Ororo tucked in his arms.

He knew the worst was yet to come as he felt the assault of his brain being torn nearly in two. Blood leaked from his nose as he staggered, buckling and nearly dropping his small charge. He knelt and suppressed a ragged scream, unwilling to undo his progress with the child when he’d managed to convince her to come this far. She pried herself loose from him but bent over his quaking body. He clutched his head, wanting to tear away his skin. Tear away the pain…

“Hurts,� she whispered. “Hurts you.�

“Get…back, darlin’.�

“Need Uncle F’rouk,� she cried, and she ran in the direction of the gambling den.

“NO! DON’T!�

“UNCLE!� She dropped Moira on the sodden floorboards, adding to the abuses of the red ruffled dress.

Farouk moaned in defiance.

“Kill me,� he murmured. “This isn’t the end.�

“It is,� Charles informed him. He grasped the black heart beating below the swirling dark miasma, nearly losing himself in it, and he squeezed with all of his might.

In the gambling den, Farouk fell forward, collapsing against the table with a thud. Blood drizzled from the corner of his mouth. That was the sight that greeted Ororo as she darted inside. The ribbons tied to the grill of the fan whipped and fluttered. The room was still, except for the harsh breathing of the bald man in the chair.

“I don’t fear you, even in death. And she will fear no one. That will ultimately destroy her, and any who champion her.� His sonorous laughter surrounded him, and Charles shut it out, squeezing, stabbing, choking, spearing the beast…

…until all was silent.

Logan grunted, clutching his head and dragging his feet toward the den. The room seemed to spin around him, and Ororo’s scent was near enough to relieve him; he hadn’t lost her.

He found out that he was wrong. She lay on the floor, sprawled next to her doll. Her breathed, but her eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, a stunned expression on her face.

“God. Oh, God. No,� he cried, his voice plaintive for perhaps the first time in his life. “C’mon, baby, don’t just lie there, d’ya hear me?� He scooped her up into his arms, hating how weightless she felt. “I’m gonna take ya home, like I promised! I keep my promises, darlin’!� He rocked her and murmured soothing words into her hair. Her heartbeat was steady but faint. She stared up at him, but she never saw him. He paid no heed to the figure stirring back to life at the table and striding toward him on shaky legs.

“You found her,� he breathed, leaning down to stroke her lustrous hair. Logan said nothing, merely glared up at him as he continued to rock her. Charles noticed he had something small tucked into his hand, adding to his present burden. Charles took that opportunity to gently probe her mind.

“She’s in shock. But she’s still inside, trapped,� he informed Logan. “We need to take her away from here.�

“No shit, genius.� Logan nodded to Farouk’s corpulent, lifeless body. “Don’t get me wrong; ain’t a soul in here that’ll cry a tear when they find him, except the poor bastards who hafta haul him out and clean up after him. But I ain’t stickin’ around, like this,� he gestured to his ruined clothing, “ta greet ‘em when they get here.�

“Yer right where ya need ta be, slowpoke. Didn’t think I’d just let ya waltz outta here free an’ clear?� The gambling den reeked of death, and the tall, bald guy smelled guilty. “Big Guy’s not in here anymore,� Vic muttered, pointing to his head. “Guy was my boss. Paid my check an’ kept me in bread an’ butter. If that sweet thing’s worth somethin’ ta Farouk, then she might be worth something ta me, too. Or ta whoever wants ta pay fer her. Ya ain’t takin’ her anywhere.�

“We’re done here,� Charles corrected him before Logan could get up; he never released Ororo, clutching her more tightly and eyeing Creed warily, like a lioness snarling and guarding her cub.

“I didn’t say ya were done, cue ball!� He lunged at them, talons raised, looking every inch the predator, slavering and hungry.

And just like that, he froze in his tracks, his blue eyes glazed as he fought to remain coherent. “What…the flamin’…fuck?� He fell to his knees, much like Logan had, and blood ran in narrow runnels from his ears and nose. The veins in his hands bulged, and Logan could see the whites of his eyes as they rolled back. He crashed in a heap to the floor, twitching violently, and Logan mustered a shred of pity. He was mesmerized by the sight of Creed lying helplessly, but he still tightened his grip on the child in his arms.

He’d had enough blood for one night.

“Don’t know if I’m happy ya just did that, Charley, or if yer makin’ me feel like the wrong guy bit the big one.�

“Make up your mind on your way out of here.� Logan rose and exited the gambling den, dropping the small, red item he’d been carrying in his haste. Charles bent to retrieve the doll, a bit worse for wear, and he managed a tiny smile.

The drive across the veldt yielded choking dust and scorching sun as Charles’ Jeep kicked up stones and debris in their wake. Logan peered back every now and again to check on their diminutive passenger buckled into the backseat, still dozing due to the oppressive heat. Logan fought to stay awake, his efforts in vain against the haze over the horizon and never-changing scenery, with scorched sand and desiccated plants as far as the eye could see.

Charles was spent but pressed ahead, handling the Jeep easily, like someone accustomed to rough terrains. He’d stopped twice to refuel and replenish their rations; Logan didn’t protest such infrequent respites from their trek, thanks to his healing factor and the knowledge that Farouk’s hands reached far and wide, even in death. The girl wasn’t safe, and she was too conspicuous. They also had an unexpected travel companion.

“How ya holdin’ up, darlin’?�

“Fresh as a damned daisy,� Ainet barked, sucking deeply on her unfiltered cigarette and flicking the ash out the window flap. She peered down at Ororo’s snowy hair and gently smoothed it.

“How far are we?�

“Not much longer,� she informed him.

“Best news I’ve heard all day.�

“We’re marked now, y’know,� Ainet reminded him.

“That ain’t changed since yesterday, darlin’. Least not for me,� Logan shrugged.

“Everything’s gone for me now. I’m startin’ over with nothing,� she snapped.

“We’re all in the same boat.�

“I’m a man of my word, madam,� Charles interjected. “You will be well compensated and won’t want for anything.�

“If I had a thin dime for every time a man’s told me that, I’d be richer than Farouk.� Logan suppressed a smile. “Turn here.� Logan took the right in the bend in the road, glad to see the long line of shanties and tin rooftops and the drying clothing fluttering on the hot breeze. Logan was craving a cigar himself, jealous over Ainet’s immediate gratification for her tobacco fix.

It was the least they could spare her, considering she’d given up everything in the dead of night.




The night before:

“AINET! Open up, darlin’!� BANG, BANG, BANG! Logan pounded the door to the apartment adjoining the boutique as the locals began to mill in the street. Word of the incident in Farouk’s saloon was spreading fast, and Logan and Charles looked too guilty. Logan listened for sounds of the living inside, finally hearing the scuff of soft house shoes against the rickety floor boards. Ainet offered no greeting as she yanked open the door. She clutched her red satin dressing gown closed and glared at him, nostrils flaring and her face implacable.

“My girls are already hard at work at the Pearl,� she snapped. “Y’have no business knocking me up at this hour, Patch.�

“We’ll talk about yer girls on the road, gal,� he offered gruffly. “Ya gotta get outta here.�

“Like hell,� she retorted, drawing herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much. Her body was slender and surprisingly taut for a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Her hair was dark and abundant, springing up in wiry girls that were garishly streaked a lighter color. Her skin was scrubbed clean and gleaming beneath the dim porch light. She fanned and swatted away flies drawn to its glow as she sized them up. “Don’t make me sic Victor on your scrawny behind, Patch. Y’don’t ask me for anything after hours. Just ask Farouk if - “

“Farouk’s dead.� Logan shifted his burden, wrapped in a light, rough blanket more carefully against his shoulder.

“I don’t believe you.� Nevertheless, her eyes dilated and she fisted her robe more tightly.

“Ya know I ain’t lyin’, darlin’. Ya can’t feel him anymore either, can ya? I know ya don’t sleep at night with him pokin’ around where he don’t belong.� Dark circles ringed her eyes, which were now narrowed and pinning him where he stood.

“I don’t even want t’ask what y’had to do with him suddenly being gone.�

“Ya don’t wanna know. And for the record, Ainet, it wasn’t me.� Her eyes flitted to Charles, his blue eyes looking strained and his skin flushed.

“Small comfort.�

“Pack up yer stuff, yer comin’ with us.�

“Not likely,� she grunted, her eyes screaming that he was one can shy of a six-pack in light of what he’d just told her.

“We need ya, and you need us. Someone’s gotta help take care of the punkin’ here,� he explained. Ainet’s glare lost some of its wattage and she reached out, jerking down the edge of the coverlet, revealing soft white hair and smooth brown cheeks.

“Have y’lost your mind, Patch?!� Despite herself, Ainet’s strong hands tugged the child from his arms, and he surrendered her reluctantly. “You might as well have raided the damned safe, while y’were at it!�

“Didn’t have time,� he shrugged, but he was relieved to see her moving about her modest living room that was separated from her boudoir by a flimsy gauze curtain. Small, slender brown arms crept up around her neck as she began tugging items out of drawers and sweeping toiletries off the old dresser into a tapestry carpetbag. She tugged out a pair of rolled-up socks and seated herself for a moment, propping Ororo up on her lap and yanking them onto her tiny, dusty feet. She rummaged further for a long gauze scarf and bunched her hair into a twisted knot, tying it securely before bundling her back into the blanket. She laid her on the battered sofa where she stirred only to find her thumb and sleepily suck on it while Ainet resumed her packing.

“Y’think everyone working for Farouk hasn’t heard of this baby girl? She’ll stick out like a sore thumb.�

“I ain’t arguin’ that point with ya. And the last time anyone saw me was at the Pearl, whooping it up. If we leave fast enough, no one’ll be able ta say they saw me leavin’ yer place. All things considered, though, it ain’t like they’d be all that surprised.� Ainet narrowed her bloodshot eyes dangerously.

“Fuck you,� she spat, but she continued to pack.

“So, ya comin’ then?� A string of incomprehensible curses escaped her lips; Logan didn’t ponder what any of them meant, but he guessed they were from him. Charles merely watched her completing her chore…and blushed, a strange look on his face.

“Rather colorful vocabulary.�

“She loves me,� Logan boasted dryly.

“Sleep with one eye open tonight.�

“Wasn’t plannin’ on sleepin’ anyway, Chuck.�

Ainet did a final sweep of her humble quarters before dashing into the tiny kitchenette, grabbing a small, discarded cardboard box. Everything in the cupboard was tossed inside; the only thing she retrieved from the olive green refrigerator was a half-empty bottle of juice. She filled a second empty bottle beside the sink with water and capped it, tossing it to Logan.

“Shake a leg, woman!�

“One last thing,� she snapped. She retrieved Ororo’s dollie from the side table, along with one more from her cluttered bureau, its hair and outfit in surprisingly good condition. “Child has to have something to hold on to, or have you forgotten what that’s like?�

“Never knew what it was ta begin with, darlin’. Ya wanna hurry up now.� She shoved her carpetbag at him and beckoned for Charles to carry the box of provisions while she scooped up her sleeping charge. “God help you, child, from men like these,� she grumbled, but caught the soft look in her eyes as she tugged the coverlet once more over her head and swept outside.



~0~

Back at the Pearl, a humid wind rattled the curtains and carried the fetid odors inside from the street to mingle with the miasma of blood, death and stale liquor. A body lying on the floor stirred with a guttural groan, cursing at the metallic, coppery taste in his mouth. He spat and struggled to right himself, leaning up from the floorboards on shaking arms.

“Kin…still…smell ya, runt,� he rasped, before his eyes scanned the saloon and landed on the poker table. Farouk was still slumped and staring sightlessly ahead, his expression defiant and surprised. His beady eyes still appeared to pin Vic, as though still able to read his intent. Vic sneered, but he had greater priorities.

The bloat still hadn’t paid him.

He stomped out of the chamber and noticed Gideon and Davey still unconscious, wrinkling his nose in disgust; leave it to them to go out on a bender. A quick look around the kitchen showed him that the serving staff got the hell out once Logan went out the front door. Myriad scents told him which way they exited from the bar, but no one thought to head to the bookkeeping office in back.

Subtlety wasn’t an issue. The door splintered with a satisfying crash with one blow of his fist, and he kicked the rest of it off the hinges. He retrieved Gideon’s .45 from the desk drawer and aimed, taking out the lock on the safe. That night’s take had been good, he mused, packing the cash into an envelope and shoving the thick wad beneath his belt, dropping the hem of his bloodstained shirt to cover it.

The runt could wait. His scent continued along the gravel street, toward Ainet’s boutique, but fresh tire tracks told him he’d left town. Vic contemplated relieving one of the locals of their trucks, but thought better of it. He wasn’t in any hurry.

Eventually Logan would drop right into his hands.

Victor took one last look around his surroundings and sighed. It’d take him forever to wash off its stench. He lumbered back to the bar and plundered its offerings, selecting a bottle of Jack Daniels. He downed it thirstily, wiping his mouth as he plucked up a damp dishtowel from the counter. Wrapping it around another bottle of gin, he knotted it and lit the end with his Zippo, cavalierly chucking it behind him.

The flames threw an orange glow over his back as he departed the saloon. He never looked back.


~0~



“Nice digs, darlin’,� Logan commented.

“Don’t get too comfortable, you or your uppity friend,� she advised him as she laid Ororo out on a low cot and peeled back the coverlet. Curious children were already clamoring by her window to peek inside, and she shooed them away, swatting at them with a rolled-up newspaper, cursing in Egyptian. “Y’can’t mean to stay.�

“Didn’t plan on it.�

“Don’t expect me to feed you, unless you want to head to the market…�

“Tell me what ya need.�

“Everything that’s in that box that we brought, go out and buy more of it. Your friend can make himself useful by filling up the jugs from the well. It’s a mile down the road.� She pointed over her shoulder with a jerk, directing Charles where to go. He was already reaching for the jugs in question when she beckoned to him, “Put a hat on that shiny head of yours, while you’re at it! Bad enough folks’ll see you leaving my place!�

“This is your home?� Charles inquired.

“If you like,� she replied sourly. “Logan dragged me out of my place of business, but for all intents, yes, this is my home, such as it is. Farouk was kind enough t’let me think I was free from his eyes and ears here. I was foolish enough and desperate enough to believe it. Keeps me sane.� She didn’t hesitate to light another cigarette, not caring if either of her guests had any objections. She plunked herself down in one of her kitchen chairs, kicking off her shoes and digging her toes into the braided rag rug on the floor. “What are you planning to do with the child?�

“I have a colleague who is very concerned about her safety who would like me to bring her back with me.�

“Bring her where?�

“Back to the orphanage in Kenya where she came from.�

She snorted with exasperation, shaking her head until her dreadlocks rattled. “You’re fooling yourself if y’think she’s better off there than here.�

“Moira intended to adopt her before Ororo here was abducted.� Logan’s hackles stood up at the sound of that name.

“Moira? Shit. Ya picked now ta tell me that, Chuck!�

“Excuse me?�

“The kid. That’s what she called her doll. Stubborn little cuss, too. Yelled at me upstairs before I talked her into going with me. ‘Want Moy-rah,’ or some such shit.� Charles scowled.

“So she might not have been talking about the doll. Logan, I think Ororo wants to go back to the orphanage was much as Moira wants her back.�

“Tell me another one,� Ainet scoffed, taking a long drag into her lungs.

“Listen to the man a sec!�

“Moira was observing the children as part of her sabbatical and assisting with the inoculations and medical care at the orphanage. She sent me a vision in her mind of Ororo.�

“The devil you say.� Ainet paused in opening a jar of preserves on the counter, a thick, dry slab of bread already laid on the plate.

Give what I say a chance before you choose not to believe.

Logan didn’t even flinch when Ainet yanked a large kitchen knife from the drawer and pointed it at Charles’ throat in a twinkling. Her nostrils were flared again, like when they’d met, but this time Logan could smell her fear.

“You’re just like him!� she swore. “Like Amahl! STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!�

“Easy, darlin’, just settle down!� Logan easily relieved her of the knife, moving so quickly she didn’t even see him abandon his perch in the doorframe; it clattered from her numb fingers to the floor.

“Get out,� she warned him, her voice low and unsteady.

“Give us a chance, darlin’. We gotta plan out where we go next. Ya don’t hafta keep us, but we’ve gotta get our girl there,� he nodded to the cot, “where she’s missed the most. Chances are, that’s where she’ll be safest.�

“Moira doesn’t live in the region. She’s from overseas.� With a pang, Charles remembered the verdant groves and expansive lawn surrounding Moira’s estate. A brief vision of her riding ahead of him on horseback, hair flying, distracted him for a moment, but he mastered it.

“M’not arguing that she needs to be taken from here,� Ainet pointed out, as though she were explaining it to someone deficient. “But you’ve put me in a bad place. You’ve come here with me. Most of the heathens working for Farouk - yourself included, Logan - don’t know anything more than my job at the shop and my girls under my wing. They’ll have to fend for themselves, too.� Her lips were pulled into a grim line. She’d already gnawed off most the blood-red lipstick she’d applied just for appearances that morning. “What the hell have y’done?�

“I don’t wanna think about that now.� He waved her away and extracted his lighter from his pocket. “Gonna have a smoke outside.�

“In the back!� she barked imperiously. He waved at her again over his shoulder and stomped out. “And you, hurry up with that water.� She dismissed him by turning her back, chewing on the bread as though it were leather. He didn’t linger, even though he was loathe to leave the slightly cooler air of her home. The heat bit deeply into him, steam rising from the street and baking him from the inside out as it penetrated the soles of his low boots. Charles took the opportunity to scan the minds of the people milling around him. For the most part, all who saw him were curious about the American-looking stranger with stiff posture, hauling the jugs, but he sensed no hostility, which was a far cry from the denizens of the Pearl. He stopped at a nearby stall and gestured to the vendor’s small cart beside his stall, communicating well enough with him to ask if he could rent it from him. Money spoke more eloquently than he could; he didn’t mind the man’s thoughts at his expense that a fool and his money were easily parted, but it relieved him of having to carry the jugs himself.

He knew he was being followed on his way back, but he sensed no hostility this time, either. Once he returned, he found Logan finishing his cigar, chewing on the sodden end of the stub. Ainet was inside, putting away the meager food they’d brought from her apartment. Charles had no sooner set the jugs down before Ainet was carping at him again.

“Help Patch get the food. Keep yourself busy.� Before he could answer, Charles heard someone outside shooing away the children lingering outside the door.

“AINET!� A swarthy man garbed in loose pants and a sleeveless button-down shirt of seersucker cotton let himself inside, banging open the door. “Everyone said y’came back.� She grunted in agreement as he stared at Charles. “What the fuck are you doing here?� Charles realized the question was directed at him.

“Leaving soon,� she answered for him. “You may not have heard by now, but Farouk’s dead.� Charles almost felt the shiver that ran down this new guest’s back.

“Shit,� he breathed.

“Ya can say that again,� Logan sighed as he came back inside. “Heard business was pretty good, Achmed.�

“As good as it can be,� he reasoned. “Never seen you here when you’ve had good news, Patch.�

“Don’t expect that ta change, bub.�

“So you killed that giant leech, then?�

“Wasn’t me.� His eyes jerked from Logan to Charles, and he whistled long and low through his teeth. And stepped back from him. The corner of Logan’s mouth quirked up for a moment, and he cleared his throat.

“What’s on your mind?� Ainet offered, impatient with the discussion already.

“Word has it that there’s been trouble down at the mines a few miles up. They raided it. Took their tools, food, some children. They left behind bodies and torched everything else.� Ainet looked grim.

“They’re coming for us, aren’t they?�

“We don’t know that yet,� he replied.

“That means yes,� Logan supplied. Suddenly he flinched, frowning as he retreated to the back of the house.

“Where’s he going?� Achmed demanded.

“Our traveling companion just woke up,� Charles informed him, having heard the shift in Ororo’s thoughts.

Logan silently brushed aside the rough curtain and peered inside. She was sitting up on the cot, rubbing her eyes, her rosebud mouth pouting in momentary confusion. She sensed his eyes on her and she looked up. He sucked in a breath, not wanting to frighten her…

She didn’t move a muscle or say a word. Her kerchief had slipped loose from her hair and it was lying on the cot. Sunlight was slipping in through the gap between the curtain and window jamb and making her silver hair gleam so bright that it blinded him.

“Don’t be afraid, darlin’,� he told her. His senses told him she wasn’t, despite his rough appearance. He entered the room slowly, and her eyes pinned him, startling him again with their intense color and depth. He couldn’t describe them. The lively fire and spirit that greeted him before in the saloon was gone, replaced by an eerie blankness. Something had been squelched and extinguished inside of her since she’d stared him in the face, and he mourned its loss. It unsettled him, stabbing him in the gut; his fingers reflexively clenched, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse.

“Want somethin’ ta eat?� No reply. She continued to look through him before scanning the unfamiliar surroundings with more resignation than curiosity. She rose, ignoring him as she poked around in Ainet’s belongings. Her eyes landed on the carpetbag, and she began to rummage through it, undoing the clasps with difficulty after two attempts, and Logan watched her reach inside. She pawed through it a moment before lifting out the doll, smoothing out its crumpled red dress, not caring how soiled it was. She went back to the cot and sat with the doll propped on her lap, as though she were holding a child.

“Ya gotta tell me what ya want, punkin’,� he entreated. Still no response. “Have it yer way.� He turned to leave, and wasn’t completely surprised when he heard light steps behind him.

Achmed’s eyes widened when he saw her enter the room from the short hall.

“You took her,� he announced.

“Sure as shit we took her.�

“You’re a dead man.�

“Farouk’s deader than me.�

“Anyone waiting t’take his place’s going to be running down anyone who gets in their way. Farouk was a devil, I won’t deny it. But he protected me and mine. They’re urchins,� he muttered, gesturing in the general direction of the window, where children were still trying to stare inside before Ainet pulled the curtain. “But they’re my urchins. And Farouk’s. Now they’re vulnerable.� He peered at Ororo, who made herself comfortable on a short stool.

“What about you?� Logan inquired.

“As good as dead,� he deadpanned. “God save me from taking them all with me.�

The sounds of a clamor in the streets roused Logan from contemplating his words, and he heard the crunch of gravel beneath large wheels. Two trucks, maybe three. Men’s voices raised. Stumbling feet, trying to get out of the way.

“Hide her,� Charles ordered, scooping up Ororo and handing her to Ainet as she emerged from her kitchen.

“What the hell are you -“

“GO!� She didn’t argue with him, nor did she watch him file out of the house with Logan and Achmed in tow.

Logan smelled gunpowder, tobacco and stale liquor as men began unpiling from the large pickup trucks and a gray Jeep, rifles slung over their backs. The children who lingered around Ainet’s yard were gone from sight, and he saw vendors scrambling out of their stalls, collecting what they could before clambering off the streets.

He was never one for mincing words.

“What the fuck are ya doin’ here?�

“None of your business, Patch,� murmured the tall driver of the Jeep, with skin as dark as midnight and a mean scar over his eye. His front passenger climbed out, his expression menacing as he held his rifle in a tight grip.

“Yer a long way away from home, Sol,� he remarked casually.

“None of your business,� he repeated, “Patch.�

“Maybe I’m makin’ it my business.� SNIKT. Achmed staggered back at the sight of the gleaming claws erupting from his flesh, tearing the skin like it was butter. Charles was nonplussed.

“You shouldn’t be here,� Charles murmured calmly. Solomon sneered with contempt.

“Won’t be the first time someone who didn’t belong here himself told me where I needed to be,� he hissed, scratching his chin. His stubble sounded like sandpaper. Behind him his companions were already disembarked from the trucks, most of them a gang of boys ranging from school-aged to mid-teens. Their eyes were dead. Charles was appalled at how desensitized they were, and at their extreme lack of accountability. They wandered through the streets, knocking on windows, jeering and taunting the occupants inside. Before Charles could argue, a large rock crashed through the window of a small one-bedroom shack. Terror assailed Charles’ thoughts from this new source. This was the cue for each of the boys to begin rooting through the stalls and rousing people from their homes, guns waving in warning.

“I knew ya weren’t gonna make this easy,� Logan growled. Solomon shrugged.

He fired a shot directly at him, hitting his chest dead-center. Logan grunted and staggered a moment, staring with disinterest at the blood spurting from the wound.

“Dumb ass!� He lumbered forward, jerking each time another round hit him, riddling his body with torn flesh and ragged holes. Gunpowder and blood filled his nostrils and burned his throat.

His claws neatly cleaved through the air, separating Solomon’s hands from his wrists. Charles dove for cover from the last round that nearly took him as the rifle hit the ground, and Solomon bellowed a gurgling cry before Logan lurched forward and gutted him, plunging his claws into his chest cavity and nearly lifting him off the ground.

The next few minutes were a blur. Logan’s growls were savage, the roar of a lion provoked from its den, charging ahead as Charles jerked Achmed behind him, his first priority the civilians as he pulled him inside a house on the corner. The intruder in Charles’ sites towered over a woman curled up in the corner, praying for him to leave as she held her child in a nearly strangling grip, hands covering his head. He cried out in pain and his words died in his throat. Achmed swore behind him as he lurched to his knees. Blood dripped onto the floor from his nose.

“What…do…t’me,� he grunted before he toppled over, face down and immobile. His limbs twitched and Achmed heard the final wheeze issue from his chest. He looked ready to vomit.

“Get them somewhere safe!� Charles ordered before storming out of the house. Achmed gathered his wits and did was he was told, shoving them toward a small cellar in the back of the house. He paused to grab a long kitchen knife and handed it to the mother, who peered up at him thankfully, albeit still terrified.

Logan cursed at the burning tingle of the bullets working their way loose from their moorings in his flesh, feeling the vessels and muscle knit themselves back together. It was excruciating. Ain’t got fuckin’ time t’bleed… He followed the sounds of screams from one house to the next, wanting to roar to the sky at the screams of woman being hauled out from their homes, children shrieking and coughing up dust behind them. He was just one man.

One very, very angry man…

If Achmed had to describe Patch at that moment, it was as a man possessed by demons and giving them full reign. Another raider drew fire, and the hail of bullets was interrupted by sickening, ripping sounds as Logan tore open his jugular. Achmed did something he that would haunt him for the rest of his days, rushing up behind a boy holding a knife to the throat of the fruit stall salesman’s pregnant wife and ramming his head with the stock of an abandoned rifle. He slumped, giving Achmed the chance to tug his captive aside, screaming the whole way back into the tiny chapel where the community held its service, shooing her to safety before moving back outside. The boy was older than Achmed’s own son, perhaps some fifteen years, old enough to grow a beard. Achmed steeled himself, concentrating on the gall he felt at witnessing him threatening a woman with child. He hit him again with the rifle, and jerked him up by the back of his collar, using him as a shield when another thug fired on him. His body jerked and vibrated beneath the impact of the shells as he made his way to the next home reverberating with screams, and in the back of his mind he wondered where the bald foreigner with the strange accent had gone, praying he hadn’t met an ill fate.

I’m all right. Just busy.

Achmed couldn’t nail down why that voice in his head gave him odd comfort. He could only go where his ears took him, following myriad screams and knowing Charles was taking measures no less desperate than his.

He was cornered. The rough texture of baked mud paving the outside of the house scratched along his spine as he brandished a stray gun, knowing full well he couldn’t fire, not when a stray shell could kill one of the fleeing innocents if he missed.

“You don’t belong here,� he warned. “Don’t make me do this!�

A rumbling laughter bubbled from the mouth of the first youth, holding Charles at knifepoint. His chipped teeth leered at him, and a strange, ethereal fire glowed in his eyes. Charles blanched, seeing the same eerie aura surrounding the other two. They mocked him, and he was suddenly caught within the grip of memories long suppressed. Faces of his fellow officers and infantrymen lay twisted and blown away beyond description again, agony marring their features in death. The helplessness. The feeling of uselessness. Out of control. No control. It was happening again…

Rage colored his vision red. Not again. He closed his eyes and centered his focus on the three minds that swam within reach, and he lashed out with everything he had. Their screams filled the alley way, and he added his own to their gut-wrenching chorus as he burned and tore his way through their consciousness. Suddenly everything went black.

Agonizing seconds ticked by, but they felt like hours as he rose, not realizing he’d staggered to his knees. He stumbled over the lifeless shells, tripping over their boots and wondering when he’d lost his soul. He’d mourn them, he promised, and he’d mourn for himself.

Bodies. There were so many bodies. The ground grew sticky with blood mingling with the dust. He called out to Logan a moment before he dispatched another man pleading for his life, brandishing his claws. He cried out to him again, and he spun on Charles, fangs flashing and clenched, all humanity gone from his eyes. The sound he emitted was guttural and savage, a beast staring him down and uncontent until Charles showed his throat, something he couldn’t afford to do. He needed the gruff mercenary too much for what needed to be done.

“Come back, my friend. Think of Ororo,� he beckoned. Logan growled again, narrowing his eyes and resuming his grisly chore and planting his fist beneath the man’s jaw. His eyes were still bulging out of his head right before he extended his claws, puncturing his brain and sending blood spurting up from his skull in a macabre fountain before letting him drop.

“Don’t make me stop you.� Hell was breaking loose around him, but Charles was focusing on Logan now. He had to bring him back. Logan bared his teeth and stood like a sentinel, feet planted apart, but his concentration was broken as another young boy ran past, his rifle bobbing over his back. Logan yanked him back by the scruff of his neck and snarled at him, nearly showing him the whites of his eyes. He drew the boy up close, and Charles hurried forward this time, unwilling to hesitate any longer.

“NO!� Charles pushed himself between them, jerking the child out of his grasp and wrapping himself around him. “Don’t. You won’t.� The boy trembled in his grip; his body was gaunt from weeks of malnutrition, giving his face an even more haunted look. Even his hair seemed leeched of color, almost a steely, dusky silver.

“Quit fuckin’ around, Chuck,� he growled. “I ain’t finished with this little snot.�

“I think you are. He’s a child.�

“This is how they start. They grow up t’be scum like these,� he muttered, waving his arm at the broken men lying on the ground, some still gripping weapons.

“Feel his fear,� Charles intoned, and he took a risk, once again reaching into Logan’s mind, and forcing himself beneath the walls, opening a connection him and the child struggling in his arms. “See how he sees you!�

He was flooded with a tide of terror from the boy, and swam in his own self-loathing. He saw everything through his eyes, saw himself, covered in blood, hair standing on end like a wolf’s hackles. Savage. Not a man. Devilish. He recoiled with disgust.

“Shit,� he whispered, and Charles still heard him over the din of people running through the streets.

“He won’t hurt us,� Charles assured him. “And there’s more to him than meets the eye. He’s a victim, just like them.� He gestured to two small children peering outside through the crack between the curtains.

“M’just a boykie,� he moaned, as if confirming Charles’ words. “Don’ hurt me!�

“C’mon,� Logan barked, leading them both away, back toward the church while he searched for Achmed.

Ainet was mouthing prayers that felt foreign on her lips in the rearmost corner of her house, hiding herself and Ororo beneath a musty burlap tarp. Needlessly she covered Ororo’s mouth, hoping they wouldn’t be heard amidst the din from outside. They couldn’t find the girl. Not on her own life, Ainet vowed. Gunshots rang out, each one nearly making her heart stop, and clammy sweat ran down her back in their stifling space. The child was fighting her, merely for the sake of wanting out of such close, dark quarters, and it pained her that she couldn’t indulge her desire to emerge for one cool breath. She didn’t so much as whimper, but her stubby fingers dug impatiently into her flesh.

She knew Patch would be back. He always came back when he cared enough -

“Check the back!� a ragged voice boomed, and she heard scuffling footsteps cross her threshold as various items in her kitchen were overturned, her jar of preserves crashing to the floor as they rummaged for possible valuables, particularly her knives. She willed them to turn back and leave. Better to die than be found.

Heavy footsteps scraped the floor, drifting closer as the owner paused to scan the tiny space. Blood rushed in her ears and made her taste metal. She shrank back against the wall, compressing herself so firmly against it she knew she’d ache for days, if they made it. One of the interlopers found her cigarettes, pocketing them and announcing that he would look for more. She didn’t even fume.

An icy chill ran over her flesh when one of them announced “Look at this!� and two separate voices chortled and crowed in shrill tones over something purloined from her bedroom.

It was the second doll Ainet had packed in her satchel. She closed her eyes in defeat: Now they knew a child was staying in her house.

More crashing and general disregard for the sanctity of her home continued while she gritted her teeth. She hated herself for a moment, seething that these men might have even been clients at the Pearl, attended to by her own girls, and now it was coming back to her in ways she’d never fathomed, dangling her over gnashing teeth.

The burlap was whisked away, exposing them to the gaze of the large man in torn fatigues and filthy boots, his dark skin gleaming with sweat and standing in stark contrast with his bloodshot eyes. Ainet recognized the effects of narcotics and she knew whatever decency he possessed had been cured with the prick of a needle. He rocked back on his feet and whooped as his eyes landed on the tiny girl clutched in her embrace.

“C’mon, little lady, come out, come out wherever you are,� he leered, prying Ainet’s wrist roughly and laughing when she attempted to twist her way out of his grip. “Y’want to come with me, don’tcha girl?� I’ll meet you in hell if you try, you sonofabitch… Her muscles burned with the effort to hold onto Ororo, and his grip left her skin feeling burned and abraded as he jerked her savagely away from the wall, and venomous eyes spat at him even as he swung out and backhanded her across her jaw with a hollow crack. She fumbled feebly as Ororo was wrenched from her arms, and a guttural cry rose up from her throat as she reared up like a lioness, clawing at him and pouncing on his retreating back. She nearly stumbled over the doll in her haste, and he cursed and roared at the plunge of her teeth into his ear, talonlike fingernails clawing at his bald, vulnerable scalp.

A long, mean hunting knife clattered to the floor in the scuffle, and Ororo grimaced and cried out at the twisted look of anger and fear on Ainet’s face looming over the bad man’s shoulder, shrieking at him to let her go. Ororo was knocked free from him as Ainet succeeded in landing a blow across his nose. Ainet screamed until she was hoarse, and his companions merely called out encouragement from the kitchen as the finished the chore of looting her belongings, bundling everything into a small sack…

A bone-chilling growl sounded from the front door, a sign that they’d lingered too long on the wrong territory, and the leader of the pack had arrived to defend his den. He was fearsome and magnificent, eyes glowing a feral, fiery yellow and his hair standing up like quills. His chest expanded deeply and roughly as he sized them up.

“Ya wanna get the hell outta here now.� Ainet’s attacker didn’t heed him, choosing to finish what he’d started by flinging her against the wall. She landed hard and bit her tongue on the way down, where she sat dazed and stunned; a more permanent solution presented itself in the form of the pistol he’d holstered to his ankle. Ainet felt the cool metal cocked against her temple and held her breath. His companions had other immediate concerns and brandished rifles and the stolen knives, broadcasting false confidence over their safety in numbers. Logan didn’t even blink as his claws once more pushed their way through sinew and skin.

Blood sprayed the meager furnishings and mud walls of Ainet’s home and ragged cries echoed in her ears, but her fear was for the child, hating the carnage she had to witness at such a tender age. Even if she walked away without so much as a mark after that day, she’d still be scarred.

Her tormentor spoke through bloodstained teeth. “She’s worth more to you alive than me.�

“Damn straight; she’s worth more alive to me than you, too, pal.� His resolve never wavered, even at the faint click of the pistol being cocked. Ainet’s face was twisted in anguish, but her eyes held acceptance; she placed her fate in Logan’s hands.

“You won’t get to me fast enough with those.� He nodded at Logan’s claws. He ignored the faint flicker of movement behind him, but he saw the burly foreigner’s eyes widen in disbelief and something that looked like fear.

Burning, tearing pain stabbed its way through his back; the red-streaked, silver tip of his hunting knife protruded through his gut. His fingers lost their grip on the pistol, and Ainet yelped as she pried herself free from his arm, now slack, gulping in deep breaths no longer tinged by the liquor on his breath. He gazed down at the point of the blade incredulously, staring at Logan vacantly before he staggered against the wall, finally slumping to his knees. Ainet watched his lips silently plead with her before the light left his eyes. Her eyes darted to Ororo. She smothered a cry behind trembling fingers.

“Oh, my God,� she moaned before scooping her up and clutching her to her chest. Logan didn’t respond; only then did his breath seem to leave him.

Hesitant footsteps approached him from the doorway, and the scents told him there was no threat. Charles wore a look of resignation until he saw Ororo. Relief softened the set of his posture as he ventured forward with his tiny companion.

“Ainet, Achmed is at the church. He’s all right.� She nodded numbly, weeping and unwilling to let Ororo go. Her nose and lips were buried in her thick white hair, now faintly streaked with blood and dirt. “I have someone I think Ororo would like to see.� Logan grunted at the sight of the strange looking boy with the faded hair. He was still skittish, and he looked at Logan with a mixture of terror and shame as Charles led him into the storage space, but that was short-lived when he saw Ainet cradling the sister he’d nearly lost. He sobbed a keening, wailing cry and shook his head; Charles was struck by the depth of emotions rolling from him. He watched Ororo gently remove herself from Ainet’s grip. She stared at Japheth long and hard, measuring him silently.

“’Roro,� he murmured hoarsely, reaching for her.

She flung herself at him and hugged him with all her might, rocking him.

“Didn’t think I…had a hang of a chance!� he cried. “Missed you, girly-girl. M’sorry! M’sorry, ‘Roro!�

“Ororo big girl,� she insisted. Her eyes remained dry.

'Light of spirit, by my charms,
Light of body, every part,
Never weary human arms-
Only crush thy parents' heart!'

Eight years later:

Moira eased back in her tilting chair and removed her glasses, briskly rubbing her eyes with a sigh. She cleaned the lenses with a soft cloth before putting them back on, and she scanned her journal one last time to check her notations:

Japheth has made excellent progress since we received him at this facility, and he appears to have adjusted well to our way of life. He’s shy around new people, something to be expected as he attracts a lot of attention from the locals here at Kinross. He still manages to be lively and friendly despite what he’s been through, for which I’m grateful. I hope he continues to come out of his shell.

Nightmares continue to be a problem for Japheth. He left behind his siblings during his flight from the orphanage, whom have since been placed in new homes through international adoptions, something I could do nothing about when Japheth came with me. She sighed over that entry; Charles had been instrumental in helping her cut through all the red tape to take him out of the country. Moira and Charles were both named as Ororo’s legal guardians, and Japheth became her ward due to the circumstances he’d faced when he left the orphanage. Once Charles had revealed the boy’s living conditions - after a gentle probe of his mind - they were reluctant to take him back, feeling that his experiences and the cruelty he’d suffered would make him unmanageable. Moira scoffed at their reasoning; so many of the children there were acquired due to the same circumstances, yet they were reluctant to receive him back to their bosom.

Her teacup felt cold to the touch; she rose from her desk, kneading a sore kink in her shoulder before she tucked down to the kitchen to refresh it. She retrieved an elastic from the tiny cup of paper clips and other odds and end on the counter and pulled her hair back into its customary ponytail; silver strands now mingled with shiny chestnut brown, and she’d gained tiny lines at the corners of her eyes that gave her beauty more maturity and character.

She peered outside the kitchen window and watched Japheth playing on her lawn with Jamie, her housekeeper’s son, who was roughly the same age. He towered over Japheth, who was proving to be small for his age, despite Moira’s and his pediatrician’s efforts to supplement his diet. He’d thus far been diagnosed with “failure to thrive� and still suffered from the same unusual digestive complaints that necessitated his special protein meals at the orphanage. Mrs. Madrox was on something of a mission to “feed him up properly� and she often had a willing helper in the little boy, despite the initial conflict in their dialects, with Japheth’s colloquialisms and her own scratchy brogue. They were getting along thick as thieves.

She was due stateside for her visit with Charles on the thirteenth. Previous visits had proven both reassuring and frustrating. There had been little change.

Ororo was no longer catatonic. She was functioning and developing exceptionally well for a child her age, and she’d blossomed within the shelter of Charles’ spacious home, which he was still in the process of turning into a school. He’d installed an Olympic-sized pool and he still kept horses out in the paddock. His mother would have been proud, Moira mused, to see what he’d accomplished and how well he’d preserved her estate. Sharon lived and breathed the importance of a well-rounded education, no matter what your walk of life. Moira wondered what she would have thought of extending those same privileges to mutants. Mutants. The term still felt strange passing her lips, but it was as if a light went on when Charles first coined it.

She resumed her review of her journal, scribbling more notes in the margin. As an afterthought, she sketched a brief diagram of the scar she’d noticed on Japheth’s abdomen that his pede noticed during his physical, all the more remarkable since it appeared shortly after his belly grew somewhat distended. He was obstinate about giving her a response and she decided not to press. Mrs. Madrox had her eye on him every waking moment that Moira didn’t.

She clapped the journal shut and returned the binder to the bookshelf, locking up her desk drawer out of long habit. It was after four. It was time to visit Kevin.

She made her way to the elevator and punched the button for the sub-level. She hummed an old drinking song that had been a favorite of Charles’ and Erik’s on her way, comforted by the thrum of the car rumbling beneath her booted feet. She’d been cooped up inside all day, and she craved a ride on Biscuit, her favorite roan.

She mentally slapped herself; Kevin would feel no empathy for her notion of “cooped up.� It had been several years since he’d ridden in front of her, his slender little hands covering hers as she handled the reins.

She slid a key card coded with her identity signature into the slot. Moira and Eilish Madrox were the only two people who had access to the room; her maintenance staff were under strict instruction not to attempt to enter the laboratory unsupervised. The lights were already on, since they were scheduled to extinguish themselves after nine PM and to come back on again at 7AM. Full spectrum bulbs simulated daylight. Several small monitors were bolted to the ceiling, projecting different views of Kinross Keep, including the shoreline and craggy cliffs. The walls of the lab bore various comfort items, including posters of Eric Clapton and KISS, photo album sheets of baseball cards, and a pennant from a football match she’d taken Kevin to when he was seven. He’d never outgrown his action figure collection; several Stormtroopers and GI Joes decorated tiny shelves and her large pine desk.

He’d been in a creative mood; it was as though someone had brought a piece of the shore inside his chamber. Moira watched in characteristic awe as breaking waves crashed around him, wind seeming to ruffle his hair and clothing. She knew those weren’t real, but it was a more soothing scene than she’d expected.

“H’lo, luv,� she greeted him. He turned his head, or what passed for it, toward the sound of her voice.

“H’lo, Mum.�

“It’s beautiful.�

“I guess,� he shrugged. “It’s not the same.�

“Nay, luv. I know,� she agreed hollowly.

“Do ye really?� She swallowed and rubbed her nape.

“Kevin, I -“

“Save it. I’m bluidy tired of hearin’ the same from ye, Mum. I want out.�

“I want t’let ye out, Kevin. Ye know I kinna do that. Not yet.�

“How old am I, Mum?�

“Fifteen,� she replied, slightly puzzled. Her brow furrowed, and she felt unease trickle down her back.

“I dinnae know t’believe it when ye tell me that. It’s been bluidy forever. Ye hate me.�

“NAY! Kevin, I love ye so much, I want…I want…� She waved away the urge to break down but settled for covering her eyes for a moment, composing herself. “I never wanted this for ye, not for one minute.�

“Doesn’t matter what day it is anymore. I kinna tell the difference, Mum. It’s a big, bleedin’ joke. Makes ye feel mighty big, not having t’worry about me locked up in this big glass jar? Like one of yuir nasty pigs in a science class.� She sighed wearily; she’d tutored him from the moment she’d cajoled him into the containment field. He’d been younger then, and more willing to believe she’d had his best interests at heart. That Mummy would make it all better.

“I ken ye dinnae believe me when I tell ye I haven’t stopped trying to help ye, laddie. Yuir m’son. All I can do is try!�

“Ye never planned t’let me out. Yuir just like Dad.� She shook her head adamantly, but his accusation still stung.

“Nay. Never like yuir father. Yuir MY son now, Kevin. He kinna hurt ye anymore.�

“Yuir the one hurting me now, Mum.� Emotion clogged her throat.

“Kevin…here. Let me give ye some music, or I can turn on yuir favorite show. Eilish asked me to give ye this DVD.� She held up the slim case for him to inspect: Die Hard.

“Aye. That’s better’n coming out, Mum.� He pounded in another nail. “What have ye been up tae today? Did ye go outside?�

“Kevin…�

“Did ye? Talk t’Eilish? Give her little brat and that other queer wee one ye brought home from across the world a big hug? Sleep in a big, comfy bed upstairs?�

“Please, Kevin…�

“I hate this, and I damned well hate you. Dinnae tell me ye dinnae feel the same.� She forced her tears back down; he despised them, and she would grant him that one favor and any other she could spare.

“I love ye, Kevin. I’ll keep saying it til ye believe me.�

“Yuir wasting yuir breath. Maybe ye’ll lose yuir voice by then, or I’ll be dead. Then at least one of us will be happy, Mum.� She watched the environment he’d created inside the containment chamber change slowly, the “sky� darkening menacingly and thick storm clouds rolling over the waves, now more choppy and turbulent.

He was still her wee bairn. Her arms were empty, just like the hollow space when her family was taken away from her. She didn’t miss Joe; she never would, but she’d never gotten over the lie he’d tempted her with when he said he loved her. She’d craved family; it was the curse of the only child to have no one left when her parents died too soon. He’s my SON. She’d railed at God more nights than she could remember.

He was supposed to be gifted, she thought sourly. Let him know how to fly, or walk through walls.

His last contact with the outside world was a disaster. One moment, he’d been watching telly and playing with his toys on the rug. She’d been fixing his lunch. Joe had just come home, tugging off his coat and flinging it onto the chair…

She still felt the phantom crack of his hand against her jaw when she closed her eyes. Heard him rail at her, accusing her of horrible things. Telling her she was nothing. Kevin cried out, but she’d told him to go to his room. He was stubborn, just like her. He was there on slender, shaking legs, throwing himself at Joe from behind and striking with hard, tiny fists while his father hit her again. She spat out blood and her eyes swam, but she maintained her focus. She had to get herself and Kevin outside, just long enough for someone to see…

Joe’s face went slack, and he roared out in pain as his features twisted before her eyes, as though someone were crushing a ball of wax. She screamed, her voice mingling with Kevin’s wail as he collapsed, his entire body seeming to glow with blinding light before it wavered and was extinguished. Smoke rose from his corpse, now mangled and grimacing back up at her, still accusing her: You did this, Moira. You let this happen to me.

She didn’t give it a second thought. She picked up Kevin, not giving a damn about the possible consequences, and she ran.

The constabulary and the medics pronounced his death unsolvable. There were no signs of a struggle. No blood. No scorch marks on any of the surrounding walls or furnishings. Reverend Craig performed the duty of visitation, peering with blunt interest at Kevin as he played with his toys. Ancient looking eyes stared back at him, glowing with an odd light. He’d cut his visit short and reminded her to pray for guidance in her time of need. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary anymore, now that Joe was gone.

She never wanted another child to know that fear again. Kevin never should have witnessed her helplessness. Some small, miserable voice inside her tried to convince her that he hated her for it.

“Then I’ll just turn blue trying tae, luv. I’m stubborn that way.� She laid the movie case on the table and turned on the television at her lab table. “Doctor Who� had just begun and Kevin eyed the screen with interest, even though he didn’t thank her. He’d grown a bit over the past few weeks. Eilish always reassured her that he took more after her than Joe, who had eyes as black as coal and hair to match. David’s eyes were a soft robin’s egg blue. He could change them at will, but he inevitably reverted to his default template, which was striking enough. He always glowed, Moira mused. She only convinced herself that he was real whenever he spoke. Anyone else looking at him would think he was made of nothing but light. He shimmered whenever he moved, shifting in and out of reality, almost seeming to flicker. Sometimes he was older looking, the idealized man he wanted to be, and at other times he was still the child she’d run with for dear life, confused and scared, wondering why she’d locked him away and taken away the light.

She worked downstairs for a while and tried to make small talk with him, but he waved her away, trying to act absorbed in his program. She finally bid him goodnight; he muttered a brief “g’night, Mum� before the door swung shut after her and the security locks slid into place.


~0~


Logan still sniffed around for Vic out of habit. Every morning. Every night. Every time he was alone.

Ainet and Achmed weren’t any better, always looking behind themselves. Logan warned them that they were walking around looking guilty, or just plain spooked.

Ainet often plied him with favors. She didn’t act rebuffed when he refused. Her girls didn’t hold much appeal for him anymore, and they seldom had before. More nights than not, Logan and Ainet blew a pungent cloud on her front step, her hand-rolled cigarettes and his Cubans. She abused him goodnaturedly when he told her she needed to settle down; he merely growled when she called him a big softie.

He’d become the village’s savior and watchdog. If anyone’d told him years ago that this was where he’d end up, he’d have told them they were full of shit. Folks were still scared every time he said so much as “boo.� Achmed’s urchins still peeked around the corner of Ainet’s windows for a glimpse of him, tempting the wrath of the Boogey Man.

He still thought about the girl with the luminous eyes and white hair. He saw her every time he looked into any of the local kids’ eyes in passing, when he was down at the well or off at the market.

He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. He helped whenever the frame for a house was raised or when a roof needed repair. He was the silent, brooding watchdog; news of his sojourn among them traveled far and wide. Farouk’s name was seldom whispered anymore, but the Wolverine was still on everyone’s lips as one not to be trifled with.

He wasn’t deluding himself. He knew Vic was still out there.


~0~



Farouk smiled. He was nothing if not a patient man…

Charles walked by the guest room in the west wing for about the fifth time that day, prompting his housekeeper to scowl at him.

“Please stop pacing, Charles,� she nagged, flicking her cleaning rag at him as she stepped out into the hall. “Everything will be ready by the time Dr. Mactaggart arrives.� She gestured around the spanking clean boudoir confidently. “Not one thing in this room has moved an inch out of place!�

“And it’s lovely,� he admitted, embarrassed. “Thank you, Stevie.�

“Pfft. No biggie. We’ll whip this place into shape,� she assured him, as though it were a paltry undertaking. The mansion was enormous, and Stevie was one of a half a dozen members of his staff he retained to keep things running.

He’d met Stephanie Hunter during a seminar on neurophysics that she’d attended while she was employed with Stark Industries, accompanying her fiancée, James Rhodes. James was attending in Anthony Stark’s stead while he was overseas. He realized where he recognized her from after she introduced herself and explained she’d lived in New York for most of her life and that she’d done some dancing.

He’d been enthralled when he watched her perform in the New York City Ballet five years prior. She grinned sheepishly when he stammered out glowing praise for her appearance in Swan Lake. He tried not to stare when he noticed an odd shift in her gait as they walked into the lounge together. She explained briefly that her neurologist was also attending the seminar on pain management, and that she’d benefited from some of the breakthroughs in palliative treatment since her accident. They’d used six pins to reconstruct her leg when it was shattered, her tiny Saab totaled when she slid over the slick roads.

She fell in love with Ororo from the moment she’d met the introverted teenager, and she was determined to break through her shell. Stevie was all sass and hell on wheels. And Ororo was a handful.

The answer to every question was frequently another question. She lacked both fear and shame. Stevie couldn’t count how many times she’d had to shoo her back indoors to change clothes…or even to put any on. First she’d marked it up to the blithe adolescent tendency to want to impress her peers, i.e., “if you’ve got it, flaunt it.� Except she hardly had any peers to impress, Stevie reasoned, and in this case, “flaunting it� included random excursions to the lake and the pool to swim in the altogether.

“ORORO MUNROE!� This time Stevie was inside the greenhouse with Phillip Ramsey, Charles’ gardener and groundsman, asking him to clip her some fresh basil and rosemary to take to his chef. She flung down her tiny basket on the picnic table and ran outside, fuming the whole way. Phillip stared after her until he caught sight of what startled her, and he nearly choked.

“Daddy, why did Ms. Hunter run - HEY!� His son Douglas cried out in protest and confusion when his father hastily clapped his hand over his eyes. He was only five, but he was a precocious five, Phillip reasoned. No need to give him an eyeful… he urged his son to help him harvest the tomato plants and averted his own eyes.

“Don’t think for a minute, little girl, that I’m above snatching ya baldheaded!� Stevie screeched, stalking and huffing her way to the pool!� Stevie was petite at five feet, four inches, and her bark was every bit as bad as her bite. Ororo wasn’t the least bit sheepish as she rose from the pool, confirming Stevie’s suspicions. She whisked off her apron and threw it over Ororo’s head, ignoring her dripping hair caught beneath the neck strap. “It’s the middle of the day! BROAD daylight, and I catch you out here without a stitch on! Even if I’d done something like that when I was HALF your age, my mother would have fanned me, and I wouldn’t have sat down for a week!�

“I don’t have a mother to fan me,� Ororo shrugged. As usual, her voice wasn’t angry, or even sour. Just matter of fact.

Not so much as a goosebump, Stevie mused. The child never got cold, and never CAUGHT cold. She was grateful for such a neat trick. She’d nagged herself hoarse, trying to talk some sense into Charles’ ward every winter, hauling her back into the house when snow was piled all the way up to the porch, and she called herself ready to go in shirt sleeves, jeans and shoes.

“Well, you’ve got me,� Stevie reminded her, and despite what she felt was a glare that could penetrate steel, Ororo gave her a serene smile. That smile was only slightly less provocative of her ire than patting her on the head, something else the girl could easily accomplish, since at thirteen, she already stood at least five foot eight. Precocious, self-possessed, and overdeveloped: Three things that didn’t belong together and that kept Stevie’s hands full. “Shower. Hair. Clothes. Then march straight into Charles’ office, young lady.�

“All right,� she agreed, and once again, she didn’t pout, scowl or stomp. Stevie was ready to tear out her hair…or, as she’d threatened earlier, to snatch out Ororo’s. Scamp…

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Nothing bothered her.

Scratch that, she amended. A trip to the Salem Springs Shopping Center yielded an odd revelation, as well as ruined an otherwise perfect day. Ororo wasn’t as avid a shopper at her age as some of her peers (and again, she hadn’t many peers to encourage that habit, for which Stevie was also somewhat grateful), so it was relatively effortless to take her to the store. No nagging about styles Stevie picked, no haranguing about trying things on or protests of “this makes my butt look too big.� Piece of cake.

Until they reached the subway tunnel. Ororo dragged her feet to a stop, practically jerking Stevie’s arm off as they wended their way through the crowd. When Stevie turned to ask what was wrong, she was chilled by the look of terror on her face. Her lips were a tight line, and she breathed rapidly through her nose, nearly hyperventilating and turning slightly pale.

“C’mon, girl, let’s get cracking, we’re gonna miss the red line!�

“No,� she whimpered, and her voice was a departure from its usually mature, deep alto. She shook her head emphatically, long white braid swaying.

“Ororo, we’re not going to make it, we need to get you some new things!�

“I can’t,� she insisted. “I won’t.�

“Ororo…look, it’s not as quick if we take a bus, and not as cheap if we take a cab!�

“It’s dark. Small,� she continued, and her words sounded clipped. “Cold.�

“Honey, you don’t get cold,� Stevie reminded her soothingly, rubbing her elbow. “Come on, you’re with me…�

“I WON’T!� she shrieked, and Stevie peered wildly around them at the people staring at her as she tried to calm her. Ororo was conspicuous enough, but she usually never tried to draw attention to herself. Today was the exception; I’m smaller than she is, Stevie reasoned. No one’ll believe I’m trying to kidnap her, for goodness sake.

She gave up, but she was shocked and concerned at how icy cold Ororo’s hands were when she gripped them.

“Bus?� Stevie offered. Ororo nodded, swallowing and fanning herself reflexively, trying to breathe.

And just like that, as Stevie dug out the change from her trench coat pocket, Ororo was fine. Cool hand Luke once more, even though she flinched slightly at the close quarters of the bus.

So, there they were. Stevie muttered under her breath the rest of the way inside the house as she watched Ororo trek in through the kitchen door, her underpants transparent after she hastily struggled into them while she was still soaking wet.

She planned to give Charles an earful.

Seven years later:



“That’s strange,� Eilish muttered. “Moira, have ye seen me knitting basket?� Moira looked up from her newspaper and stared at her quizzically.

“Nay. It’s gone missing?�

“Aye, that and a Harlequin novel that I never finished,� she hmphed, throwing up her hands. “This house swallows up m’belongings every time I turn around.� She was on her way back to the kitchen to turn it upside down in her search when Moira’s voice stopped her.

“Have ye seen Japheth?�

“Och, it’s been two hours since the lad’s head popped up from his usual hiding places, ma’am. The laddie’s making himself scarce.� Her face was worried. “And his appetite’s scarce, too. He’s a growing lad…but he’s awfully thin. He seldom touches his food. I’ve made his favorites,� she reasoned.

“I dinna doubt that ye have, Eilish,� Moira soothed as she rose from her armchair. “He’s still taking that special protein drink that they prescribed for him at the orphanage?�

“Not as much as before. Seems to turn his stomach.� Moira made a thoughtful sound before she left the study. As she passed the entryway, she noticed a large potted palm that she’d planted in a blue ceramic tureen was missing; crumbs of dark potting soil spotted the hardwood floor.

“Och…perhaps Eilish was right. Bluidy hell!� She thought better of looking for Japheth inside the house and strode outside.

Japheth woke from a doze, squinting as he rubbed grit and sand from his eyes. The waves crashed against the jetty along the shore, telling him he’d slept past low tide.

As he reached for his flannel beach blanket, shaking it out and doubling it into a neat roll, he had the same odd feeling of satiety that he’d experienced over the past three weeks, despite meager nourishment that he took at Moira’s table. He couldn’t explain it; Japheth was used to being teased by the children at the orphanage. They called him puny, pointing at his distended stomach and bony limbs, roughly scrubbing his silver hair with their fists. Yet somehow, he’d grown, shooting up six inches almost overnight. Moira was equally baffled by his sudden spurt in size, leaving Eilish to grumble that they’d need to make another trip into town to outfit him properly, scowling at his highwater pants cuffs and tight shirts.

Eilish had been after him and her son, Jamie, more often than usual, too. It was an easy enough conclusion, since the two of them were thick as thieves and partners in crime. Nothing lacked appeal for them; from sneaking Moira’s horses out of the paddock to ride the trails behind the keep after dark, pillows stuffed under the bedsheets to hide their flight, to running off with Moira’s lingerie catalogs to admire the models pouting out from glossy pages, feeding their fantasies. Moira huffed that they were “bluidy well old enough tae know better…�

The trouble with scolding Jamie was that she never knew which one of them she was talking to. His mutation had lain dormant until he was fifteen; Eilish had smacked him sharply upside the back of his head when he’d stolen one of her oatmeal cookies from a tray she was serving to Moira’s colleagues. He dropped it…and a hand identical to his reached for it and picked it up, obeying the five second rule and cramming it into a mouth that looked like his, too. A mirror image of himself stared aghast at him, mimicking his own expression down to his eyebrows, shaped like question marks.

Eilish Madrox fainted before either Jamie could catch her.

In the meantime, they were quite a pair, both in their twenties and a favorite subject of gossip when they frequented the tavern down the road. Reverend Craig had a great deal more gray in his brown hair but had lost none of his piety over the years, ruling over his presbytery with an iron fist.

“No good will come of those two lads, being raised by that sinful woman,’ he swore. His adoptive daughter peered up at him from her textbook before he scowled at her to resume her studies. She stuck out her tongue when his back was turned, ducking her titian red head when his gaze swung her way again. Rahne found Jamie and Japheth intriguing, Japheth in particular, with his odd looks and lyrical speech. The Reverend was determined to guide his ward onto the straight and narrow path by avoiding such corruptive influences as Moira MacTaggert.

And so it continued, life in sleepy Kinross Keep, as Moira continued to keep Charles abreast of the developments with the boys. She still found Charles’ label of “mutant� extreme, but appropriate.

In the meantime, Japheth was late for a supper he knew he wouldn’t eat. He adored Mrs. Madrox, but he knew he frustrated her no end. He whistled on his way back from the shore, wiggling his feet to free his sandals of the gritty sand.

He decided another nap might be good, too. He was so knackered lately. Before he could go inside to change his clothes, Moira accosted him while she was probing the leaves of her red begonias out front, tsking at their brown edges and reaching for a water pot.

“Japh, have ye seen me houseplant from the front hall?�

“Nope,� he shrugged, but she didn’t look convinced. “S’true Bob, I don’t know where it got off to.�

“Looks like someone made off with my ficus in a bleedin’ hurry,� she accused, and her green eyes danced. She, too, could play this game.

“Keepin’ m’eye out for it, then,� Japheth promised, secretly wondering if Jamie had been the culprit. Even if not, at least he had someone to blame.

“Go upstairs and change,� she ordered curtly. “It should turn up.� His long feet tramped up the stairs, trailing sandy grit behind him.

Japheth rifled through the hangers in his closet, scrabbling for his black pants when a strange pain seized him in the abdomen. He reflexively clutched it, trying to rub the discomfort away when he felt a strange ripple in his flesh.

“Unngh,� he grunted, feeling sweat break out across his flesh. He was unnerved by the sensation of something moving beneath his skin! The more he tried to push it back down and quiet it, the more the…lumps…seemed to push back against his hand. The strange scar he’d had on his belly for the past few years even seemed to pulse. His clothes felt stifling; he sat on the bed weakly and unbuttoned his shirt, jerking it off.

The long scar erupted, splitting neatly down the seam as it opened through every layer of his skin, allowing two fist-sized creatures to slither out, leaving a slimy trail of clear fluids over his waistband before dropping to the floor.

“Moira,� he whispered. “Moira,� he muttered, slightly louder as his eyes pinned themselves to the two creatures, busily snuffling along the carpet and flicking short, scaly tails back and forth. Glowing red eyes stared back at him, as though they, too, were awaiting his response to their appearance.

“MOIRA!� His shout sent them skittering off into his closet. His entire body shuddered, and he collapsed weakly onto the bed, spent.

One of the creatures contented itself with dispatching one of his sandals, munching enthusiastically on the brown leather.


~0~


Westchester:


“Tell me about the dreams.�

“I can’t. Too dark.� Charles sighed as he retracted his ballpoint pen tip and laid the utensil down on his blotter.

“Wouldn’t you try for me, Ororo? Just to humor this old man?�

“You’re not that old,� she pointed out, ignoring his gaze and focusing on the large, two-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle that he had on his cherrywood table. “Older than me,� she amended. He smiled into his teacup as he took a drink.

Nothing had changed. The wall she’d built around her emotions was just as unyielding as the one around her subconscious. He hadn’t managed to breach it since bringing her stateside fifteen years ago. Charles could only read her surface thoughts, and only when she reached out to him first. She puzzled him.

And she was putting together the one in front of her with little effort. One of the first things he’d noticed about her was her gift for recognizing and decoding patterns, no matter how intricate. She loved tedious things – or at least spent immeasurable time with them – and she gave anything that interested her undivided attention, to the extent of being oblivious to anything else. She only learned what she wanted and acknowledged things whenever she pleased. Yet she was serene and undemanding. On some level, Charles and Stevie felt that their former charge returned the love they gave her. That would certainly explain why she chose to stay at the school.

Moira kept her invitation open for her to come live at Kinross, despite the townspeople’s reactions to Japheth and Jamie. Ororo’s adoptive mother found herself straddling two continents, and Japheth was her frequent traveling companion. Both of them craved time outdoors and various sports. There wasn’t any activity she wouldn’t try at Japheth’s urging, and she frequently beat him at his favorites, such as football.

Over time, the school had gained new residents with different needs. Ororo was a mystery to them all, both an object of admiration and fear. Douglas Ramsey worshipped the ground she walked on, when she walked.

No one expected her to learn how to fly.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your classes.�

“I like them,� she said simply, fitting two border pieces together without thinking about it.

“You seem a bit bored.�

“Did I do something wrong?�

“On the contrary. Your transcripts are impressive, Ororo, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your little ‘jaunts’ that Stevie’s been telling me about.� Her hands stilled as she was about to reach for another piece. She turned her face around just enough to show him her profile as she spoke over her shoulder.

“I get my work done when I’m supposed to. I like having time to myself.�

“We live on a generous estate, young lady, but we aren’t an island unto ourselves. We have neighbors, albeit remote ones, but they might talk if they catch sight of a woman floating through the air…�

“Who cares if they catch sight of me? I can simply fly away,� she pointed out.

“Birds fly. Planes fly. Both can be shot down to the ground.� She rose from the table and faced him. Her blue eyes were still untroubled and calm, which unsettled him.

“Don’t worry. I’m not. And I’m not afraid of guns.�

“I know, child.� That, among many things, worried him. “You’re distinctive, and therefore memorable. Keep that in mind when you indulge in flamboyant, bold behavior, Ororo, for the sake of the school. Speaking of which, I have a proposition for you.�

“Name it.� She folded her arms in challenge, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lush mouth.

“You’ve thrived in the accelerated honors program and you have a unique way of commanding the attention and respect of the children here,� Charles informed her. “I’d like to offer you the chance to teach the younger students as part of your post-graduate studies. You could handle at least two academic classes concurrently with your campus workload and use it toward your teaching hours for your credential.� She cocked an eyebrow. “You certainly wouldn’t be bored.�

“Just academics?� She retreated to the velvet upholstered chaise and fingered the leaves of a potted fern thoughtfully.

“You had something else in mind?�

“You don’t often get telepaths here,� she commented wryly. “You’re best suited for helping them to control their abilities, Professor.� He didn’t protest the title. Moira enjoyed the privilege of being called “Mum� and that pleased her no end.

“Meaning?�

“Some of the children who come here may need to learn how to fly.� She faced him, and he watched her luminous eyes cloud over, blinding radiance swirling in their depths until her irises disappeared; they glowed white and her entire face turned into a haunting, ethereal mask. The sky outside suddenly changed from cloudless blue to a milky, overcast gray, and a low wind stirred the trees. “Or to make it rain.�

“You’re unique,� he reminded her again. “I’ve found no documented individuals with your special gifts.�

“You haven’t really looked.� Thunder rolled in the distance. “I can help you, Professor.�

“Teaching’s a rewarding occupation, Ororo, but it’s also difficult, and emotionally challenging.�

“I’m not afraid,� she replied, and with a cavalier wave of her hand, she gathered back the building storm outside, returning it to a picnic-perfect day. Her eyes glimmered and slowly reverted to their customary blue. She tugged back her fall of thick, wavy hair from her face and knotted it into a ponytail before she stood to leave; Charles took that as her cue that she was going riding, and possibly for a brief flight.

“I know you’re not, Ororo.� She crossed the room and kissed him on the cheek, then impertinently patted him on the head. When the door closed behind her, his smile faded.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.�

Minutes later, Ororo was tearing out of the paddock on Amelia, Charles’ favorite dappled mare, reveling in the brisk wind whipping her hair behind her like a banner. Only then did a crack of laughter explode from her chest. She seldom laughed, adding to the mountain of personality quirks that often alienated her from her peers. Amelia’s muscles rippled seductively beneath her, urging her to adapt her body’s motions and cadence until they were in perfect sync. Ororo gave the mare her head, and they galloped perilously fast down the thickly wooded forest path. Stevie would’ve had a coronary…

Behind her, a lavish Bentley was pulling into the circular driveway, and she was heedless of its quiet engine or the muted slam of the door.

“We’re here, honey,� her mother’s lilting voice assured her as their heels clip-clopped over the pavement and the veranda. Her slender hand reached up and clutched the brass loop of a door knocker shaped like a lion’s head, and she rapped it sharply against the oak door. Mere seconds later the door opened with a swish, and an attractive, petite woman with skin like maple syrup and neat, dark brown cornrows smiled and extended her hand.

“Hi, I’m Stevie, one of Professor Xavier’s assistants,� she greeted. “You’re Jean,� she declared.

“I am.� She shook her hand warmly. “This is my mother, Elaine Grey.� She was a handsome woman of middle years, strawberry blonde and slightly shorter than her daughter. Her good looks indicated how Jean would look in twenty years.

“He said you’d just arrived, and that you were thirsty. I was in the middle of making some lemonade. Come in.� Elaine looked surprised.

“Where is the Professor?� And how did he know we were thirsty?

“In his study on the second floor,� Stevie informed them cheerfully. “Make yourselves at home!�

They were soon ensconced in the well-appointed study, sipping their drinks and helping themselves to Finnish gingersnaps.

“I’m glad you could enroll Jean in your academy, Charles…can I call you Charles?�

“Just don’t call me late for dinner,� he offered. She chuckled and wiped the sugar crystals speckling her fingers on a dainty cocktail napkin. “We’re glad to welcome Jean to the school so she may learn with us.�

“Some of the other finishing schools we’ve toured didn’t have as comprehensive a curriculum.�

“I assure you, Jean, you won’t lack challenges or a well-rounded education here.�

And you’re among friends. Jean’s look was incredulous before she beamed.

I don’t doubt that. Thank you. Elaine pondered the look exchanged between them and took another sip of her lemonade.

“My husband used to teach at Bard.�

“Perhaps he can come with you on your next visit! Does he play chess?�

“No. He lives and breathes chess and old, moldy books.�

“I’ve no shortage of old, moldy books,� he gestured, drawing her attention to the enormous bookshelves of hardcover tomes.

“I’ll let you get settled in,� Elaine decided, rising from her seat and setting her plate on the side table. She bent and kissed her daughter’s cheek warmly. Jean and Charles escorted her out. Jean waved from the veranda until the car was out of sight before she spoke.

“It seems odd, knowing there are others like me,� she explained. Blonde highlights danced in her coppery red hair, and she brushed a wisp of it back when it blew over her lips.

“You aren’t alone. And I want you to feel welcome here.

“My mom doesn’t quite understand what I can do.�

“You’ll be surprised when you find that you might not yet, either, Jean.� He heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats moving in a rolling canter over the grounds. Jean’s gaze followed his as he watched the thoroughly disheveled young woman astride a dapple gray making her way through the paddock.

“That’s not the only thing surprising me,� she murmured. “Wow.�

“That was Stevie’s first impression on meeting Ororo.�

“Cool name.�

“It suits her. She hails from Kenya, but she was living in Cairo when she came to us. Moira and I adopted her.�

“Where’s Moira?�

“Kinross Keep. We had a unique custody arrangement that is moot, now that Ororo’s grown.�

“So she’s basically here for finishing school?�

“Hardly.� His hand was warm at her back, urging her off the veranda. “And for the record, neither are you. Let’s go say hello.� She felt a frisson of excitement in her gut, and her steps quickened as they headed for the stables.

Ororo was leading Amelia into her stable and had just picked up a currying brush when she heard them approach. A thick layer of dust coated her jeans, and she looked as lathered as the horse, perspiration making her caramel skin gleam. There were bits of leaves in her hair and clinging to her plain white tee shirt. Tourmaline blue eyes twinkled back at Jean as introductions were made.

“I’m Jean.�

“Your room’s right below mine,� she replied without preamble. “You look about my age.�

“My birthday’s in June.�

“I don’t know when my birthday is.� Her tone was earnest, but her face belied nothing of how she felt about this.

“Then let’s make it in June, too.�

“Professor, I’m taking Jean inside so she can unpack.� Charles’s smile was amused as Ororo reached out and took Jean’s hand and guided her back to the house as ably as she had the mare. They were a study in contrasts. Jean was medium height with a petite figure and built like a dancer. Her skin was peaches and cream with no freckles, and her eyes were moss green. Her features were wholesomely beautiful, and she looked like she stepped out of a Colgate ad. Ororo now stood six feet tall in her socks when she ever wore socks, and her body, while athletic, was more voluptuous. Her white hair was tousled and gleamed in the sunlight. Jean waved helplessly back at him over her shoulder and fell into step with the woman who would prove to be her lifelong friend and surrogate sister.


~0~


Cairo:


Logan’s senses were overwhelmed by the odors of smoke, dust and blood staining the sand, but he still picked out one odor in particular. Pungent and musky, mingled with stale liquor.

Victor.

He was always just one step ahead of him, leaving bodies and ruined villages in his wake like a trail of friggin’ bread crumbs. He almost always left a message. This time the fucker picked a dilapidated church, one of the only shelters the township had to its name, previously unviolated. Blood streaked the cracked white paint, still dripping and smeared as though someone had formed the crude letters with fingers and claws.

I see you, runt. Don’t fuck with Farouk.

The bloat was reaching out beyond the grave, and Creed was still his puppet. Even if he took Vic out, it wouldn’t end there.

Logan’s sleep was more troubled than before; each time he succumbed to its pull, he was plunged into hell. He lived the last moments of each of Victor’s kills. He felt it in his bones. Faces both young and old cried out, their visages twisted in agony, blood dripping from their fingers as they accused him of deserting them.

He heard Farouk’s sinister laughter through the clouds of billowing smoke. Taunting him. Dragging him inside the maelstrom of emotions and final thoughts of each victim. He knew ages and names. Family relationships and daily rituals. Religious beliefs. Fears. Joys. But fear most of all.

He tapped into Victor’s emotions as well, as reluctantly as a condemned man. His savagery and blood lust bit at him with jagged, tearing teeth. He felt his smugness even as he lingered out of his reach.

Even in death, Farouk had his connections. Logan never lingered in one place for long, always following the reports of the locals when a village was in the path of poachers and mercs. He became a legend over the course of a decade, known for making few friends but for protecting any who respected him. They labeled him the lone wolf.

They called Victor “Sabertooth.�

He still frequented Ainet’s place and kept close tabs on Achmed, ensuring that his urchins kept curfew, even though he didn’t police their activities during daylight hours. They still watched him through windows and scurried off to evade his hard black eyes. They didn’t linger long enough to hear him chuckling under his breath. Unlike the Logan of old, he almost liked them.

The rest of his day and most of his night found him helping to identify and bury the dead. Wails filled the air and made the air feel more oppressive with each scrape of his shovel in the hard-packed soil. Each grave would be marked. Each soul would be remembered.

He still felt as though he was being watched. Glowing yellow eyes followed him into his dreams. The feeling never left him when he finally climbed into his dilapidated truck. His muscles were sore; the bumpy road beneath him nearly made his teeth clack together. He craved beer and one of his Cubans once he washed off the grit. Sweat stung his dry, cracked lips.

The liquor never dulled the pain. It was a bandage laid over a mortal wound.

He parked his truck outside the tiny vendor’s shack and lumbered inside. The smell of ripe fruit and mercantile supplies greeted him. He began to head toward the back until a familiar voice called his name.

“Something came for you in the post.� He selected a six-pack of the local brew and a packet of beef jerky.

“Ain’t anybody that’d send me anything.�

“It has your name on it,� the clerk shrugged before handing him a thick, cream-colored envelope. Logan wiped his soiled fingers on his khaki pants before taking it, but they left smudges on the pristine stock despite his efforts. The handwriting was unfamiliar but neat, the exaggerated slant indicating the sender was male. He fished out a roll of bills from his pocket and passed them over the counter.

“Don’t tell anyone ya gave this ta me,� he muttered before taking his leave.

Ainet’s was his last stop. He wasn’t looking forward to her cursing over his condition and would likely make him clean himself on the front porch before coming inside. Wary glances from passerby told him he looked like hell.

She was already asleep by the time he slipped inside, leaving his boots by the door. Achmed’s shoes outside her bedroom door almost tripped him as he stopped to check on her, and he heard two snores behind her door instead of one; Logan grinned in the dark. He helped himself to a piece of leftover chicken from a foil-covered dish on the table before stepping back out into her front room. He lit a small lantern and retired to the lumpy, threadbare armchair, and he slashed open the envelope with a flick of his claw.

His eyes scanned the first few lines before it dawned on him who was writing the letter, slowing to a stop at “Ororo.� He waited until he finished reading, and with numb fingers he shook the envelope upside-down into his lap. A plane ticket to New York stared back up at him.

There she was, swimming like a swan. Nor would she come out for king or queen, chancellor or daughter.




“Shit. Place is big,� Logan muttered under his breath as he climbed out of the shuttle van. He was heedless of the low slam of the trunk as the driver retrieved his satchel and deposited it on the ground beside him.

“That gonna be all, pal?�

“Yep. Here.� Logan fished a wad of bills from his battered leather wallet and tucked it into his waiting palm.

“Thank you. Enjoy your trip.�

“We’ll see ‘bout that,� Logan replied under his breath as the engine roared to life. He lingered outside for several long minutes even as the van disappeared.

The entire estate screamed money. The bald guy, Logan decided, wasn’t like any other soldier he’d met before. Then again, he’d made that plain the moment they met. He shook his head wryly at the memory as he dug in his pocket for a cigar. The sun had descended in the sky, but the air was still warm. His jacket felt stuffy and uncomfortably stiff.

Being stateside again threw him into culture shock. No more gravel roads and dust, no more shanties and surplus stores where you had to walk across town, or even ride to the next village, to get your mail. The noise thrum and clackety-clack of the trains still filled his ears. He blamed his enhanced hearing and too little sleep within the confines of the plane for that. His mouth was dry and still held the murky aftertaste of the most miserable excuse for a turkey sandwich he’d wolfed down in-flight.

Logan stretched and reached into his jacket pockets, searching for his Cubans and Zippo. He seated himself on the brick steps and watched lazy clouds gambol and roll overhead, teasing him with the promise of rain. He could almost taste it. He removed his battered Stetson and felt his hair slowly spring back to life, thankful for the cool air kissing his sweaty skin.

He’d no sooner sucked in the first gulp of slow, silky poison and blew a neat row of rings when the heavy oak door’s lock clicked behind him. He didn’t turn immediately at the hinge’s squeal.

“Oh! Goodness, I didn’t even know anyone was out here,� a young, lilting voice informed him. He rose and silently cursed the stiffness in his joints, almost irritated at having his solitude disturbed.

It was time to face the music.

“Miss. Name’s Logan.� He wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Wide-set, thickly lashed eyes of bottle green stared back at him; their owner cleared her throat and reflexively smoothed a lock of titian hair behind her ear. She was slender and dewy. Barely legal, he admitted dryly.

“I know. The Professor said he was expecting you.� Her stance and gestures screamed that she wasn’t.

No one could blame her for being caught speechless, she reasoned, if they were standing in her shoes, before this man. Wild. Rough. Brash. Even though the faint smile tickling the corners of his mouth spoke of someone contemplative, even analytical, his eyes…she couldn’t describe them. Not easily.

The irises were a fathomless, intense black; his pupils were barely visible. Craggy, heavy black brows crowned them and made that face more imposing. She wouldn’t have known by first glance how laughter would soften his face and reveal all his secrets.

The stranger might as well have been Fort Knox.

“Ya gonna let me in, Cupcake? Or did ya expect me ta camp out on the front lawn? Don’t get me wrong, it ain’t any worse than my last digs, but I ain’t opposed ta bein’ under a roof. An’ runnin’ water might be nice.� He’d guessed right; her expression revealed that she thought he needed the latter very, very badly. Even so, her sheepish smile brought out dimples and illuminated her face.

“Sure I can’t interest you in the stables? Charles’ horses eat pretty good,� she offered.

All right, he amended, he hadn’t expected that.

He was already reaching for his bag and hat as she announced “Come in. Stevie’s waiting for you in the sitting room.�

“Sitting room,� he muttered. “Can’t ya sit in any of ‘em? Never knew what the friggin’ point was of that shit.�

“You’ll have to put that out.� She gestured to his cigar, wrinkling her pert nose.

“Fine by me; be cruel, an’ deny a man his smokes.�

SNIKT. He juggled his bag and extended a lone claw to efficiently trim off the still burning end. The ashes landed on the brick, which he casually ground into it with his boot heel.

When he looked up to meet her gaze, she was staring at him like a guppy. “What?� he griped innocently. “Didn’t smell that bad.�

“But…it…your hand…oh, my God!�

SNAKT. He rubbed his knuckles absently and sighed. “I’ve got a date in that fancy schmancy ‘sitting room’ with Chuckles. Could we speed it up a little?� She backed inside from the doorframe as he let himself in.

The top of his head barely reached the bridge of her nose, but he was broad and took up a lot of physical space. Myriad smells tickled her nose, chief among them the offending cigars, which reminded her of burning chicken feathers.

The interior far outmatched the façade of the house, he decided. Polished hardwood and marble was set off by rich tapestries and well-maintained houseplants, and the foyer was enormous. He felt out of his league.

“This way, please. Er…Logan, was it?�

“It was, and it still is, sweet cheeks.�

“Geez,� she muttered with a slight chuckle. “Can I take your hat and coat?�

“If ya promise that I’ll get ‘em back.� He didn’t add In case I hafta hightail it outta here.

“Charles may hold them for collateral, depending what he needs from you,� she admitted. “We really do need you, Logan.� Her voice was suddenly humble, perhaps even pleading.

“Who’s ‘we?’�

“Let me ring Stevie.� She didn’t answer his question. He grunted slightly as he sat on a nailheaded antique chair upholstered in Prussian Blue silk. His jacket and Stetson disappeared out the door, and he treated himself to a parting glimpse of fabulous legs. She was a looker.

Moments later, an attractive, petite woman with a mocha complexion and neat cornrows showed up with a tray of goodies and set them down on the cherrywood table in the corner. “Hope you’re making yourself at home,� she announced. “I’m Stevie.�

“Logan,� he murmured. This one was older and had a certain bossy quality that he admired from the jump.

“Go ahead and eat something. Charles will be here in a few minutes. Might as well shake off that jet lag.� She nodded to his extinguished cigar sticking up from his shirt pocket. “And don’t light that thing in here.�

“Wouldn’t think of it.� Sheesh.

He gratefully helped himself to the finger sandwiches, thankful that they contained filling spreads such as egg salad and deviled ham; no dry turkey, this time. He wiped his thick fingers on an absurdly small cocktail napkin just as he heard familiar footsteps and smelled a scent that he hadn’t in years.

“Logan. I trust you had an uneventful trip?� He extended his hand. Logan rose and took it in his hearty grip.

“Jet lag’s a bitch,� he replied. Charles grinned.

“We have just the thing for that. Jean said you were interested in running water, so perhaps you’ll settle for the outdoor pool or the Jacuzzi tub downstairs?� The corner of Logan’s mouth shot up, making him look like a sly fox.

“She did, huh?�

“Business first,� he suggested curtly, taking up his seat at the wide oak desk in front of the heavy drapes. Sunlight streamed inside and illuminated him from behind. His blue eyes were still shrewd, if more deeply lined than Logan remembered, but he was still fit and spry. “Obviously you had the chance to read my letter to you a few weeks ago.�

“It caught my eye.� He’d read it ten times. “What exactly do ya need from me, Chuck?�

“It’s complicated.�

“So’m I. Try me.�

“You remember that my ward, now Moira’s daughter, left in a bad state when you last saw her.�

“I didn’t forget a damned thing about that day, bub. Get on with it.� It still haunted him. That tiny girl’s eyes were too old for her to have escaped unscarred. Logan fell asleep every night and awoke screaming every day, damning Farouk. Damning Vic.

“She’s hardly my ward now,� Charles explained. “She’s grown now, as you no doubt guessed, and she’s attending college.�

“Fine. So, whaddya need me for?�

“I need you to help her remember. There’s something broken inside her. I can’t fix it myself.� Logan’s hackles went up.

“Come again?�

“There was no way she could walk away from everything that happened to her without being affected deeply, and badly. She’s been having dreams. She wakes up screaming from them.�

“Can ya blame her?�

“Not at all. But I’ve tried time and again to help her through them by drawing her out to tell me about them. I’ve tried sleep studies, hypnosis, and psychic examinations.�

“No go, huh?�

“No. In that way, she reminds me of you, Logan.�

“Eh?�

“Your thoughts. They’re nearly impossible to read.�

“I ain’t got a problem with that, either, Chuck.� Logan’s eyes dared him to try. Charles sighed.

“She wakes in the morning and goes about her day as though nothing happened. And…this is more difficult to describe.�

“Go ‘head.�

“She has no fear.�

“What the heck’s that supposed ta mean?�

“She’s not afraid of anything. Not even the rational fear that makes normal people cautious about things they know are dangerous. As a child, Stevie, Moira and I would have to monitor her carefully, even avidly. Walking into direct traffic, handling snakes that were likely poisonous, jumping off of rooftops…thankfully, that last indulgence of hers is no longer a problem, but she used to scare us all out of years of life.� This time Logan scowled.

“Whaddya mean, it ain’t a problem? She jumps, she goes splat, and she dies? That don’t bother you, old man?�

“She doesn’t ‘jump.’ She flies.� Logan choked on a can of soda mid-sip, nearly doing a spit-take through his nose.

“Yer friggin’ kiddin’ me.�

“I assure you, sir, I am not.� Charles rose from his seat and fixed himself a cup of tea, laying a long, Danish sugar cube on the edge of the saucer. “In some ways, she hasn’t changed since the last night that you saw her.�

“That ain’t what I wanted ta hear, Chuck.� All Logan could remember were those eyes, and her inability to let anyone to touch her, even to offer comfort. “That kid went through hell.�

“That’s why I need you. You saved her once. I need you to save her again. I cannot do it alone. She needs to remember, even if it’s painful.�

“Ya ain’t doin’ her any favors. Trust me. I ain’t forgotten a damned thing about that night. There ain’t much left of the man I wanna see starin’ back at me in the mirror every day. I don’t even know what ta tell ya, Chuck. The nightmares never stop. I’d be thankful if I didn’t hafta think about ‘em after I open my eyes.� Charles was thoughtful.

“Logan, when you fall back to sleep, do the nightmares continue?�

“Yep.�

“Does remembering them affect the outcome? Can you imagine how to change what happened during the dreams, such as imagining a solution to the problem, or being able to fight against whoever or whatever is attacking you? Are you attacked during your dreams?�

“Sometimes. ‘Cept it’s worse. It ain’t always me who’s attacked. Sometimes it’s her.� Charles watched his knuckles turn white, fearing for a moment that his claws would make an unwelcome appearance. “Sometimes it’s her, and I can’t reach her. There’s somethin’ that always gets in the way. She’s helpless in my dreams, and the worst friggin’ part it, Chuck, is so am I.�

“Whose attacking her?�

“Always changes. Most of the time, it’s Vic.�

“The large man who attacked you in the Pearl?�

“That’s him.�

“I thanked heaven that you took care of him.�

“That’s the problem. I didn’t.� Fear bloomed in Charles’ gut, making his fingers turn to ice.

“What do you mean?�

“Vic ain’t dead. An’ it ain’t fer lack of tryin’. Vic’s like me. He’s got claws, but he can also heal like I can. Ya’ve seen me do that, Chuck. That makes him near impossible ta kill.�

“Good Lord!�

“The Lord didn’t have anything ta do with Vic walkin’ this earth.�

“How do you know he’s alive?�

“He’s been leavin’ a trail of blood fer me ta follow. Folks keep showin’ up dead. Vic keeps leavin’ his signature.�

“Does he know where you are now?�

“He shouldn’t. I’ve been coverin’ my tracks, but never say never. That’s one thing I’ve learned, being alive as long as I have.�

“How old are you, Logan?� Charles asked softly.

“I don’t count anymore.� His stiff posture slowly deflated as he sank back into the chair, and his eyes were sad. For just a moment, Logan resembled a lost little boy. “And Chuck? One more thing ya should know.�

“What’s that?�

“Farouk ain’t all that dead, either.� This time Charles’ blood ran cold.

Stevie returned to situate Logan in the first guest bedroom in the west wing on the third floor. Stevie mentioned that there was an attic upstairs, and that if he found that the noises overhead disturbed him, she could move him. He didn’t ponder that that meant as he made use of the adjoining bathroom. Grit, sweat and the majority of his aches and pains ran down the drain, and he stayed in the shower until the hot water was long gone.

He contemplated Charles’ words. No fear. Logan still couldn’t fathom why that was a problem if it protected her from being scarred by what happened.

A fresh change of clothes and a shave later found Logan downstairs again, taking an unescorted tour of the grounds. The property was vast and beautiful, including roughly two acres of dense woods and a large pond. Jean hadn’t lied about the stables; the horses were well-groomed and well-fed, and a slightly skittish dapple gray mare whickered at him as he approached. She tossed her blonde mane as he leaned over the edge of her stable.

“C’mere, beautiful,� he beckoned, and curiosity won out over caution. She crept over and nosed his hand, sniffing for treats but finally settling for his caress. He blew into her nostrils and stroked her mane, wondering whose she was. She was relaxed and content; his rapport with animals was sharp, usually more so with predators, but he could pick up on the emotions that most creatures broadcast to others. He could tell that she’d been ridden recently, and briskly.

“What are you doing here?�

He’d barely heard her approach; she’d also been upwind of him until she was nearly on top of him. One whiff told him it wasn’t the redhead. He had to know who possessed that rich, deep and throaty voice.

His mouth went dry. His lips parted slightly, but he was incapable of speech.

She was grown, Charles told him. And then some…shit.

She towered over him, no longer vulnerable and helpless, but her eyes were still ancient and canny. The blue had deepened from cerulean to sapphire, now slightly slanted and inarguably her most striking feature. Her hair was still a pure ivory, but now luxuriously long and thick, a wind-tossed mass of curls, floating on the faint breeze even now.

Her scent was clean. That was the first impression that came to his muddled mind, once he could form thought. Not just hygienically, but her aura. She didn’t smell like someone hiding a guilty secret. No fear, like Charles said, or he would have smelled that, too. There was no artifice or coyness in her manner. Her eyes and voice were direct.

She repeated herself from plump lips, ripe and full as peaches. “I don’t believe you belong out here on the professor’s property, sir.�

“Maybe not this piece of it, darlin’, but like I told Jeannie, I’m stayin’ under his roof tonight.�

“She hates being called that. Stick with Jean.� Her voice wasn’t scolding, just matter-of-fact. She didn’t so much as crack a smile. “While we’re on the subject, who are you?�

He suppressed a grin. “I go by Logan. Among other things.�

“Telling me what those other things are isn’t a guarantee that I can allow you to stay here, Logan.� Her stance was slightly haughty as she plowed a hand through that marvelous hair, more to scrape it back from her face than to show off. “Are you through flirting with Amelia?�

“This pretty lady? She ain’t old me ta take a hike yet, unlike some people. At least someone knows how ta treat comp’ny.�

“Her tastes are usually more discriminating.� Her walk was graceful, almost leonine as she approached, bringing more of that scent Logan was enjoying so much with her. Her curves were generous and sculpted, a melody of voluptuousness and lean muscle. She reached into her pocket and produced a long carrot stick.

“Sure they are, darlin’, if yer always bringin’ her bribes.� Amelia whickered at him again, this time cheekily showing her teeth his way and shaking her head. Okay. Be that way, Amelia. Picky nag, aintcha?

“What business do you have with Charles?�

“It’s his business an’ mine. But I’m a guest. I’m stayin’ on the third floor.� She mulled this silently as the mare eagerly wolfed down the carrot. “An’ it might be a little premature, darlin’, ta be so familiar with ya, but ya sure have gotten a lot more uppity since the last time I saw ya.�

“Excuse me?� Her calm mask was marred by the arch of one brow.

“First time we ever met, ya told me I was a mean man. That was a long time ago.�

“And are you?� she challenged. She studied him intently, fascinated. “Mean?�

“Yup. That’s why Chuck asked fer my help, once upon a time.�

“To do what?�

“Ta save ya from a bad man.�

“Bad? Meaner than you?�

“Can’t even describe him with words, darlin’.�

“I’ll let you come up with some, then, while I head out. Amelia’s been chomping at the bit all morning. I just got back from a seminar.� Dressed as she was in shredded jeans, the denim so worn it was velvety, a battered, black ribbed tank that had seen better days, and a pair of broken-in Ropers on her feet, Logan could scarcely picture her in a classroom. She was untamed and belonged out in the open, unfettered. Just like Amelia.

“One question,� she told him.

“Knock yerself out.�

“Are you still a mean man?�

“I’ll let ya decide that yerself, darlin’.�

“Fine.� She mounted the horse in one clean hoist. “And for the record, I’m not afraid of mean men. That means you, too.�

She tore off without further discussion. Her hair whipped out behind her. Her body rippled in sync with Amelia’s, rider and horse both sleek and perfectly balanced. She had a magnificent seat, and, Logan decided, an ass that wasn’t half bad, either.

“Maybe ya should be, darlin’.�

She wasn’t a helpless child. So why the fuck did Chuck want him to save her?

Somewhat belatedly, as Ororo tore through the woods toward the pond, she realized that she never even told the stranger her name. And he didn’t seem to have a problem with that…


~0~

“So help me, Stevie, he scared the shit out of me.�

“Somehow, I get the feeling that doesn’t bother him any, either, Jean.� Both women were dressed in leotards, Jean’s in black, Stevie’s in white. Lilting classical music drifted through the tiny studio that Charles had converted from his old study, and Stevie was leading Jean through a barre workout that would leave her sore tomorrow. “C’mon, kiddo, put some back into it! And keep your back STRAIGHT!� Jean’s thighs screamed for mercy as she dropped into a grand plie. “Watch those hands. Make ‘em pretty, don’t hold ‘em like lobster claws.� Stevie paused long enough to fix Jean’s fingers, tucking her thumb under. “Better, somewhat.�

“Thanks,� Jean hissed blandly.

“And you thought you were just gonna learn how to read minds,� Stevie murmured smugly.

“That doesn’t usually give me sore feet. Scratch that: sore anything.� Then she amended, “Well, there are the headaches.�

Stevie’s face was sympathetic. “What happens when you get one, Jean?�

“It’s like opening Pandora’s box, except instead of letting everything out, I end up pulling everything in. My mind becomes a black hole. I can’t lock out anyone’s thoughts. After a while, Stevie, I literally get lost. I can’t tell whose thoughts are yours or mine.�

“Just don’t go snooping for my corn bread recipe, girl, that’s a family secret.�

“Girl Scout’s promise.�

“Guess it doesn’t matter much. I know I’m an open book. Charles didn’t need telepathy to know that I’d jump at coming to work for him after my accident.� She crossed the room and turned off the small stereo before tossing Jean a towel.

“He still can’t read Ororo, can he?� Stevie’s hand stilled as she reached for a bottle of water.

“It’s up to her if she wants to be read.� Then Stevie scowled. “I hope you haven’t pried, Jean.�

“No. I only take what she gives me. I respect her, Stevie, and I like her too much.�

“She’s opened up a little since you came here.�

“Charles was hoping that this Logan fella would help with that, too.�

“Seems like he’d scare anyone into singing like a canary.� She tucked her CDs back into their cases. “All things considered, though, I like him. He doesn’t seem like he’s here to take Charles for a ride, and Charles seems to trust him.�

“It might help if he wouldn’t scowl so often. Or that smirk. He likes the smirk.�

“You mean this one?� Jean bust out into giggles as Stevie emulated his eyebrow and lip curl.

“Ahahahaha…stop it! I’m gonna be picturing that the next time he does it, and I’m gonna laugh!�

“You’re welcome,� Stevie shrugged.

“I ran into him after he came back inside on my way to the kitchen. He gave me the smirk again, and it was weird, because it’s like he can look right through you.� Jean shuddered. “He knew he made me nervous, too.�

“What’d he say?�

“Something along the lines of ‘I ain’t the Big Bad Wolf, kid, so quit actin’ like Little Red Riding Hood.’� Stevie’s shoulders shook. “It was embarrassing.�

“And he no doubt enjoyed that.�


~0~

Victor? What does fear taste like to you?

Sweet. Then, he amended Satisfying. Gives me a buzz. I get drunk off of it.

It makes you feel powerful.

Heck, yeah, man. Shit…it practically makes me wanna come.

What are you afraid of, Victor?

I’ll let ya know when I find out, Farouk. Victor heard soft laughter in his thoughts as he looted the pockets of a man who’d tried to cheat him at poker. Blood leaked from his chest cavity, exposed as though someone turned it inside out.

Well said, my friend. Well said. How about blood?

What about it?

How does it make you feel?

The fear’s the main course. The blood’s the after dinner mint ta cap it off.

I’ve always liked that about you, Victor. A connoisseur and a man after my own heart.

Didn’t think ya had one, bub.

Touché.

This ain’t a social call.

You’re astute.

Whaddya want me ta do?

I need you to tie up some loose ends.

Where?

Overseas. New York.

I’m havin’ fun here.

Logan’s stateside. Victor paused in the act of pouring himself a shot of whiskey he’d purloined from the bar. I thought that might appeal to you.

No shit. I know what I want with him, Farouk, and it ain’t more cat-‘n-mouse. But what d’you want with him?

He’s in the way. He’s guarding my pet from me. And he’s not alone.

He ain’t gonna be easy ta take out.

That should appeal to you. Have fun with him, be my guest!

What else?

I want you to take out Charles Xavier.

Seems like ya’d wanna keep that on yer own plate.

It’s gravy. I need your touch.

Why?

Because he can’t read your mind. Not unless you let him in.

I don’t let anybody in.

They’ll know you at the airport, Victor. You’ll be flying first class. Bring something to read. Victor grumbled obscenities under his breath.

Few people could hide a birthday surprise so well as a telepath and a woman whose thoughts were shielded from external contact. The only giveaway, perhaps, would be the occasional furtive glance or stray giggle (from the telepath).

“Something smells delicious,� Charles remarked as he entered the dining room, lifting the lid of a large serving tray. He inhaled the rich scent of sausage and selected a plate from the short stack on the table. “Where’s Logan today?�

“He was up as early as sun-up. Heard him in the hall when it was still dark,� Stevie commented as she brought out the platter of scrambled eggs and hash browns.

“He didn’t sleep much last night, anyway,� Ororo sniffed. “Hardly ever does.� Jean scowled.

“How do you know?�

“I can hear him. Whenever he leaves the house. That’s what he does. He goes out to the lake. His footsteps carry back to me on the wind.� She grimaced. “So do those awful songs he sings, too.�

“Awful, huh?� Stevie chuckled.

“It’s a good thing he has other gifts,� Ororo said pointedly. Jean snorted into her coffee cup and nearly choked. It always tickled her that Ororo was so straight-faced no matter what came out of her mouth. And there she was again, serene and cavalier as she drizzled honey on her buttered toast.

“You’ve a seminar this morning, haven’t you, Ororo?� Charles inquired before he forked into his eggs.

“Yes. I do.� She smeared the honey through the melting butter with her finger, licking the tip, savoring the sticky sweetness.

“Will you be coming home once it’s done?�

“No.�

“Oh.�

“Mm-hmmm.�

“So…what will you be DOING after your seminar’s finished, child?�

This cat-and-mouse was typical of life at the school. His daughter only offered what was asked for, and only incrementally.

“Finishing up a few things that I have on my plate,� she shrugged. Her smile was, again, serene and slow. Charles sighed, but smiled back indulgently.

“That’s fine, then. At any rate, I’m planning to pick up Moira from the airport today.�

“Why not just send a car, Professor?�

“It’s a beautiful day outside. I’d enjoy the drive and the fresh air.�

“So do I,� Ororo agreed kindly. “Tell her I can’t wait to see her when you get there, Charles.�

“Japheth and Jamie are staying behind this time,� he informed her. “Jamie in particular wants to focus on his studies.�

“I know Japh doesn’t,� she snorted dryly. “He should have just come out to visit.�

“He’s been a bit subdued lately. Moira said he’s faring all right since his mutation manifested, but he’s just having a hard time adjusting to some of the complications associated with it.�

“Complications?� Jean asked.

“Things keep disappearing out of his room. He emailed me. Said last week it was his soccer ball.� She shrugged as though this was of no consequence. Jean’s brows beetled together.

“Professor, how’s he supposed to control it?�

“How do you control your power, Jean? Patience, practice and persistence.�

“The three P’s,� Ororo muttered, bored.

Behave yourself, young lady, he admonished. Ororo made a face. “Not all mutations are as benign as yours or Ororo’s, Jean. My own took me by surprise, and it took all the effort I had to lock out the thoughts that threatened to drown me. I almost lost myself.� He watched Ororo stirring sugar into her coffee. “Anyone can lose themselves. Never take your control over your powers for granted. Not only for your own sake, Jean.�

“I know,� she said quietly. “Believe me, I know, Professor. So tell me, how do his powers work again? He absorbs strength from things he eats? But he doesn’t eat himself? It’s…his INTESTINES?�

“Correct. In a nutshell. Japheth has a symbiotic relationship with his intestines, as you phrased it. They share his sentience, functioning as an extension of his nervous system and following signals from his brain.�

“So, let me get this straight,� she scoffed, incredulous, “his stomach can think?�

“Yes. And it’s actually two of his intestines. He’s even named them.� This time Jean choked.

“Went down the wrong pipe, sister?�

“Eerrgh! Almost coughed up a lung…I don’t want to know what he’s named them, do I?�

Charles’ grin was impish, an expression that was thoroughly out of character. “Eeny and Meeny.�

“Sweet baby Jesus,� Stevie tsked with a roll of her eyes. “That child, that child. You can tell he belongs to this crazy family, I can tell you that much.� She muttered all the way back to the kitchen. “Ate the soccer ball. Eeny and Meeny. Folks wanna give a woman a heart attack…bad enough ya got one of ‘em runnin’ ‘round nekkid…� Jean’s shoulders shook as she covered her face with her napkin. Ororo and Charles sighed.

“It’s an hour to the airport if I just take the car.�

“Why not take the train?�

“I want Moira to have room for her luggage, and some decent leg room, with the coming holidays sending more people to the station.�

“She picked a great time to come back,� Jean pointed out. “Just in time for the, er, fall colors.� Her smile was guileless, but there was a twinkle in her bottle green eyes. She knew Charles wouldn’t pry, but she raised her mental shields just the same. “I’ll see if Stevie needs any help after Douglas is finished with his lessons, Professor.�

“That would be nice, Jean.� He folded his napkin and rose, smoothing his silk blazer and tweaking his tie into place.

“You look nice today.� He beamed, trying but failing to suppress the flush that reached all the way to the top of his head. “Moira will like that suit.�

“She was the one who taught me how to cut a dash. By myself, I’m hopeless.� He pushed his chair into the table. “She’s always been there to save me from myself.�

“Sounds like something a wife would do.�

“Not a wife.� He tapped his temple, and Jean noticed the fine lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes had deepened over recent weeks. “She lives in here, as well as my heart. And my soul. She’s my soulmate.� Jean swallowed around a lump and felt emotion pricking at her eyes.

“Then why won’t you stay together here, Charles? Or at Kinross? Staff the school and just live here part-time? Why…why would you distance yourselves when you love each other so much?�

“It’s complicated.�

“Everything’s complicated around here,� she sniped. ““There’s no normal life, Wyatt. There’s just life,’� she drawled in an exaggerated accent. He huffed a short laugh.

“Well said, Jean! What was that from?�

“Doc Holiday, from ‘Tombstone.’ It’s kinda become my mantra. I dwell on that a lot since Annie died. Since I felt her die.� The tactile memory of her best friend’s body curled up in her arms beside the curb never left her. Her lifeless eyes followed her into sleep every night. She still felt Annie’s soul, slipping free from her fingertips.

“I know. And I’m sorry, child, for that loss.�

“Everything changed.�

“I know.� She reached for him, taking his hand in hers.

“And it taught me that life’s too short, and better lived with someone willing to go with you for the journey.� He squeezed her fingers.

“Point taken, Jean. I’ll see you in a few hours. I’m taking Moira for lunch on the way back.�

“Drive safe.� She and Ororo lingered over their coffee after he left. Ororo had been thoughtful and quiet.

“I’m afraid, Ororo.�

“Why?�

“I don’t know if I’ll ever find that someone I want to keep my company on my own ‘journey,’ and here I am, lecturing the professor. I feel like a hypocrite.�

“How do you propose to fix that problem, O Wise One?� Ororo ducked as Jean threw a bit of sausage across that table at her.

“I don’t have a clue.�

“So why are you afraid? Goddess, Jean, what do you even have to be afraid of? You’re certainly beautiful, if the way every male who knocks on the door is any indication. You made poor Douglas collide with the wall yesterday when he was rounding the corner.� She began ticking off points mechanically on her slender fingers. “Smart. Silly. Soft hearted.�

“I’m not that much of a softie!�

“You cried over ‘Ever After’ when we watched it last night.�

“Oh, shut up.�

“Sympathetic. Talented. Insightful. Instinctively, not just because you know what people are thinking.�

“I don’t always know what you’re thinking, sweetie.�

“Patience, persistence and practice,� she shrugged. The corners of her full, ripe mouth curled.

“I only put up with you because I love you so much.�

“I know.�

“Brat.�

“I know.�

“Why aren’t you ever afraid of anything?�

“Honestly?�

“Honestly.�

“I don’t know, Jean. I don’t have a clue.� They were interrupted by a knock on the entry way door.

“I’ll get it.�

“We’re going shopping next, yes?�

“Yes, yes, yes,� she sang, rushing off in a swish of sage green skirt. Ororo listened to the clop-clop of her kitten-heeled shoes and her customary “Good morning, how can I help you?�

Except this time, it was absent. No, Ororo decided, abbreviated.

“Good morn…erk.�

Erk? Ororo left the table and followed her into the hall.

“Who is it, Jean? Oh, hullo,� Ororo announced pleasantly, nodding to the shy looking young man who easily stood as tall as she was. He was riveted on Jean, staring at her through a pair of odd glasses with deep crimson lenses. He cleared his throat and looked just as bashful as he met Ororo’s gaze.

“H-hi. Er, I’m here to see, uh, Mr. Xavier? Charles…Xavier?�

“The Professor,� Ororo corrected him. “He just left.�

“He’ll be back!� Jean insisted hastily. “God, where are my manners, come in! Come on in,� she pleaded, jerking Ororo back to allow him entry, practically shoving her behind her. “I’m Jean! Jean Grey! I’m a student, one of his senior students! Charles left a little while ago. He’ll be back! He had to go to the airport. Not to fly anywhere, mind you, I mean, he wouldn’t just fly off when he was expecting you today! He never said he was expecting you, and that you were showing up this morning. What did you say your name was again?�

“I, uh, I didn’t. Scott. It’s…Scott. Summers.�

“Make yourself comfortable, Scott Summers.� Ororo’s tone was bland, and he was dazzled by her striking looks, even though her blunt manner baffled him.

It was almost like talking to a living, breathing doll. Pretty to look at, but her features, even her gestures, were absent of deep emotion. Jean skipped ahead of them both, giving a nickel tour.

“This is the dining room. You must be starved! Where are you coming here from, Scott?� She was already pulling out a chair for him. “Can I take your coat?�

“Can I have it back?�

“Yes, you can have it back,� Ororo stated briskly. He shrugged out of his weather-beaten brown corduroy jacket. The fluffy fleece lining still held the warmth of his lean body when Jean took it from him, stroking it.

Dimly she wondered why Ororo was finding it so easily to revert to type, unaffected by his looks, by his very presence.

The boy was a knockout. A shy, unassuming, pleasant, clean-cut knockout. His bone structure was chiseled and well-defined. He had the high forehead of an intellectual, with locks of chestnut brown hair falling carelessly into his eyes, or it would, if not for the glasses. His lips were thin and wide; he was a man who smiled easily, and he sported a tiny cleft in his chin. It was a very nice chin, Jean noticed. Very, very nice.

She stopped herself from reaching out to press her index finger into that tempting cleft to see how deep it was.

“Right. Let me hang this up. Food. Let’s give you some food.� She trotted out of the room, turning back around to give him one last glance. She smiled at her full wattage, showing dimples. “Ororo, keep him company?�

“Not moving,� Ororo chirped. She was out of earshot when Ororo muttered “Gads.�

“I will get my coat back, won’t I?�

“She might keep it as collateral.� Her honesty made him chuckle, breaking the awkwardness. “Want anything to eat?�

“Anything that’s not nailed down.�

“The furniture isn’t.�

“Can I have some eggs?�

“That works, too. They aren’t bad.� Ororo got up and started ladling his plate full of the table’s offerings and pouring him some juice. “You never said where you were from, Scott.� Because Jean didn’t let you get a word in edgewise.

“Anchorage.�

“Long flight.�

“Arms are still tired.� He sampled the eggs and sighed with contentment. “Right on the money. These are pretty good.�

“Told you.�

“Are you a student, too?�

“Student teacher,� she clarified smoothly. “I’m attending college and getting work experience here as Charles needs me.�

“You call him by his first name,� he pointed out.

“I used to call him Daddy. He was heartbroken when I stopped.� He opened his mouth, whether to pepper her for an explanation or to show he was at a lack for words, she couldn’t tell. Jean swept in, eliminating the need for the former.

“I had an idea,� Jean breathed. “Wanna come shopping with us?� His eyes would have glazed over if they could see them, Ororo was willing to bet. His answer surprised her.

“Where?�

“Salem Center. I know the Professor wouldn’t have mentioned it, but it’s his birthday. Moira had an ulterior motive for coming this week. She’s his associate and a liaison to the school. You’ll like her.�

“She’s more than that,� Ororo murmured, sitting back down and picking apart an abandoned crust of her toast. “She’s also my mother.�

“Wow.�

“Yup.�

“Take your time, finishing up.� She didn’t tear her eyes away when the front door opened again. Ororo sat up in her seat at the sound of heavy, booted footfalls in the hallway and a familiar voice cursing under his breath.

“The lord of the manor returns,� she quipped. “Stevie won’t need us to clear away the food yet.� She called out toward the door, “There’s plenty of breakfast left, Logan, if you’re interested.� Jean automatically sat down next to Scott, edging her chair so close that the wooden arms bumped.

He didn’t seem to mind. Ororo’s smile was wide and knowing.

Goddess help you, Scott. Jean refilled his juice before he could ask her to pass the pitcher.

If Scott started Jean rambling, Logan did the opposite, sucking the conversation out of the room. He shucked his Stetson, running a hand roughly through his hair to make it spring back into its tousled self. He brought the scents of fresh air and leaves inside with him. His hair was damp; Ororo could smell lake water. She guessed he’d availed himself of the bath house on the shore.

“Hey, sport,� he greeted, nodding to Scott, but his eyes were wary. “What brings ya here?�

“A jet,� Ororo interjected. “This is Scott.�

“Hm.� Jean narrowed her eyes at his brusqueness.

“Scott, this is Logan. Charles invited him to come stay with us.�

“Not a student, huh?� Scott inquired.

“Do I look like a flamin’ student, bub? Ya see any acne or knobby knees?� Scott’s smiled faltered when he said “Guess that makes ya a student, then.�

“Gads,� Ororo muttered under her breath. Logan chose that moment to level her with his gaze.

Sunlight stroked her caramel skin and set her hair ablaze as it streamed in through the large dining room window. She chose a snug long-sleeves black sweater, with a deep scoop neck and a horizontal white strip that spanned her generous breasts, making them pop. Hello, Mama. She wore jeans, which seemed to be her favorite togs, but these were snug and new, made from stiff, dark denim and boot-cut to show off her long legs. She wore ankle-length black boots of buttery soft leather, which he only noticed when she leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, swinging her foot.

The mouth that starred in his fantasies was moving again, and it picked him as its target.

“Jean and I won’t be here long, Logan. We’re running a few errands. Think you can hold down the fort, between that and…whatever it is you do?� She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. He deftly flung his hat onto the side table and took a plate, zeroing in on the sausage links. Her tone suggested he couldn’t.

“Think I’ll manage. What’s with the glasses, bub?�

“Oh. These. They help keep my eyes in check.�

“Know what they say ‘bout wanderin’ eyes,� Logan drawled.

“Logan,� Jean tsked. “Stop it.�

“The professor said he might be able to help me. He said Moira helped to come up with these. I’d like to thank her when she gets here.�

“How do they help, Scott?� She propped her chin in her hand and studied him with undisguised interest.

“They keep me from losing control. I don’t know how.�

“Ya’ve got powers, don’tcha?�

“I found that out three years ago, after I lost my family.� He heard Jean’s intake of breath and felt her soft fingers wrap around his hand, the need to touch him driven wholly by sympathy.

“I’m so sorry.�

“I’m alive,� he offered. “Thanks.� He squeezed her fingers, not unlike how Charles had before he left. A current of something warm and comforting ran through her bones. Ororo watched the silent exchange of emotions on their faces, and, she could have sworn, of thoughts.

“So what can ya do, sport?�

“Got a quarter?� he asked, nonplussed. Logan set down his fork and grunted, digging into his pocket and extracting a coin.

“Knock yerself out.�

“We’re not supposed to use our powers in the house,� Ororo warned calmly.

“No. YOU can’t,� Jean amended.

“I’m special. Can’t turn mine off,� Logan bragged, enjoying the irritation that flitted over Ororo’s face. He loved getting her goat. When she’d let him.

“Then let’s take this outside.� Scott excused himself and strode outside through the front door. Jean followed, hot on his heels. Ororo and Logan took their sweet time.

“’Nother mutant,� Logan muttered. “What next?�

“He learns what he can here. Charles helps him, and he decides where to go next. Doesn’t sound complicated, does it? Don’t’ strain yourself with that concept.�

“Someone drank their cup of smart ass this mornin’.�

Knock it off, you two! The boy wants to show us something. Yeesh!

“Sorry,� Ororo mumbled, folding her arms.

“Call heads or tails,� Scott beckoned, holding the coin in his palm.

“Heads,� she said predictably. He flipped it up neatly.

SHRAKKTT!

In the blink of an eye, he deftly raised his glasses. Jean saw his eyes glow red before a scarlet beam exploded from them, nailing the coin. She shrieked, so startled that she bumped into Ororo.

“Didjouseedisjousee! Ohmigod!� Scott grinned as he caught the coin, glasses safely in place. He handed her the quarter.

“Maybe you could string it on a necklace,� Ororo suggested. “Neat trick.� He bore a hole neatly through the coin, dead center, leaving no rough edges. Jean traced it with her fingertip.

“So that’s what you can do. That’s amazing, Scott.�

“Looks like ya have a good enough handle on it, pal.�

“Only with these,� he explained, tapping his lens. “Can’t take ‘em off, even to sleep.�

“We’ll have to see what Charles can do about that.� She took him by the arm and led him back into the house. Logan and Ororo watched them move up the steps, body language similar and comfortable.

“She put the hook in him.’

“He’s not even fighting it,� Ororo agreed. “So.� She turned to him haughtily. “What are you doing today?�

“Lyin’ low. What I do best, darlin’. Might even go out an’ help Ramsey in the shed.�

“Fine. I know you don’t want to go shopping.�

“Give the lady a gold star.�

“Clean yourself up for dinner tonight. We’re having it here, but it would be nice if you’d stand on ceremony. Like, bathe.�

“Takin’ it under advisement. Might even use utensils. Or not.� She sighed. He shrugged.

It might help…if he wasn’t so darned sexy. He stood with his hand on his narrow hip, rubbing his nape as he appraised her.

“Heard ya strugglin’.�

“Excuse me?� Her brow wrinkled. “When?�

“Last night. ‘Bout an hour after ya turned in. What’s wrong?�

“Nothing,� she insisted. “Do you always eavesdrop on people when they sleep?�

“Hard not to, babe.�

“What’d I say?� she challenged, disbelieving. Her arms folded themselves beneath her breasts. He mentally wiped away drool.

“Got me.�

“So you were probably just hearing things.�

“Uh-uh. I heard ya talkin’ in yer sleep.�

“I doubt it.�

“It just wasn’t in English.� That made her pause in her attempt to leave him behind. She froze. He heard the wind pick up, rattling the remaining leaves in the trees. Overhead, the clouds rolled ominously.

“How do you know?�

“Heard Ainet say a few of the things you did, every now and again. Never understood all of it, but it was the same dialect.�

“What…you don’t know what I was saying?�

“Best as I could tell, darlin’, it sounded like ‘Help.’�


~0~


How far are ye from here, Charley?

“Roughly a half an hour away,� he spoke aloud, projecting both his words and a visual of the scenery zooming by. “I may get there by the time you retrieve your luggage.�

Food was bluidy awful. Aye, they should be ashamed of themselves. Charles chuckled.

“Stevie will spoil you once you get back to the house. Ororo sends a hug along with me.�

The lass isn’t coming wi’ ye, then?

“She had an errand to run with Jean before you got here. One that involved party hats.� He adjusted the volume of his CD deck, lowering it until the Beethoven symphony piping out from his speakers lilted gently in the background.

Och! Charley, dinna disappoint the girls an’ ruin the surprise! Yuir wicked, ye ken that? Ooooooooooh! Dinna make me kick yuir bum when I get off this plane!

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Moira, I promise.�

How did ye find out?

“They were covert enough. But the Salem bakery accidentally dialed my office extension to ask if the cake order was for chocolate or lemon.� He heard her quiet laughter in his mind.

Scamp.

“How’s Kevin?�

The same. No better, although perhaps a little worse. He’s grown so dark, Charley. So bitter.

“Moira…you don’t have to go through this alone.�

What’s yuir suggestion, then? We’re continents apart. I kinna move him -

“The school is large enough, well-equipped enough to transfer him here. We could find a way, colleen,� he urged, falling back on an old, seldom used pet name. It sparked memories of racing their mares along the beach outside her estate, and of her voice murmuring to him in the dark, her breath stirring the hairs on his chest. As he’d told Jean, things were complicated.

He still loved her.

I still love ye so much it breaks m’heart, Charley. He felt her emotions, resigned and a little sad, realizing that he’d leaked his own into their link. Dinna doubt that for one moment.

“Don’t say no. Please, Moira, not yet.�

Kevin’s unstable. It took months tae build the containment cell. An’ it’s still a bluidy cell, no matter how much I try tae make it his home. He’s trapped, Charley. I’d die tae give him a full life, tae replace what was taken away from him. I love me son, but he’s set on hating his mum until he breathes his last. An’ what kind of mum am I?

“Ask Ororo that question when you walk in that door, Moira. You’ve been loving and strong. Don’t ever think that you’ve never done enough for that child, for Kevin, for Japheth!�

I haven’t saved any of them. He felt her despair, and through her eyes, saw the runway. The poor wee lass can’t feel! Not like yuirself an’ I, Charles! I let her out of me sight once, an’ look what happened! Once was all it took!

“She can feel.� Charles’ sigh was ragged and deep, and he felt himself straining at the edges, fighting back his own grief. “Whenever you watch a storm building in the distance, the child’s expressing her emotions, Moira. Whenever the sun breaks through the clouds, whenever a rainbow drifts across the sky after a hard rain, that’s Ororo. Laughing, crying, or letting you know you’ve stepped on her toes. And she can feel love. Yours. Mine. Jean’s or Stevie’s. The only thing she can’t feel, for the moment, is fear.�

The dreams are worse?

“She still won’t let me in, conscious or awake. She can’t. Something’s still blocking her.�

Ye tried a more in depth, psychic evaluation?

“The feedback nearly killed me.�

Och. Poor lassie.

“I am happy to report one thing, however. She’s changed since my associate from Cairo came abroad.�

Oh?

“You’ll see when you get here. More verbal. I’d hazard saying that she’s more open.�

I ken I’ll believe it when I see it wi’ me own eyes, Charley. Shadows from the leaves brushed over him as she steered the Rolls down the gravel road. The symphony reached a crescendo…

A tall, burly figure leapt out from the trees, launching himself directly into his path.

“Good heavens!� Charles bellowed, flooring the brake as the blood in his veins froze, gripping the wheel so hard it was painful.

The impact of the man’s solid bulk crumpled the bumper and bent back the hood, launching the fragile ornament through the air.

All Charles could see were the man’s eyes. Determined and cold. Remorseless…


~0~

“Can you carry one more bag, Scott?�

“I think I can – oof! – manage,� he huffed as Jean looped one more around his wrist. Ororo sighed as she balanced the large cake box, inhaling the tempting aroma of buttercream frosting.

“I can’t wait to get back and show Stevie the stuff we got for the table,� Jean gushed.

“We should have enough time to get everything ready before he gets back from the airport,� Ororo reasoned.

“How old is the Professor this year?� Scott inquired.

“He won’t tell us,� Jean sniffed. “My mom calls it her annual 29th.�

“I don’t see what the big deal about getting old is, anyway.�

“I do. I’m afraid to get old,� Jean admitted to Ororo.

“Only one alternative to getting old. And one of these days, we’ll all die. Why be afraid of it?�

“Ororo…you’re scaring me,� Jean laughed, trying to lighten the moment, but Scott suddenly sobered.

“Kinda makes you not mind the idea of getting old.� He playfully nudged her shoulder with his. “Might as well have fun on the way there.�

“Doesn’t sound that bad when you put it that – AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!�

“JEAN!� Scott cried, dropping the packages and catching her just as she folded. She gripped her head between her fists, as though she could tear away the pain gripping her. Several passerby paused to see what was wrong in the middle of their busy street, but Ororo’s expression brooked no interference.

“Get back,� she hissed. She set down the cake and knelt by Jean, who was babbling and sobbing, rocking back and forth on her knees.

“Don’t,� she cried. “DON’T! PLEASE! Bleeding,� she whimpered. “Burning. Like fire. Too much, too much, too much!�

“Jean,� Ororo exclaimed firmly. “What’s happening to you?� Her grasp was strong as she pried Jean’s fist from her temple, keeping her from beating the images out.

“Not…me.�

“Jean…� For the only time in Jean’s memory since they met, Ororo’s lips quivered.

“Moira…I’m…sorry,� Jean rasped. “Always love you, colleen.�

“Goddess!� Ororo’s stomach dropped sharply, making her lurch.

“I tried,� she insisted, her green eyes pleading with her sister, except it wasn’t her that she saw. “I tried, Moira. Every day of my life. I love you. Don’t…think badly of me, colleen.�

“What’s happening to her? What’s she saying?� Scott demanded, unwilling to let go of her.

“It’s not Jean. It’s Charles. He’s speaking through her.� Scott’s face was twisted in confusion. Jean’s sobs slowed, and Scott felt her slump against him, spent.

“Charles has been attacked. If we don’t get to him, he’ll die!�


~0~

All he saw was rage, and crimson. His heart pounded out of his chest. The beast before him hungered for its pulse between his gnashing teeth as he lunged for him.

The collision didn’t harm him. He stood. Rose from the ground and smoothly rounded the car. The door slammed open and fell off the hinge before Charles could recover himself.

“Nice day fer a drive, eh? Sweet ride. Gonna have one helluva story ta tell yer mechanic!� Charles felt himself jerked from the driver’s seat once the belt was torn away. The feral stranger flung him aside like a doll. His flight through the air was broken by a tall oak. Charles bit his tongue as he slammed against its bulk, tasting copper. He spat out a thin stream of blood.

“How did you get…*cough*…�

“Decided ta take a holiday. See the sights, stateside. Missed it.� His amber eyes gleamed. Despite the sunny day outside, Victor seemed to attract shadow, cloaking himself in it. He wasn’t as shabbily dressed as the night that they fought. His body was massive; he showed no signs of aging or slowing down, except for pronounced brackets around his mouth and frown lines between his brows. His coarse blond hair was longer, clubbed back neatly and hanging down his back. Charles’ back throbbed, but he mastered the urge to collapse.

“What do you want?� Vic shrugged and popped his knuckles. The sound was sickening.

“Don’t matter what I want. I’m just here fer the ride, asshole. Call me a friggin’ tourist.� He advanced on him, enjoying the scent of wary fear emanating from the fallen man. “Ain’t gonna call me much of anything in a minute. Say g’night!� He lunged for Charles, who timed it just long enough to dodge him, rolling free to let inertia carry him head-first into the oak. Victor grunted, annoyance giving way to rage.

“Pussy,� he spat, watching Charles scramble back toward the car.

“I won’t make this easy for you,� he croaked.

“Too late fer that. Gonna make it painful fer you.�

He didn’t spend those years in the Army fighting for his life and his country only to die alone now. Charles measured his stance and searched for weak points, deciding his best weapon was distraction.

~0~


Charley! CHARLEY? Answer me, damn you! ANSWER ME, CHARLES!


~0~

“He isn’t answering his cell,� Stevie grumbled.

“Eh?� Logan went to the kitchen sink to wash his grubby hands. “Were ya expectin’ ta hear from him?�

“I wanted to know which room he wanted me to neaten up for Moira.�

“Give her a place ta put her feet up when she walks in through the door and figure out the rest later.�

“She’s gonna be wiped out. I hate long flights.� She shook herself; Logan smelled a change in her body chemistry before she even cried out. Her eyes clenched shut and she gripped the counter to steady herself.

“Oh…no! Don’t…leave me alone,� she begged him. “Won’t let the children find me this way!� She writhed, and Stevie fought Logan’s hands that reached for her.

“Cripes! What the hell’s happenin’ to ya, darlin’!�

“Wants to kill me,� she insisted before her brown eyes rolled back. “VICTOR!� she screamed. Logan reeled back, dizzy from his hammering pulse.

“Victor,� Logan growled. “How d’ya know ‘bout Vic? Ya’ve never even met him! Talk t’me, woman! Where’s VICTOR?�

“Can almost see the lake from here,� she gasped. “Sun’s in my eyes.� Her eyes snapped open, this time focusing on him with eerie clarity. “Tell Moira why I didn’t make it!� Her voice was different. All of Stevie’s usual mannerisms were gone; her tone was more formal, her vowels pear-shaped.

“Chuck?�

“Bleeding,� she told him before she passed out.


~0~

“I told the dispatcher to send the ambulance to the house. There’s only one road for them to follow to get there,� Jean informed them from the back seat of the small Civic Charles gave Ororo for her eighteenth birthday. Ororo was too busy with watching the road. Scenery whizzed by them at more miles per hour than the speedometer would allow; the needle bounced back.

“Shit,� Scott rasped, holding tightly to the door bar and flooring an imaginary brake.

Their heartbeats drummed in mad, frenzied sync.

“I’m coming, Daddy,� Ororo whispered. Her eyes held cold steel as she gunned the gas.

~0~

CLANG!

The tire iron that Charles managed to grab from the back of the ruined car bounced off of Victor’s shoulder, narrowly missing his head once he found an open opportunity to strike.

“FUCK!� Charles staggered back, feinting out from claw’s reach. They were truly claws. Charles discovered that from close up, too close. His suit jacket lay in tatters from where Victor had wrenched it off while grabbing him. Charles had wriggled free before he could suffer any more than a superficial injury, but his shirt was laced with long bloody streaks and ragged tears.

He knew Victor was too fast for him to run. Too canny for him to get another advantage. His keys were still in the ignition…

“AAAGHH!� Vic cuffed him across the cheek almost hard enough to send his head spinning off his shoulders. Pain exploded across his flesh. The iron clattered free from his hand.

“Gettin’ sick of this shit, old man,� he huffed, shaking his head. “Ya don’t get it, do ya? Ya ain’t walkin’ away from this. Ya know what this is about? Ya shouldn’t have crossed Farouk.�

“You don’t have to yield to him,� Charles managed, still edging back on his haunches, dragging himself along the gravel. “You’re your own man!�

“Still on his payroll. Fucker’s got a piece of everything, everywhere! How’d ya think I traveled in style like this? First class,� he muttered, swinging out and kicking Charles in the chest. “Limo.� He hoisted him up, not caring that his claws scored his chest as he brought him up to his feet. Charles gurgled but didn’t cry out as Victor choked him, digging into his jugular. His feet dangled off the ground. “Mints on the pillow. Can’t beat fancy livin’, eh? Yer hidin’ the runt, too.� Charles’ eyes looked bleak.

“What…do you want with him?�

“Ya already know that,� Vic tutted, licking stray blood from his lip. “Don’t take it personal, asshole. I’m just doin’ my job, an’ doin’ it well. Don’t hurt that I get a few perks. And it ain’t just about the runt. Farouk wants his property back. That sweet little girl. He knows it’s been you standin’ in his way, whatever the fuck ya’ve been doin’,� Victor sneered. He tapped his forehead with one claw. “Ya can’t get in here. Most folks ain’t welcome, anyway, but Farouk’s checkin’ IDs at the door.�

“Then tell him…� Charles gulped for another breath. Victor drew him close, steaming his face with hot breath. He watched the feral thug’s nostrils flare, pupils dilating in his hard amber eyes.

“Tell him what?�

“I will see him again soon,� he informed him, with less bravado than he felt.

Victor’s incredulous bark of laughter shook his chest. He wrung Charles by his shirt with the effort. His body stiffened. A new emotion bloomed in his face.

Satisfaction.

The laughter continued, deepening, becoming more sonorous and confident. It boomed, deafening Charles and sending birds into flight from the trees.

“You took away my body, Charles. Reap what you have sown!� Farouk’s laughter issued loud and cruel from Victor’s fanged mouth. He proceeded to rip Charles’ spine apart.


~0~

Moira frantically signaled a cab driver. Her suitcase and duffled remained abandoned on the carousel outside the terminal. Her purse banged her hip as she flagged down a yellow car.

“You! Aye, YOU! Over here, damn it! I need t’get tae Westchester!� He looked bored until she took her life in her hands, yanking out a wad of bills and waving them furiously. His head perked up, and he rolled down his window.

“Where, ma’am?�

“Westchester. School for Gifted Youngsters! Och, just take me there! I’ll tell ye where t’go, an’ ye drive like a bat out of hell! HURRY!� She tripped across three lanes of traffic heading toward the gates and slammed the door shut after her. “GO!�

I’m comin’, Charley…


~0~

Logan had grown accustomed to the darkness in people’s souls, following and even creating a trail of blood that lingered, covering his hands.

The grisly scene before him hit him keenly, making his gut lurch because this time, it was a man he knew, lying on the ground and leaking blood over the gravel road. He skidded to a stop.

“No,� he growled. “No. Not you, Chuck, damn it, not YOU!� Charles lay still, but his eyes peered up at him, their irises growing glassy. He groaned, valiantly restraining himself from crying out. When Logan took his hand, his fingers didn’t squeeze back. His skin felt icy cold; he whipped off his thick jacket and laid it over his chest, covering the widening stain. “Chuck!�

“Look,� Charles whispered. “There.� He tore his eyes away and let them drift where Charles’ led.

I SEE YOU. The letters were scrawled in the professsor’s blood across the hood of the Rolls. Logan caught Vic’s scent, still warm. The beast roared through his blood, clawing its way up from his soul. He felt Charles’ ebbing pulse and tasted metal.

None of it, any of it, was worse than Jean’s shrill scream as Ororo’s Civic screeched to a stop.

And if he tried to catch her, she glided from him in an instant, not in the least afraid of him, but thinking, it part of the game not to be caught.


Her arms ached. That realization dogged her steps on the way up to her loft.

She couldn’t hold anyone, any more. In any sense.

“Darlin’?� He didn’t knock. She sighed, keeping her back turned to him. The light from the hallway outlined his body in her doorway and felt stark and glaring at her back. She laced her fingers behind her neck.

“I’m tired,� she informed him. Her voice was eerily calm. It unnerved him and made his already strained control fray even further.

“I know that, darlin’. So’m I.� He clenched his fists and cleared his throat. “Wanted ta check on ya.�

“Check on what?� she said simply. “What is there to say? Here I am. Now you can go.�

“I can’t. That’s where ya were wrong.�

“It’s easy enough, Logan, just move your feet.�

“I ain’t leavin’ ya alone.�

“You ARE leaving.� She turned slowly. Her eyes were cold but held no anger.

He wanted to shake her.

“I know what yer doin’, and ya need ta stop it, woman! Yer tryin’ ta shove it all down an’ hold it together. Ya’ve done nothin’ else, darlin’.� Her laughter was mirthless, stunning him.

“No. I’ve just been here. Waiting. Hoping my father pulls through, even though I already know in my soul he will. He will, Logan. You need to know that about him. There’s no one like Daddy.� She sauntered over to him, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. Exhaustion left dark circles beneath her blue eyes. “You don’t have to worry about my dreams anymore, Logan. I don’t sleep. But maybe you know that.�

“God, ‘Ro. Shit,� he hissed, planting his feet apart as if to bar her exit. She wasn’t moving.

“I don’t even really know why you’re here. I never have.�

“Ta help ya. Ta protect ya.�

“Protect me from what?�

“From losin’ yerself.�

“Bullshit,� she sniffed cavalierly. She turned her back on him again and headed for the large bay window as though dismissing him, but he heard rolling thunder, coming closer to the house.

“Are ya finished takin’ care of everyone else in the house yet, darlin’?�

“No,� she countered. “So why don’t you just go to bed?�

“Because I gave up sleepin’, too.�

“That’s too bad.�

“Needed ta come up an’ take care of somethin’ else, anyway.�

“What did you need to do all the way up here?�

“Hold ya.� She turned partially, only giving him her profile from over her shoulder. Lightning flashed across the sky and illuminated her delicate profile.

“Hold me,� she repeated in disbelief. He swallowed roughly and nodded.

“If yer done holdin’ everyone else fer the night. Ya’ve held up Jeannie and everyone else that’s been waitin’ fer Chuck ta improve. No one’s held you. No one’s comforted you, darlin’. Not like ya need ta be, because ya’ve convinced everyone ya don’t need it.� She faced him again and leaned her hip back against the sill.

“You want to hold me.� It wasn’t phrased as a question. Given their recent history, she was wholly skeptical.

“I need ta hold ya,� he corrected her. “And ya need me ta do it, too.�

“And you won’t take the easy way back downstairs unless I let you? Even if I want to throw you out the window without batting an eyelash?� She never raised her voice, or her fist. Everything was matter-of-fact and measured.

“Yer welcome ta try. Don’t wear yerself out.� She sighed. He rubbed his nape in customary fashion.

“Fine. If it will make you feel better, knock yourself out.� It socked him in the gut. He didn’t ponder it, didn’t hesitate. His boots carried him across the loft, thumping over the floorboards.

He embraced her, long and hard, groaning at the crush of her scent in his nostrils, her face buried in his throat where she sat. Obediently her own arms coiled around his waist as they took solace in each other’s drumming heartbeats. She felt the slow flex of his muscles, and his body radiated warmth, blanketing her.

He was taken back. Dragged headlong into the memory of cradling a vulnerable, sweet-smelling child in his arms, despite the pronouncement that he was a “mean man.� She was pure then. She was untouchable now, but what he wanted hadn’t changed. To protect her.

Of their own accord his fingers twined themselves in her ripples of hair; he reflexively rubbed his cheek in its softness. His voice rumbled in the dark.

“I know ya wanna get up and leave us. Maybe just a bit at a time. But I can feel it. Chuck wouldn’t want ya ta push everyone away. He loves ya. Back when we met, he went through hell ta find ya and bring ya back. If there was ever a worse night than that in yer life, darlin’, it was when ya found him in the woods. I know that ‘cuz it was mine.�

“I won’t care about you.� The words stabbed him. He scowled but didn’t let her go. “I can’t.�

“Why?� Her voice sounded wistful and sad. Like the little girl she’d once been.

“You’ll leave. Everyone I care about leaves. So I can’t care about you. Anyone who tries to save me gets hurt. When it’s time for you to leave, you can just leave.� Nowhere in those words did she say that she would get hurt. Her hands fisted in the back of his flannel shirt. She absently burrowed closer to his comforting heartbeat, like a child nesting in its mother’s womb. His hard, warm barrel chest was familiar and solid beneath her cheek. “You can’t save me.�

“Then ya know ya need ta be saved,� he replied.

“I can’t care about you,� she repeated dully. Outside, a cloudburst drenched the grounds, hitting the statuary in Charles’ gardens with hard slaps.

They both knew it was a lie.

“Ya don’t hafta be so hard and strong every goddamned minute of the day, darlin’.�

“If I don’t, then who will?� He felt her pulling back from him, even though she didn’t immediately release him. “You?� Her blue eyes held challenge and aloofness.

“Can’t remember a moment in my life when I didn’t hafta be.�

“Neither can I.�

“That’s where yer wrong, darlin’.� He brushed back a lock of her hair, letting his fingertips graze the crown of her cheek. “There were plenty of people takin’ care of ya, guardin’ ya like watchdogs the night Charles took ya away from Cairo.� She let go of him completely, dropping her hands in her lap. “Up until that night, ya were trustin’. Innocent, and just a vulnerable little girl barely old enough to lose a tooth. Ya shoulda had a helluva lot longer ta stay that way.�

“Tell me more, O Wise One,� she mocked harshly, folding her arms over her chest again and borrowing her own nickname for Jean. “What makes you such an expert on innocence and trust? Shit…where did Dad even find you? You think you know so much about me. What about you? Don’t tell me you’re just a handyman.�

“Nope. Not just a handyman. And fer a while, not such a nice man, either. Ya had me pegged when ya said I was mean. I fought. I was a soldier fer my country. Than a soldier fer hire. A merc.�

“How did you and Dad meet?�

“He was havin’ a drink and some R&R at a bar owned by the guy I worked for. He needed a guy like me.�

“Like you.�

“Someone who was good at getting in, doing the job, and getting out.�

“Ah. That’s clear as mud.� He sighed. They had a wary staring contest in the darkness. A brief flare of lightning outside cast them both in a blue-white glow.

“I ran guns. Did ‘collections’ work if ya wanna call it that. When it was time ta pay the piper, they paid me, and I paid Farouk.� Now she scowled.

“Farouk…� She tested the word on her lips, and her accent deepened, becoming more prominent. “Uncle.� Cold prickles washed over Logan and knotted his gut. Her eyes flitted over his face, asking silent questions. “Why do I feel like I should call him that?�

“Ya shouldn’t. And that’s all ya need ta know. I’ll leave ya alone.�

“Now you run.�

“Uh-uh. Now I leave ya in peace. Like ya wanted me ta do.� His body drew itself tight, thrumming with tension and unease. The gruesome truth of her past and his hand in the bloodshed clawed at him, fighting to erupt from his lips. He hated himself as he turned his back on her and strode for the door.

He bumped a small side table on his way there. Something small fell onto the floor, barely making a sound. He bent to retrieve it; the worn fabric felt flimsy and soft in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he studied it; she felt the change in him, the weakening of his stance.

“At least ya got ‘Moy-Rah’ ta keep ya company.� He set the doll on the table, propping her awkwardly into a sitting position. She looked stunned. She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

“How the hell do you know my doll’s name?�

“Ya were ready ta kill me for her. Wasn’t til I came abroad an’ met Doc that I found out ya named her after yer mother.� He thoughtfully tweaked the doll’s bedraggled curls. “G’night, ‘Ro.�

~0~

That following dawn found him tramping around in the bush, scanning the perimeter of the woods on foot.

Vic’s scent was scattered but strong. He managed to trace his footsteps in the gravel on the road, easily separating his from the Professor’s, growling under his breath at the blood stains where Vic had dropped him, and dropped him hard.

Charley was a good man, one worthy of his respect. No one deserved what Vic did to him. The only crime he’d ever committed was trying to save an innocent little girl from the Devil in his vile, human form.

Render unto Caesar, that which is Caesar’s.

Logan knew Farouk still regarded Ororo as his possession. He’d sent Vic to collect a debt.

And to teach Logan a lesson. He couldn’t kill Logan. Not in the old-fashioned way. But he could make him wish he was dead.

He tracked his pungent trail through the thicket, looking for signs of blood and traces of Charles’ scent that he would have carried back with him. He finally managed to find a gravel path back to the main road, about two miles out where ugly black skid marks wriggled over the asphalt like snakes. So he came on foot, probably driving in from downtown. He continued to pick his was through the brush, looking for any other sign. Vic was sloppy, something the twisted fuck’d never admit. Thought the sun rose and set on his dirty ass.

Bingo.

“Exhibit A,� Logan muttered as he plucked the tiny Hertz rental business card from the ground. It was slightly curled from spending time in the confines of a snug jeans pocket over a long trip. He had a phone call to make.

He waited until he was back inside the sedate car he’d borrowed from Charles’ garage, with the windows rolled up to mask the sounds of the outdoors. A young female voice chirped at him, “Hertz Rent-a-Car, how may I help you today?�

“Yeah. How ya doin’, Miss? This is Vic. Victor Creed,� he emphasized, scratching his chest. “Wanted ta see how much ya’d charge me if I rented the car another coupla days. Some business came up. Wanted ta see the sights.�

“Hmmm. Let’s see…when did we rent you the car?�

“Four days ago.� Logan hoped she didn’t call his bluff.

“Creed, Creed…� she muttered. He listened to her clicking away at her keyboard, murmuring the spelling of Creed’s last name under her breath and thinking out loud. “Blue Ford Cobra, right?�

“Yup.�

“Care to verify your birthday for me, so I can update your account?�

“February 14th,� he grumbled sourly. The irony was never lost on him, back when Vic told him that over tequila shooters. Logan couldn’t even remember his own birthday, something that might have served him well, after all.

“All righty! Can I charge the same Amex card we have on file, Mr. Creed?�

“That’ll be fine and dandy, darlin’, I’d appreciate that.� She giggled. More hectic typing followed.

“There we go. Would you like a confirmation number?�

“Lay it on me.� He dug for a pencil and scratched the digits she rattled off onto the back of the card.

“And is this the same number where we can reach you for a reminder of when to turn in the keys?� She read it off. Logan’s smile was hard and mean.

“Thank ya so much, darlin’. Place is lucky to have a sharp cookie like you on the phone.�

“Oh, that’ sweet! Enjoy your stay in Salem Center,� she chirped before they hung up.

“Gads,� Logan muttered. Whatever happened to information protection?

~0~

Moira’s voice was hoarse, but she never stopped humming.

“Well the cat’s in the cradle with a silver spoon, Little Boy Blue and the man in the moon…� she husked, stroking his cool, dry hand.

He’d always listened to it with a sense of irony. Charles never preferred much contemporary music, preferring to lose himself in the classics. But the occasional folk song that told a story would grab him and not let go.

“We’ll get together then…you know we’ll have a good time then,� she sang, until her voice died. There had been little change.

She cried. She yelled at him. She bullied him. And he continued to linger in and out of consciousness. She feared sleep, shunning it. An hour of sleep threatened to miss what precious minutes he spent awake.

“Love ye every day of me life, Charley. I dinna think badly of ye for a second. Know that.� She offered him an answer to his pleas he’d made through Jean at the time of his attack. Last words, she knew, were how he’d planned them.

Horror mingled with heartbreak that he honored her with such a gift. For her. For her.

She was greeted at the school by a harried looking Mr. Ramsey, Charles’ gardener, followed by his son Douglas.

“Please, Dr. Mactaggert, come inside! Stevie doesn’t look too good, she took a bad fall in the kitchen,� he stammered breathlessly.

“HUSH now, lad! What happened tae Charley? TELL ME!� She grabbed his father’s arm roughly. Her eyes were desperate green orbs, overwhelming the piquant lines of her face. She held him in a death grip unexpected in someone so delicate looking.

“He hasn’t come back here,� he replied fearfully. “Stevie said that Jean went directly to him. Spoke with her mind.�

“Aye, lad, that much I know! Och, sweet Mary, mother of God! He…he was going tae meet me at the airport…� The weight of the day was beginning to hit her; Doug and his father saw her about to collapse. They both flanked her and eased her to the front steps.

“Here, now, pay him,� she rasped, handing them the thick wad of bills. Douglas dutifully gave the whole of it to the cab driver, who chose to speed away from the drama.

Moira!

“Jean!� Mr. Ramsey looked flummoxed as Moira turned away from them and began talking aloud. She held up her hand to him to remain silent so as not to break her concentration.

We’re with him. We followed the ambulance. Scott and me. You’ll meet him…oh, God, Moira! Oh, God! It was horrible, and…and…

“It’s all right, lass!

No. It’ll never be all right again. It won’t. A lead weight settled in Moira’s chest, clogging it. She felt cold and frighteningly hollow.

“I’m coming.�

Come quick. Moira nodded to the Ramsey men, and the senior of them ran directly to the garage to collect a sedan. She gave Douglas detailed instructions of how they could be reached over the next few hours and sternly ordered him to stay with Stevie.

That was the beginning of her nightmare.

They briefed her on his condition, reading the anguish on her face and the stubborn set of her shoulders. “Dinna fash yuirself, in some attempt tae gentle the blow! I’m a doctor, for God’s sake! Tell me EVERYTHING!�

Each word was a stinging blow. Spinal ruptures. Crushed vertebrae. Compound fractures in both legs and clavicle. A broken nose and a puncture wound in his cheek, thankfully not high enough to compromise his skull. Multiple open wounds.

“I need tae see him.�

“Ma’am…�

“DOCTOR!� she cried raggedly. “Ye will na’ keep me from seein’ my Charley! Miserable bastards! I flew over the bluidy ocean tae see him, an’ look what happened tae the poor man! Ye dinna know what day it is,� she hissed bitterly. Tears pooled in her eyes but didn’t fall. “Check his wallet. Tell me what day it is.� The hapless RN stared at her.

“Er, Doctor, let us know how you want to handle his personal effects while he’s here…�

“Look in his wallet, aye, and tell me what day it is.� The RN quietly led her into the triage room, where they’d temporarily left his abandoned, ruined suit jacket. She reached into the pocket with gloved fingers, looking to Moira for permission.

She handed the wallet to her silently, waiting for her to open the snap. Moira’s trembling fingers extracted his driver’s license.

“It’s his bluidy birthday. An’ someone tried tae kill him. They might have bluidy well succeeded. So I have one thing tae tell ye, lass: Yuir goin’ tae let me see Charley before ye take him into surgery, or by all that’s holy, I’ll walk into that operating room, put on some scrubs, and do the bluidy surgery meself.� They shared a long, heavy look between them.

The RN nodded numbly and tucked Charles’ ID back into his wallet, restoring it to his jacket. “Our daughter will come tae take his things home when she gets here. Dinna expect her tae leave any time soon once she does.� She preceded the nurse out of the room. “She’s not as nice as I am, lass.�

She wouldn’t be spared the gruesome spectacle of him lying so still, battered and broken beneath the sodden white blanket. He wasn’t conscious. She was thankful for that, at least, but her heart and stomach both pitched.

“Charley,� she whimpered, finally letting the tears fall. “Och, Charley! Baby!� The LVN’s assisting him into surgery paused long enough, adjusting his IVs, to let her approach and take his hand. “I know ye can hear me, Charles! So ye know verra well that I expect ye tae tell me yuir going tae be fine in yuir own words!� She kissed his limp fingers. “Promise me.� She gently laid his hand over his abdomen and barely stroked his brow, afraid to touch him more than gingerly.

“We’ll take care of him,� his surgeon assured her, gently urging her to back away from the gurney.

“Aye. Ye will.� All hint of tenderness was gone. She was brittle, in charge, and not someone he wanted to fuck with.

She held her vigil stoically until Jean arrived with Ororo. The two women caught each other’s gaze and Jean collapsed into her lap, fueling Moira’s pent-up grief. Their sobs were loud and harsh; the neighboring occupants of the waiting room shied away and watched them with pity.

“So…much blood,� Jean whimpered into her blazer.

“Och, lass, hush!� Moira chided her. Jean swallowed and wiped her tears, finally seating herself beside her on the vinyl upholstered bench. “Tell me, but not that way.�

It was the worst thing I ever saw.

We were afraid we wouldn’t get there in time, Mummy. Jean had drawn Ororo into their rapport. Ororo flanked Moira’s other side and held her protectively, like a mother bird sheltering its baby. It was still unnerving, feeling the solid presence of the girl who’d been so fragile when they’d met, supporting her when she needed it. It humbled her, and it made her feel ancient.

You were with him, lass? He saw you, could reach you?

Yes. We didn’t get there in time to keep him from being attacked.

Ye tried, lass.

They wanted us to find him, Mum.

What d’ye mean, Ororo?

Whoever it was left a message. I See You.

Bluidy hell!

Moira, I need to share some things with you. Things Professor Xavier meant for you to hear. She temporarily broke the link among the three of them and channeled her impressions from the frantic drive home into Moira’s mind. Ororo contemplated them as she thumbed through a dog-eared magazine, not reading it. She felt slightly resentful at being cut out of the communication.

I’m a telepath, Moira. Feeling his pain…it was as though it happened to me. I felt him nearly die. I held onto him as hard as I could.

“I know, Jean, I know,� Moira soothed, squeezing her hand.

No, Moira. I held his soul. I made him promise not to leave, not until you finally came to him. The rest is up to him.

“Jesus,� she whispered, sagging against Ororo as her strength left her. She cradled Moira across her lap and fanned cool air on her face while Jean hopped up to fetch some water.

~0~

“Ye promised me a ride on Amelia, Charley,� Moira reminded him now as she adjusted his blankets. She continued to hold his hand, fondly stroking his cheek above where it was trussed up with a thick bandage. His eyes were still swollen and bruised. His lids didn’t even twitch as she continued her monologue. “Spent so much time, aye, braggin’ t’me about what a smooth ride she gives. Ororo spoils that mare, from what Jean said.�

Ororo was the only other visitor allowed in the ICU. She had the benefit of being named as his daughter on his medical records and next-of-kin, but it was cold comfort. She spelled Moira for meals. Neither woman wanted to leave, but they dutifully attended him in shifts.

Once in a while, they would hear his thoughts as he fought his way back from the darkness. It gave them hope.

It was soon Ororo’s turn by his bedside. She took his hand, drawing comfort from the contact.

“So Dad,� she began, making her tone almost flippant. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Logan.� She sighed and shook her head.

“Why on earth does he think he has to save me?�

She felt him gently pushing back at her with his thoughts, confirming that he heard her, even if he couldn’t yet speak. Ororo drifted back to last night. How he said he needed to hold her.

She still felt the soft brush of his flannel shirt against her cheek, and his heartbeat thudding beneath it.


~0~

The bar was packed. Logan waded his way toward the back. The crowd seemed to part, making way for the sullen loner with dangerous eyes. His boots thudded over the hardwood floor, and he approached the table nearest the dart boards. He sighed.

“H’lo, Vic.� Glittering eyes peered back up at him. Vic tsked with disgust and tipped his drink back, draining the shot and slamming it back on the table. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Hey, asshole.�

All in that instant, Logan remembered back to the first day, the first moment that he met Vic.

They were stationed in Italy. Vic had been complaining that the tattoo he’d blown fifty bucks on faded away by the next morning. Logan had a disappointing morning waiting for the post. Mariko still hadn’t returned any of his letters, and he realized with a heavy heart and sense of irony that it was for the best.

Vic was a man of few words but of many clichés. “The more things change, the more they stay the same, runt. Sometimes their side won. Sometimes they lost. Either way, both men walked away from it all and kept coming back the next day. They saluted fallen comrades and buried their dead. They held the hands of the wounded and winked at pretty girls as they came and went. They wooed them with candy and silk stockings and the promise of a ride downtown in the Army-issue Jeeps on any day sunny enough to ride in the open-topped vehicle and feel the wind in their hair.

His smile had reminded Logan of a shark’s. Vic cut a dash in the snug-fitting uniform and managed not to look incongruously big in it, despite the fact that he stood seven feet tall.

Kinda short fer a soldier, aintcha, runt?

Long enough where it matters, sweet cheeks, he’d shrugged simply.

They developed something of a friendship. Logan made the rest of the men in their unit nervous; Vic scared the shit out of them. Neither of them left families behind. Logan was proud to serve his country; Vic was a man without a country, having slipped through customs and registered by someone desperate to get his muscle on their side and into a uniform.

War made them brothers.

Farouk made them puppets.

Fate made them reach an impasse in a crowded, dank little bar. The whiskey stank mingled with Creed’s own sour, metallic musk.

“Ya in a hurry ta get this over with?�

“Me? Eh,� Logan drawled, shrugging and pulling out a chair that raked across the floor boards with a squeak. “M’thirsty.� He beckoned to an over-made up waitress and nodded to Creed’s empty glass. “One of what he just had, neat.� She looked him up and down and cracked her gum.

“Anything for you, baby.�

“Awwwww, I just know yer gonna take such good care of me,� he flirted back, shooting her a wolfish smile. There was a No Smoking sign above the bar, but Logan figured he had at least three minutes before anyone approached him to put it out. He inhaled the mellow, pungent fumes of his Cuban; Vic’s glittering eyes watched the brief orange flare of Logan’s Zippo lighting the end.

“This where ya tell me ‘no hard feelings,’ Vic?�

“Nope. Ain’t about feelin’s when money’s on the table,� Vic sniffed, leaning back and dangling his arm over the edge of his chair. Logan nodded sagely.

“Right, right.�

“Render unto Caesar,� Vic murmured.

“This ain’t like our old jobs for that fat fucker. Charley don’t owe him anything.� He didn’t believe it. Vic smelled the lie.

“He owes him back his toy. Bet that little chickadee’s grown into a sweet little piece by now. She’s ripe, ain’t she? Mmmmmmm. Still young enough ta turn a man’s head. They ain’t too jaded yet once they’re barely legal like she is right now.� Bile rose in the back of Logan’s throat, and he saw Vic through a red haze of rage. His disgust boiled just beneath his skin. He knew that Vic knew he was getting to him.

“Never knew what Farouk wanted with a kid,� Logan wondered aloud. The waitress cruised back with his drink and thunked it down on a tiny, useless napkin. The table was already scarred with graffiti, some of it carved into its surface.

“Ya’ve never wondered what he wanted with any of ‘em before, runt.� He stared at Logan’s drink enviously, but he was mellow. His nerves and muscles were alert. The run smelled ready to throw down. The bar was crowded, leaving him more open options than he knew what to do with. “Yer gonna feed me some line of bullshit next that ya grew a soul.�

“Yer rentin’ yers.� Logan savored the sting and burn of the whiskey as he tipped it back, finishing it in one smooth gulp.

“Man’s gotta make a livin’.�

“Ya kissed bein’ a man goodbye.�

“Hypocrite,� Farouk muttered through Victor Creed’s lips. Logan felt his hairs stand on end at the change in his voice, inflections and accent. When he met Vic’s amber gaze, there was a foreign light burning in his eyes, and a sardonic quirk to his lips. “You and Victor are cut from the same cloth, my friend. The same passions, the same appetites, and you share his same affinity for complete abandon of your baser impulses. Including murder,� he added.

“Then ya ain’t been payin’ much attention, ya old bloat,� Logan argued. His heart was still rattling in his chest. “I ain’t Vic. I ain’t that easy a mark. Y’see, it ain’t my skull yer squattin’ in right now.� He tapped his temple. “I don’t let just anyone in here. Vic ain’t much of a challenge. Give him a box of free cigarettes, Farouk, and he’ll bend over an’ lick yer boots.�

“So I just haven’t named your poison yet, is that it, Logan?� Victor’s body leaned over the table toward him, and Logan watched his eyes dilate slightly with anticipation. “How much does your soul cost?�

“Yer money’s no good here.�

“You wound me.�

“Nah.� Logan cracked his knuckles, one at a time, savoring the sickening pop of each joint. “That comes later.�

“Crass little man. You know what I’m talking about. Or who I’m talking about.� Logan narrowed his eyes.

“Motherfucker,� he spat under his breath.

“You don’t believe in coincidences or fate, or in anything bigger than yourself, sitting in the background and writing the script, moving the pieces. You have no imagination, Logan, and that’s why you’ll eventually yield. You want the girl. Or should I say, the woman? Comely, isn’t she?�

Logan said nothing. Farouk took the opportunity to bait him some more.

“Now you know how I feel, standing on the other side of the glass, seeing her glory but still being unable to touch her.� He stared down at Vic’s hands. They were broad and thick with long fingers. When he fisted them, they were almost pawlike. He opened them again and flicked Victor’s coarse, thick talons like a woman admiring her new manicure. “That’s how it’s been, til now. Charles got ahead of himself, believing he could stand between myself and the child all these years. We’re too evenly matched. Charles has a firm lock on the horrors of her deepest, oldest memories, whereas I have a lock on her emotions. Particularly her fear. No one understands little Ororo as well as I do,� he mused.

“Ya’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking,� Logan snarled, disgusted. “You an’ Charley…ya’ve been havin’ a showdown in her head??�

“No,� Farouk sighed, shaking Vic’s tangled mane of blond hair in denial. “I’ve merely attempted to assume the rights of ownership, and Charles has fought me. You remember the night of my demise,� he prodded with no lack of humor. “This is but a shell.� He stared into Vic’s open palms again, making a thoughtful sound. “The spirit world is my playground. A realm, if you want to call it that. Flesh is weak, but it has its uses. Its pleasures, true, but limits that are cruel and unfair. Victor has expansive tastes when it comes to flesh. Nothing’s repugnant or off-limits. We’ve been easy bedfellows.�

“Don’t need that picture in my head,� Logan snorted. Farouk tsked.

“Cretin.�

“Leave the girl alone.�

“Or you’ll do what? Kill me?� Victor threw back his head and laughed, booming and sonorous, exposing fanglike canines. “Oh, that’s rich!�

“It don’t hafta be about killin’. Might just be about pain. Carved my initials in Vic’s ass before,� Logan pointed out. “Ain’t no love lost between me an’ him. Might make it harder for ya ta live vicariously through Vic’s dick if I cut it off. Don’t matter that he can grow it back. It’ll still sting.�

“Do your best. It’s six of one, half a dozen of the other,� Farouk shrugged. “Either way, you lose. Charles loses. Charles is fighting me even now; his body’s weak and nearly gone, but he doesn’t care. Don’t you see? His living body is an anchor that holds him back from staying in my realm with me permanently. That foolish woman who presumes to call herself the child’s mother has also made herself a nuisance. He still loves her, so he’s fighting against me, while he holds on, for her.� Logan studied him.

“Eh. So lemme get this straight, Farouk…Charley ain’t as strong as he’d be if he were dead ta kick yer ass. His body, I mean.� Victor’s face lost its smugness. “Thanks fer the tip.�

Logan was up in a flash, skidding backwards in his chair. Deftly he flipped up the edge of the heavy table, smashing Vic in the face and knocking him to the floor. He ignored the startled cries and warnings that rippled through the crowd. Several of them eyed the two men with undisguised interest.

“FIGHT!� bellowed a voice by the bar, and then all hell broke loose.


~0~

“I made you this, Jean. Here.� Scott hovered over her in the study, where Jean leaned into the nook of the window seat and watched the clouds roll across the sky. Concern painted his features, and she smelled chamomile and mint from the steaming mug he held. A slow smile spread across her lips. The afternoon sun set her copper waves of hair ablaze. Scott’s mouth went dry.

“Jean,� Scott began, searching her face. “How are you holding up?�

She opened her mouth to reassure him, but all that came out was a choked sob. Bit by bit she fell apart, and he removed the mug from her shaking hands, helping her to narrowly avoid a scald. Her hands felt like ice within his strong ones once the tea rested safely on the desk. Tears blinded her and rolled in torrents down her cheeks, and she felt the shift in her physical space as he knelt beside her.

He opened his mouth to offer her comfort, but she shook her head, and she brushed slender fingers over his lips to silence them.

No. Don’t. It won’t help. He heard the words in his mind and watched her lips grimace as she sobbed.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jean.

I feel so helpless. It’s not right. No one should see what we did, Scott. No one should do such a thing to a human being.

I know, baby.

Their rapport was immediate and borne of need. He no sooner reacted to her emotions than she felt his response, like wading in a warm pool.

I felt Charles when Victor…you know. It was horrible. I can’t even describe it. I was being ripped apart. And those eyes were like a lion’s. And his teeth! I felt and heard and smelled and saw everything Charles did. He was so afraid, Scott.

I don’t blame him. Or you.

Scott’s thumb gently stroked her hand, and Jean drew tangible comfort from his presence. Her body inclined itself toward his, giving him silent permission to rest his forearm against her knee. They were so close they nearly shared breath.

I was staring pure evil in the face. And he laughed. His laugh was awful, he was so pleased with himself, and he just wouldn’t let me go. Or Charles. And the Professor, he’s so stubborn, and so determined. He was nearly gone, but he wouldn’t leave. He called out to me. He wouldn’t leave Moira. Or Ororo. He won’t leave anyone who needs him.

And neither would you.

Scott’s expression was soft, and his touch was tender as he smoothed back a lock of her hair, grazing her cheek with his fingertips. Jean was fragile beneath his touch, and his manner was reverent. She sniffed back more tears, and he wiped away a fresh one before it could trickle into the corner of her mouth.

I just feel unsafe. He’s still out there. He was so close to the house, Scott, he could come after the Professor or any of us…

I’m here. And Ororo might have something to say about that. I don’t want to get on her bad side anytime soon…

Jean’s burst of laughter was short but precious. Her eyes were still brimming, but her body relaxed.

I’m a mess. Look at me!

“I am looking at you, Jean,� he replied aloud, and he completed his task, slowly wiping away the tearstains down her cheeks, flicking away the ones that threatened to leak from her eyes.

You’re so beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off of you.

Scott…

Her smile faded and he watched her throat work as she swallowed. Her bottle green eyes roamed over him, drinking him in hungrily and with great appreciation. Jean felt a warm rush of security and trust that wrapped around her, both from his emotions and his proximity. He was fresh-scrubbed and well-groomed, adding to her impression as being someone she could be comfortable – even vulnerable – around. She explored the planes of his lean jaw and his soft waves of chestnut brown hair, and the way he cocked his head as he listened to her words, spoken and unspoken.

Her fingertips caressed his lips.

You don’t have to use these to talk with me, Scott.

No?

I have a much better use for them right now.

He was already cocking his head up toward her mouth just as she was leaning down for a kiss. It was sweet and tentative; he hesitated and waited patiently for the brush of her lips, and then he accepted her invitation. Her lips were supple and pillowy soft, and she tasted faintly of apples. He sucked her lower one between his and heard her low moan of appreciation that yes, could he please continue?

She kept their rapport open, drinking in his emotions and offering him her own. She radiated contentment and satisfaction, where he gave her admiration and open wonder. Scott’s hand rose up to cup her nape and comb through her silky sheaves of red hair, and she adjusted herself so he could wrap his arm around her waist.

Ororo found them that way, looking as though she’d need a chisel and crowbar to pry them apart.

“Ahem…� Both of them sprang apart and looked thorough guilty and flushed. Ororo smothered a chuckle when she noticed that Scott’s glasses were crooked. Jean noticed it, too, and automatically reached out to straighten them. He rose to his feet.

“Uh, hey, Ororo, what’s going on?�

“Nothing here,� she said sweetly, and the corner of her mouth curled impishly. Oh, but she’d caught them, and caught them good!

“Scott was, uh…tea.�

“Huh?� Scott looked oblivious, before it dawned on him. “Oh, tea. Brought her some. Uh-huh,� he gestured, nodding to the abandoned, cooling cup on the desk.

“Mmmmm. Because you were thirsty.� Jean’s look was murderous, and she snapped her eyes at Ororo to silence her, but her sister was relentless. “But it was too hot? It doesn’t look like you touched it, Jean.�

“Er…I burnt my tongue?�

“So Scott had to check that it wasn’t hurt?� This time a grin was threatening to erupt on Scott’s lips, but he stifled it down to a mere twitch.

“Oh, not too badly. Right, Jean?�

“Oh. Right. Not, er, bad at all.� Jean rose and straightened her skirt, which was slightly wrinkled from the way Scott so comfortably, greedily situated himself before.

“I might head to the kitchen for some tea myself. How was it, Jean?�

“Huh?� Her expression was dreamy as she and Scott shared a look, practically ignoring Ororo. “How was what?�

“The tea,� Ororo sighed patiently.

“Oh. The tea.� Now Jean allowed herself a smile, but her eyes were still riveted on Scott. “Absolutely delicious. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a cup of tea more.�

You’re blushing.

So are you.

“Y’all are so busted,� Ororo announced cheerfully.


~0~

“Ye realize, Charley, that now it’s fifteen games of chess ye owe me. Ye haven’t woke up yet, so ye can’t argue with me. Ye would do well, aye, tae wake up before I make it sixteen.� Moira was watching over him and engaging in her usual nagfest that began at dawn and didn’t usually end until the wee hours of the night.

She scolded him. She kissed him. She gripped his hand and yelled at him with equal fervor. He seldom stirred. His nurses came and went to check on him and chart his progress, despite her assertions that she was a doctor, but Stevie insisted she have some respite from her vigil to take care of herself.

He looked placid and serene.

“Ye always were bluidy stubborn, Charley,� she mused as she stroked his cheek with the back of her index finger. Almost imperceptibly, she could have sworn he leaned into her light touch. “Uppity and full of yuirself, aye. And ye thought ye were the one tae ask me out for a lager at Muldoon’s, but ye were wrong again, Mr. Smartypants. Ye were slickly maneuvered,� she informed him cheerfully. “I had me eye on ye from day one. I gave ye a false sense of security and let ye just think I wanted tae argue and debate genetic aberrations with ye tae prove ye wrong. I had a secret agenda,� she admitted. “Ye thought ye were so clever, lad. I fooled ye, didn’t I? Ye ordered a pint and just sipped at it ‘til I showed ye how it should be done.� Moira’s boast was delivered through trembling lips, and she wiped away more of the despised tears. “Ye were never even much of a drinker, Charley, because ye were always so sensible and had a stick up yer bum! Until ye enlisted and left me! I loved ye so much, Charles! I still do! Yuir such a bleeding sod and a bastard for leaving me like this, when I love you so much! Come back! Dinna leave me!�

Her tears dripped onto his wrist as she held his hand, curling his fingers around hers in the hope that he’d squeeze back.

“And…there’s something I never told ye, m’luv. It’s about Kevin,� she whispered. “He wasn’t Joe’s, which I think God in heaven above for. He never looked like him. His whole way of carrying himself, even as a young lad, was so much like you. That same stubborn look and eyes that see through ye, that’s my Kevin.� She snuffled back threatening mucus and reached for a Kleenex on the side table. “He’s ours, Charley. I dinna know how else tae tell ye. If ye knew about him, ye would’ve come for him, I know. Yuir about duty and doin’ right by any yuir beholden tae, but that wasn’t how I wanted ye, Charles. I loved ye so much, but I was Joe’s, and it was too late. I didn’t want ye tae swoop down and rescue me. I was going tae get out from under Joe’s foot by my own efforts, or I wasn’t worthy of ye.�

Moira listened to the infernal ticking of the clock and sighed, straightening up.

“What would ye have done if ye knew, Charley? What could both of us have done? Ye’ve seen the schematic of his chamber. It’s not even a room for him, it’s a miserable bluidy cell. It’s the best I could do. He despises me for what I had tae do tae keep him stable.�

He doesn’t hate you…

Moira’s heart skipped in her chest, and she felt a cold rush of tingles and euphoria.

“Charles…� she whispered. “I know yuir in there, Charley! Talk to me,� she urged, “talk to me!� She gently slapped his hand and shook it.

Moira. You’re there?

“Aye! Och, Charles, please, for the love of heaven, will ye WAKE UP?�

Can’t. Caught. Can’t leave.

“Ye have tae come back!�

Our daughter needs me. I’m with her. She doesn’t understand how, but she feels me. And I’m with Logan.

“How?� she cried.

I can’t talk for long. I love you. She caressed his smooth brow and nodded desperately.

“Promise me ye will come back t’me,� she ordered.

I can’t promise that. Know this. Everything’s uncertain right now. Farouk’s not gone. He’s responsible for this. He destroyed my body. Now he wants to destroy my mind. He still wants Ororo.

“Ye said yuir with Logan? Why, Charles? I haven’t seen that ruffian all day, and I still dinna understand fully why ye brought him here!�

There isn’t much time, sweetheart! Logan’s in the city. He’s fighting Farouk.

“Impossible. Ye did away with Farouk!�

His mind lives on. And he’s found himself a vessel. The same man who attacked me the day you arrived. I know this man, Moira. He’s still dangerous, and he possesses skills like Logan’s. Enhanced senses. He’s a keen hunter, but he takes great joy in the kill. He lacks compunction or conscience of any kind.

“Holy Mother of God,� she gasped. “Why haven’t ye said anything til now, Charles?�

I’m spreading myself too thin. Farouk’s distracted. That gave me an opening that I needed, but I need to go! I’m sorry! His tone sounded guilty and full of remorse for the secrets he’d had to keep, but Moira felt as though she’d been no better, keeping the secret of Kevin’s paternity hidden for so long.

Later. Recriminations could wait.

“I am, too, Charley! I love you! I love you, you miserable bastard!�

Wench… His voice in her head was fond and warm. Then he was silent.


~0~

“Ororo, where’s Jean? I told that child we were having dinner at five. She said she’d help me snap these beans,� Stevie complained, nodding to a huge colander of greens in the sink.

“I’ll do it,� Ororo decided easily. “Jean’s occupied.�

“With what?� Stevie inquired, hands on her hips.

“Scott,� she replied dryly. Ororo helped herself to a glass of orange juice, deciding tea wasn’t what she really wanted, anyway…

Well, maybe not tea the way Jean was having it.

Stevie snorted, then tsked. “Mmp, mmp, mmph. Y’all better stay outta trouble. I’m not your momma, Ororo, or Jean’s, but I don’t want either of you two getting involved in any mess or hanky panky. Bad enough when you get too ‘free’ with running around undressed…� Ororo cocked her brow over her glass. Stevie pouted and crossed her arms under her breasts. The sentiment of “You know I’m talking to you� was loud and clear in her brown eyes. Gray hairs had began insinuating themselves into Stevie’s dark braids over the years. She blamed Ororo for every single one.

“Where’s Logan?� Now Stevie rolled her eyes and threw up her hands.

“And don’t even ask me about HIM. He went stomping out of the house about an hour ago. Didn’t explain where he was headed, just said ‘I hafta tend ta some business’ like that was all I needed to know. Man’s so hardheaded and uppity,� she remarked as she turned back to the stove. Stevie drew a pan of golden cornbread from the oven and set it on a trivet.

“Was he upset?�

“Upset? Well…I don’t know. I guess. He really did look like whatever it was had to be pretty important. Like this.� Ororo snorted under her breath when Stevie imitated the look on his face, complete with the flat lip and scowling brows, and she chuckled low in her throat when Stevie added his burly walk.

“Heh. Right.� Ororo placed her glass in the sink. “I’ll be back down in a minute.�

“Good. Dinner isn’t making itself.� Stevie lifted the lid to the large pot of boiling potatoes and prodded one with a fork.

Ororo headed upstairs to look for something that she wouldn’t mind risking a stain on for the purpose of helping Stevie, but something diverted her steps. She detoured to the right, toward the end of the hall, instead of going up to her loft.

She felt a strange sense of comfort being in Logan’s room. The door hinge creaked slightly as she gently pushed it open, using as much caution as she would if the man were present. The room smelled faintly of leather – possibly his spare pair of boots, since his good pair was missing – and of his cigars. There was no ashtray, but even smoking on the balcony would leave a vestige of the pungent smell in his clothes. It didn’t bother her. It was just one more thing that she identified with Logan.

It was unnerving that she’d catalogued so many things to identify with him, lately. His walk, which Stevie did almost to perfection. He wasn’t a tall man, by any means, but he took up a lot of physical space, and he was imposing to look at. His favorite foods, for another thing. He was more often than not a meat and potatoes man, and he didn’t eat many sweets, except for fresh fruit or Stevie’s blueberry pancakes. Ororo and Jean were professed chocoholics, by contrast, and Scott had a weakness for pistachio ice cream. And then, of course, there was his Molson. Ororo wrinkled her nose at the metallic scent of old beer emanating from a bottle he hadn’t finished left on the dresser. She picked it up, noticing that the moisture was still condensed and dripping down the glass. It was still cooler than room temperature.

The room was spare and slightly messy. The bed was unmade, something that irked her. Ororo was the kind of person who made her bed as soon as she got out of it. Out of old habit she shucked the heavy comforter and blanket to better straighten the fitted and flat sheets, smoothing them with her palms.

Unwittingly she caught a whiff of his scent, that odd yet addictive little male smell, and her lips spread in a slow smile as she fluffed the pillow.

She wondered belatedly if he would think she was being too familiar by trespassing in his private place. She dismissed it; Jean would no doubt blush when Ororo eventually told her about her visit there, before asking for details about what it was like. Once the bed was finished, she peered around the room in curiosity.

There were no photographs, something that made her even more baffled. He really didn’t have a past, and his present was murky as mud. Half-burnt white candles rested on his dresser, and Ororo wondered about their purpose. He definitely didn’t seem like the romantic type.

“Why do I even care?� she muttered suddenly. Why, indeed, as long as he didn’t burn the house down.

She perused his desk, noticing an open Yellow Pages and some hastily scribbled notes on a lined steno pad. She picked up a battered business card for a rental car office that looked local.

“Weird,� she remarked softly. Logan had no qualms about borrowing any of Charles’ cars in the garage, particularly a Jeep that Stevie sometimes used to head downtown. She’d never seen him pull into the driveway in an unfamiliar car.

His handwriting was sharp and jagged, as though he’d slashed the words in a hurry. She made out Salem Hilton and a phone number for the front desk, as well as a name that looked like Creed. She tested it on her lips, wondering why it sounded familiar. Ororo rubbed her temples; she had a faint headache coming on.

She peered down at the open phone book. No surprise. He was looking up the local bars and taverns, she mused. He’d even circled the name of one…

“Hm.� Harry’s. She’d heard of it. And it was pretty close to the Hilton, so if he was meeting somebody…

More notes. The day’s date, and yesterday’s. Blue Cobra. She knew she definitely hadn’t seen a car like that around the grounds.

She didn’t have time to ponder it. Moira’s voice crying out downstairs turned her feet toward the door. She hurried back to the kitchen without hesitation.

“Och, Ororo! It’s yuir father!�

“Dad?� she replied, taking Moira’s hands. They felt like ice, and she felt Moira’s rapid pulse up the length of her arm. “What’s wrong with Daddy?�

“He’s trapped,� she answered gravely. “And he needs ye, lass. Ye need tae go an’ find Logan, quickly! He’s found Creed!�

“Who?� Ororo frowned at the mention of that name again.

“I kinna explain it right now, lass, there’s no time!�

“Mom…who’s Creed?�

“He’s the one who nearly killed Charles.� Moira’s green eyes were steely. “And we can talk about this later, lass. I love ye, and I need ye tae listen t’me. Find Logan. Take Jean an’ Scott wi’ ye and go! NOW!�

“I hear you, Moira,� Jean informed her calmly from the doorway. She felt the doctor’s stress and desperation before she even entered the hallway. Scott was close on her heels, looking grim and concerned.

“Don’t worry about finding him,� Ororo offered. Her voice was flat. “I know where Logan is. He left me a clue, and a note.�

“WHAT?�

“Maybe not directly,� Ororo amended, but her face was a mask. Thunder echoed through the sky, and the azure blue was slowly swallowed up by gray. Moira shivered. The lass was detaching herself already, and she knew that on some level it was her own fault, and Charles’.

“Dinna let Creed come back tae this school,� Moira cautioned them, “and don’t underestimate him, just because ye can read minds, fly and shoot. Any of ye.�

“What will you and Stevie do, Moira?� Jean asked.

“Protect Charley.�


~0~

It felt good to cut loose.

It had been years. Vic savored the thick slide of his talons through Logan’s flesh and the scent of his blood, tasting it when a rivulet of it spattered his lips.

“Damn tasty, runt!� he crowed. The frequent transition from Vic being in control to Farouk rearing his head and speaking through his mouth was a frustrating distraction. More often than not when Logan and Vic scuffled before, Logan would allow him first blood, knowing Vic was so hair-trigger he’d die for it. He craved it. That made him overconfident, coupled with his assumption that being bigger than Logan gave him an advantage. They were both old dogs, but Creed hadn’t learned new trick number one in more decades than Logan wanted to count.

Insanity erupted around them and raged on in a mass of flying beer glasses and pool cues. Women’s screams filled the bar as several of them crouched beneath tables and made their way toward the exit and the rest room.

Logan felt the smack of the floorboards at his back, knocking the air from his lungs. Vic landed on him like a medicine ball. His burly knees were locked around Logan’s ribs, and he was doing his level best to separate his head from his neck.

“Comfortable, asshole?�

“Idiot,� Logan hissed back, and he grunted as he brought up his leg in one clean swing, neatly clipping Vic in the back of the head. “Yer takin’ too many liberties, bub. I don’t wanna ever be that close ta yer nuts again.�

They rolled and buffeted each other in a ball of flailing limbs and claws.

SNIKT…

“Oh, my God, what are those coming out of his hands? Freak! FREEEAKK!� a woman shrieked, clutching the arm of a man behind her who was brandishing a pool ball. He turned and clutched his neighbor’s lapel, bidding him to look.

“Holy shit! He’s a mutie!� Vic bared his fangs at him and emitted a resonant growl. “MUTIES!� The patrons drank in the sight of the men who were peppered with tiny wounds and tears in their clothing, both of them looking feral and unwilling to argue.

The blond one’s expression changed, and the voice of the Devil himself poured out of his mouth.

“I crave your rage, puppets! Join my cause!� Farouk snarled. “This one is a nuisance to me…� He nodded down to Logan. Logan had Vic’s back pressed up against the wall.

“Fucker,� Logan spat. “Ya think yer gonna scare me by –“

“It’s not your fear I want.� Farouk gestured to the crowd, who were eyeing the two of them strangely. Slowly all of their eyes began to glow an eerie white, and they moved almost as one, drifting nearer the pair.

“As Farouk wills it,� the first woman who’d signaled Logan’s presence intoned dully.

“Damn,� Logan muttered. Once again, he’d underestimated his old boss, and now he was gonna have his tail handed to him.

He thought fast. He peered up into Vic’s cruel face. Vic’s smile was calculating and expectant.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere, bub,� he informed him.

“Try and stop me.�

SNIKT! There was a sickening, crushing sound as Logan’s claws shot through his own flesh and embedded themselves in Vic’s side, puncturing his kidneys. He impaled him and pinned him to the wall

“I said yer not goin’ anywhere.� Both men’s breathing was heavy and labored. Logan’s nostrils flared, and his sweat stung him from where it dripped into his cuts. Vic, impossibly, smiled more calmly than before.


~0~

Jean?

What is it, Scott?

Tell me again why we couldn’t drive?

This is faster. And Ororo needed this. Just be calm. I’m here with you. You’ll be all right.

His heart was still in his throat from their abrupt trip into the sky. The weather around them was turbulent and brisk, but Scott and Jean were saved from the tearing force of Ororo’s gale winds by Jean’s telekinetic bubble. Jean’s body was firm and warm in his arms as he held onto her for dear life. Ororo flew ahead of them as a guide and pilot, and her silver hair flowed out behind her. Her expression was stoic and her bearing was fierce. She was in her element. This was where she belonged.

They soared high through the clouds. It disoriented both of their friends, passing through huge gouts of mist and moisture so quickly and hearing the winds assail their ears, but it was an awesome thrill, being allowed into Ororo’s world. Jean only wished it weren’t for such grim purpose. They needed to get to Logan.

They began to descend as they came within sight of clusters of skyscrapers and ramshackle businesses. They were just shy of the garment district, and Scott and Jean found themselves enveloped in a fog so thick they couldn’t see their hands in front of their faces.

What’s happening?

Storm’s providing us with some cover. Don’t worry. She knows where she’s going. And if you just look over there, you can see her eyes. And he did, sure enough. They shone through the fog, bluish white and glowing with energy, and he saw how they softly illuminated her beautiful face.

They landed atop a dilapidated apartment building, old enough that its brick face was deteriorating, but it gave Scott a moment to catch his breath on solid ground. He hadn’t regained his land legs yet, and he felt slightly queasy.

“Easy now, Scott, you look a bit green,� Ororo pointed out, taking his arm to lend him support. She was stronger than he expected, and she shouldered her way under his arm. Jean wrapped her own arms around his waist, and the three of them floated down to the alley amidst the fog.

“Subway…next time,� he rasped. His pounding heart made his skin grow clammy, and Jean made a sound of sympathy. He staggered against her as Ororo let go, and Jean gently stroked his cheek.

“Harry’s. He’s at Harry’s,� Ororo announced. “C’mon.� The veil of mist began to lift slightly as they emerged into the street. Traffic was backed up to a halt in the wake of the fog, and the street was a cacophony of honking horns and idling engines.

The noise from the bar drowned everything else out, and Ororo watched a couple on the sidewalk narrowly duck a chair that flew out through the window, spraying the pavement with shattered glass.

“That’s Harry’s?� Scott quipped.

“That’s Logan’s car,� Ororo nodded, pointing to a Blue Mustang Cobra parked nearby, obviously by someone very brave or incredibly stupid.

“But he never came to the school in a car,� Jean argued.

“Just come on, Jean!� Jean bristled at Ororo’s impatience as she all but dragged them toward the tavern.

She didn’t have to wait that long. Logan was dragged out into the street by a handful of people grasping any of his limbs, neck or hair that they could reach. They looked like they were trying to tear him apart. He was bloody and haggard, but his face wasn’t that of the man they knew. His nostrils were flaring, he had the mad, dilated eyes of a feral beast, and his slightly prominent canines were bared, seeming longer than usual and razor-sharp. He was gnashing and growling his intentions to get loose by any means necessary.

His claws were out and streaked with blood. Jean looked sick, and Scott held onto her protectively, every nerve on edge.

Beside them, Ororo just stared at his claws. Her head began to throb, but she remained steady.

Blood…on his claws. She smelled beer and whiskey, mingled with the tang of his blood and smoke. A brief impression dripped into the pool of her memories and created ripples, but she couldn’t name it.

“Let him go,� she boomed. Her eyes glowed once more. Logan’s would-be executioners stared at her, strangely enough, with similarly glowing eyes, but they appeared unphased. Then thunder rumbled in the sky, and she opened her palms. Lightning danced from them and made her hair crackle in with energy.

“Damn, baby, look at you,� drawled a voice that evoked more memories…of…blood? “Ya’ve grown up ta be one fiiiiiiiine woman! Ain’t she, Patch? Mmm! Want me some’a that!� Vic staggered outside but then stood firm despite his grisly wounds. Blood saturated his long-sleeved thermal and coursed down the leg of his worn denims. More of it stained his blond tufts of hair in patches.

“You did this,� she accused bluntly.

“Ain’t the first time. Might be the last.�

“Sloppy.� She mustered her strength and called down gale-force wind. She harnessed it, seeming to grip it in her hand, and she lashed it at him like a whip. It struck him, wiping away his smug expression. She flung him back like a rag doll, pinning him to the side of a dry cleaner’s store.

“She attacked Farouk,� cried one of Logan’s captors.

“Ya think?� Logan shot back, struggling to get purchase without having to do more collateral damage against innocent – if bloodthirsty – strangers. It was nothing new to him. This was downtown New York during rush hour.

Scott deftly flipped up his glasses and aimed for the closest of the men anchoring Logan above their heads. A scarlet beam of force stunned him and took him out. Several sets of eyes leveled him, promising to come for his blood.

“Oh, no you don’t,� Jean told them, and one by one she helped Scott pick them off, tossing them aside roughly enough to knock them unconscious. Logan flew free but landed hard against a steel mailbox, hitting his head with a hollow clang.

“Ow…mother…fucker,� he groaned. “Thanks bunches, Summers.�

“You’ve taken down my toys,� Farouk murmured thoughtfully. His voice was resonant and overwhelming, easily heard over the noise from the street. Passerby ran for safety as they watched the strangers use powers they didn’t understand, and they saw Victor and Logan rise back up from what looked like mortal injuries before throwing themselves back in the fray.

“It’s yer turn next.�

“I doubt that. It would take a better man than you. I can break you, and Charles, with very little effort, even though he’s made a pathetic attempt at calling in reinforcements.� He eyed Jean and Ororo meaningfully. “They’re merely dessert. Hullo, child. You look delectable.� Vic’s eyes raked over Ororo’s supple form and stunning face as her hair rippled in the wind. She was still pulsing with electricity, and her face was sober and calm.

“I’m not a child,� she informed him. “And honestly, you sicken me.�

“That’s no way to greet your uncle Farouk, now, is it?� Ororo absorbed what he said, and Logan felt dread sink into his gut.

“Shit,� he muttered weakly. “Ororo, don’t listen to ‘im!�

Jean watched in disbelief as Ororo’s brows furrowed in confusion first, then recognition. “Uncle,� she murmured. “Uncle?�

Then she gasped in pain as the throbbing in her temples increased. She clutched her head and pressed firmly, willing it to stop.

“Don’t fight it,� Vic suggested helpfully. He was a fearsome sight. His smug smile and calm demeanor was at odds with the grisly hole in his side as he stalked forward. “I can make all of your pain and troubles go away, child. Just like I always have. You’re not afraid of me. You’re not afraid of anything.�

“I’m not,� she agreed, but she flinched for a moment. Jean was shaken. Ororo never flinched. Ever.

“You’ve always been my favorite, little Ororo, and the apple of my eye. You still enjoy dollies, yes?�

“Ororo, what is he talking about? Don’t listen to him!� Jean cried. Ororo was locked in a battle for another of the elusive memories, and she grimaced in pain.

“Moy-rah,� she whispered. The memory of combing the doll’s hair with a tiny plastic comb made her fingers twitch.

“Ororo! He’s sick! He’s tryin’ ta pull one over on ya, darlin’, and he’ll hurt ya more than anyone else ya’ve ever met! He’s all about lies and controllin’ people!� He nodded to Vic’s body. “That ain’t even him! He’s just wearin’ a disguise! Look at him, darlin’!�

Anticipating that ahead of time, Vic’s form gradually began to waver and shift in Ororo’s eyes. His body slowly knitted itself back together so that he appeared clean and whole. Victor’s fangs and talons seemed to retract. His long tangles of blood streaked blond hair were gleaming and neatly pulled back, and his blue eyes were beneficent and kind. He resembled a rugged angel, and Ororo stared at him in wonder.

“Uncle,� she insisted hollowly, and she slowly walked toward him, hand outstretched to touch him.

“NO!� Jean shouted, and she lashed out with her telekinesis, throwing a barrier between Ororo and Farouk. Vic’s head turned toward Jean, and his smile was wicked.

“Clever, child. Ineffective, but clever. You stand no more chance than Charles…except you’re younger. Untried. More potential to build, and a more malleable soul to mold, or to break, as I wish.� He stared Jean up and down. “And such a fragile, pretty shell.�

“Jean, get back!� VRAMMMPPFT! Scott’s beam broke Jean’s concentration, and her field was disincorporated as the energy knocked Victor off his feet.

“You shouldn’t have done that to Uncle,� Ororo informed him simply as she stretched out her hand and struck Scott with a low-voltage bolt of lightning.

“SCOTT!� Jean’s scream burned her throat and used up the last of her breath. She reeled and pinned Ororo with her glare. “WHY?�

“Because you attacked Uncle.�

“He…ain’t yer uncle. He…says he’d never hurt ya…so why’s he hurtin’ everyone else around ya?� Logan crawled to his feet and staggered as he regarded her. Ororo’s blue eyes swept over him, and for a brief, hopeful moment, he saw them waver. “Including Chuck.�

“Daddy?�

“Ya wanted ta know who hurt him. Yer lookin’ at him. He might look pretty on the outside, darlin’, but he’s a twisted, sick fuck underneath.�

“Foolish, foolish Logan,� Farouk purred. “Who will you believe, child? Me, or this strange little man who’s told you so little of himself? Look no further for the man with a vested interest in killing your father. Charles trusted him, and took him into his home, and this is how he repays him? By getting close enough to take him down when he least expects it?� Victor shrugged as he approached Logan in long strides. He reached out and grasped Logan by the throat, easily hoisting him up in the air. Logan’s face flared red as Vic’s fingers dug into his windpipe. His legs flailed and kicked as he was dangled off the ground. Farouk’s smile was triumphant. “Charles cannot read Logan’s mind, dear heart, did you know that? Who better than Logan, then, to ambush him?�

“You,� Jean grated out. Vic’s smile faltered a moment, and Jean saw an opening when Victor’s personality re-emerged. It was evident in his face and stance, some small shift when he went from calculating to merely intimidating, a self-professed boogey man and bully. Victor’s fangs resurfaced, and he ran his tongue over one thoughtfully as he stared at Jean.

“Yer next, babycakes. Might hafta leave this one ta the boss,� he said, gesturing to Ororo, “but you an’ me can have some fun of our own. Betcha scream real nice.� Lust saturated his features, and Jean shuddered in revulsion. Scott still lay on the ground, where Jean was gently cradling his head.

Something inside of Jean snapped. Suddenly she’d had enough.

“You were right,� she offered, standing up. “I am young. Untried. I can barely control my power sometimes,� she admitted. Victor smiled indulgently.

“Makes it more fun when ya don’t try.� He tightened his grip on Logan’s neck, forcing a grunt of pain from his lips. Ororo still watched the scene as though in a trance, but Jean knew there was a slight chance if she could get Ororo to see that Vic wasn’t who he seemed…

Vic. The key lay with Vic.

“Then I won’t try to control it.� Jean took a deep breath and quickly lowered her psychic shields, unleashing her telepathy and aiming straight for Victor’s mind.

“You’re…hnnnnggghh…not as big and bad as you thought,� Jean grated through her teeth. Strain showed on her face, and Victor made a noise of surprise. “Problem…with letting in a guy…like Farouk…is once you open that door, anyone can get in. Like…little ol’ me…� Her bravado was false. Jean was terrified as she took her first steps into Vic’s thoughts.

It was a swirling, black picture of hell. She was freezing and brittle as she picked her way through the barren wasteland that was dotted with rotting skulls and severed limbs. The ground beneath her feet kept shifting, trying to suck her down, and she had to struggle to plod her way free. All around her lurked unease and the unknown.

Gnarled, twisted trees seemed to drip blood and carrion; they flanked the winding pathway where she walked. It grew darker still, and Jean instinctively created a flare of light around her, something she’d never tried.

“Well, well, look who decided ta pay ol’ Vic a visit,� his voice rumbled. The ground beneath her shook, and suddenly the branches of a nearby tree twisted and lashed themselves forward like coils, snaring her and hoisting her off her feet.

“Let…go!�

“My house, sweetness. My rules.� The tree’s trunk mutated and warped as a form emerged from it’s bark, growing and bulging here and there with rough, spiny lumps. The mass incorporated itself into a writhing, pulsing body. Out of the form a bawling, gaping head erupted, fangs dripping with blood and breathing hot fumes in Jean’s face. She felt ready to vomit, and she struggled and writhed to get free, leaning her face as far away as she could. The face continued to twist and warp, jagged bark slowly giving way to flesh, and Victor’s cruel visage stared at her long and hard. A long, moist tongue flicked out to lap her cheek. “Knew ya were tasty,� he jeered.

“It’s dark in here, Victor,� she told him. “Why is that?�

“Don’t matter. Get used to it. Ya ain’t goin’ anywhere.�

“You don’t like the dark, do you?� His smile faltered.

“What the fuck do you know?�

“Look. You enjoy this?�

“It’s home.�

“It’s hell. You can’t deny it. It’s twisted, dark, and full of nothing but death.� She nodded to the myriad skulls and limbs. “Who were they, Vic?�

“No one important.�

“Keep telling yourself that.�

“Naw. Why don’t you just SHUT THE HELL UP!� he flared, bathing her in more hot breath.

Jean responded by increasing her glow. She appeared golden and radiant, her beauty and desirability intensified ten-fold. Vic bore a look of surprise.

“What’re ya doin’…glowin’?�

“It’s something I do. Something I have.�

“Ya glow…� he murmured, compelled by the radiance and the soft demeanor of her face.

“It’s what happens when you have hope, Vic. A belief that every choice you’ve ever made led up to this moment, and that it set you on the right path. That everything is as it should be. Not what it should have been.� The environment around them shifted and changed again. The trees tossed as a foul, cold wind blew through the plains, and she felt Victor shiver. The branches continued to strangle her, but she knew she had his attention.

“Don’t listen to her, Victor!� Farouk’s voice boomed, and he made his entrance, bursting through the ground and dripping clumps of soil and dessicated grass. “Don’t let her distract you. You have a job to do, and she’s no better than the rest of my toys, even my basest whores. Remember how you loved to play with them? You want her,� Farouk prodded. “You’ve never wanted to hear them talk before.� Farouk was huge and imposing, bearing sharp teeth and glowing eyes with slitted pupils. His astral form rippled with muscle, and he reached for Jean, pulling her free from the morass of Victor’s twisted body. Vic struggled to hold onto her, sticking to her like wads of used gum and hot tar.

“Leggo, ya greedy fuck! She’s MINE! Don’t take my glow!�

“Fight for what you want, Victor! Be the man you should have been, not his tool!� Jean pointed toward the skulls again, and Victor saw the ground move and ripple in the distance.

Slowly, like earthworms, faces began to push themselves toward the surface, gray and gruesome and with hollow, accusing eyes.

“Only wanted t’protect ya, baby boy,� one of them moaned in a feminine voice. Its plaintive tone and beseeching face made Victor recoil in horror, but he clutched Jean’s lower body more forcefully. “Ya…hurt me…let ‘im…kill me…�

“Always knew ya were a fuckin’ freak,� intoned the next. Bulging, bloodshot eyes, so much like Vic’s eyes, gleamed out from the darkness. “And a failure. God, yer such a failure. Ya never shoulda been born. It’s all yer mother’s fault, ‘cuz she was a whore!�

“Whore…� Vic whispered, and suddenly rage filled his voice. “She ain’t no whore! D’ya hear me! My mother ain’t no WHORE!�

“You’ve always treated women that way,� Jean stated flatly. “It’s all you knew.� One by one, the faces of various women that Vic had ever used, hurt or killed began appear and glare at him, pointing their fingers.

Used us. Betrayed us. Killed us. Freak. Monster. Animal… they chanted, surrounding them. Farouk lashed out with his talons, cutting away the visions and casting them away.

“Look what she’s trying to do, Victor! She’s coming between you and everything you’ve ever wanted! She’s but a stripling! Worthless!� Farouk wrested Jean away from Victor again, this time swallowing her up in his voluminous folds. She was suffocating, face twisted in fear, but her glow increased its wattage, and she looked like a wounded angel.

“All…he has for you…Vic…is more blood. While he takes more of your…soul…unnngh…and leaves you here…in the…dark!�

Farouk allowed Jean to swim to the surface for one brief moment. He tsked, almost cradling her even while she choked.

“Jean,� he crooned, and he raked one long talon down her cheek, drawing her blood. “Here. Taste.� He offered the precious drops of her blood, painting them over Victor’s lips. His eyes closed in rapture as he lapped up the drops. “Luscious, isn’t it? You know you want more. It’s been your one constant, and it’s never disappointed you before.�

Vic struggled, and Jean was fading fast. Her glow was diminishing, and all around her Farouk engulfed her, pushing her farther down into the dark.

Victor broke free, suddenly staring at Farouk in shock. “No. I won’t. It’s not…not enough anymore. It ain’t fuckin’ ENOUGH! D’ya hear me?� Victor’s arm snaked out in a long, twisted coil covered in jagged spines and punctured Farouk’s chest. He reached down, down, searching for Jean and barely brushing her fingertips. “JEAAANNNN!!�

Jean heard his bellowing cry as a whisper, suffocated almost down to her last gasp, and she felt something wrapping around her hand. She squeezed back and held on.

“It ain’t the blood that’s kept me goin’ all these damned years, ya bloat! I never fuckin’ asked ta live forever! Every time I come back, it’s from hopin’ that tomorrow’ll be different! That I ain’t a failure! That I ain’t gonna be a freak! That maybe I won’t hafta kill. Maybe that I won’t hafta get my fix by feelin’ my hands go through someone’s fuckin’ heart and makin’ it stop. Ya know what it’s like, hearin’ a heart beat its last, and knowin’ ya were the one who caused it? It was easy before I had a taste, Farouk.� He grunted and heaved, tugging Jean up, up, watching her faint glow regain a hint of its brightness. He waved his arm out, sweeping over the expanse of his mind. “This is it. This is all I hafta ta show fer a life that’s been too long and too fuckin’ hard.�

“You’re thinking too small. Unlimited pleasures, money, power, and more people doing your bidding than you can count…you can have this and more. You already do, now that you’ve given yourself over to me.� Victor watched as Farouk painted a picture of the lifestyle he described. Victor was at the center of the scene, garbed in fine clothes and well-groomed, drinking expensive gin and cradling a comely woman in his lap.

“Except I ain’t. Not yet.� He hauled Jean against him. Her astral form was limp and disheveled, and she appeared weak, but she stared gratefully up into Victor’s face.

Her hand was limp but gentle as she traced his cheek with the back of her finger.

“And you don’t have to, Victor.� Jean reached deep inside him and caressed his memories, bringing forth the oldest, brightest ones and presenting them for his inspection.

His first kiss, before his father ever told him what a pussy he was, and how women should really be treated. The first time he ever caught a frog at the pond. His mother’s pancakes. His first drink of gin, how it burned his throat, but how he enjoyed the sheer thrill of getting away with it.

Meeting Logan, and realizing he wasn’t alone. That memory surprised her, but she pushed it forward, willing him to re-experience it.

The first dog he ever petted. How soft its fur felt, tangled in his fingers.

“This is how it should have been. You know this.� Jean’s voice was soothing, like warm water. “The darkness will only hold you and keep you as long as you let it. You nearly killed a good man, Victor. Charles would never have tried to use you like this. And Farouk is afraid of him.�

“Shut up!� Farouk hissed.

Vic’s voice was humble when he spoke next. “I can’t take it back. I’m sorry, baby. Tell ‘im…I’m sorry.�

“He already knows. Let go, Victor.�

“I need it. I need the glow. Don’t leave.�

“I won’t go away until I take you out of the dark with me.�

Victor’s body whipped back and forth, and he released a loud, mournful howl, drowning out Farouk’s defiant words. Jean grew and glowed, becoming liquid light. She held onto Vic, and together, they cast Farouk out.


~0~

In the street, Vic collapsed.

“Uncle!� Ororo cried, hurrying forward to catch him. When she reached him, he’d reverted to Victor’s previous, bloodied form. He struggled to sit up, and she shrank back, suddenly on alert that she’d been tricked.

“Get away from him, ‘Ro!� Logan saw him reach for Ororo’s wrist, nearly yanking it out of its socket.

“Ya glow,� he murmured. “Didja know that, darlin’?� Her body stiffened, and her hair once again crackled with energy.

“Let me go!� She wasn’t afraid, something that still amazed him. He held on, waiting for what had to inevitably happen…

He heard Logan’s frantic run toward him from behind as he studied her beautiful face, caressing the crest of her cheek with his thumb.

“No wonder Farouk wants ya,� he told her softly. “Yer special.� He smelled her confusion, and her struggle slowed for a moment, calming the energy pulsing through her.

SNIKT! Ororo screamed, arching back as Logan’s claws punched through Victor’s back through his chest, nearly piercing her. Victor’s body convulsed, and he staggered to his knees, dragging her with him while he still gripped her wrist. His blue eyes rolled up to her, searching her face and beseeching.

“Ain’t…gonna fight…no more. Ya…glow…�


Back in Westchester, Charles opened his eyes.

There in the street, Logan listened as Victor’s heartbeat thudded to a stop, never looking up at the sound of Jean’s plaintive cry of Ororo’s name or Scott’s groans of pain.

Two weeks later:

“I’m going to the store with Scott. Wanna come with?�

“Uh-uh.� Jean blanched at the lack of emotion in her voice.

“Need anything.�

“I really don’t. Go ahead and go.�

“Are you okay?�

“What is this, twenty questions? I’m fine.� Ororo’s eyes held no anger, and her voice was steady. That worried Jean more than anything else could.

“You’ve been up here a long time.�

“I might go riding.� Jean’s shoulders relaxed, and she gave Ororo an easy smile.

“Good. Might do you good to get a little wind in your ears.�

“I’m flying after my history seminar.�

“Oh. Is that a good idea, considering…?�

“Yes.� Ororo cut her off and turned back to her lesson plan. Her fingers clicked away at her keyboard, and she withdrew her attention from Jean, making her friend feel at a loose end. She still lingered in the doorway, purse hooked over her shoulder.

“You’re sure you don’t need anything?�

“Scott has to be getting lonely. Don’t make him chomp at the bit, Jean. I’ll see you later.�

“Okay, sweetie.� Jean risked her sister’s annoyance by skipping forward to give her a peck on the cheek. She was relieved when Ororo leaned into it and reached up, giving her the one-armed “half hug� of someone preoccupied. Jean knew she’d been dismissed. Ororo wrinkled her nose at the remaining scent of Jean’s flowery perfume; it seemed to hang on her clothes.

It had begun hanging on Scott’s, too. The corner of her mouth quirked briefly as she returned to her lesson plan.

Douglas and their other new students were doing well. Moira made herself indispensable, helping her while Charles was still recuperating.

Ororo hadn’t made it easy for Charles to talk with her since he’d awaken. She couldn’t describe why. All that she knew was that she needed some down time. To think. To reflect.

The headaches weren’t as intense, but they were more frequent. The dreams were leaving her exhausted.

They refused to stay with her upon waking, never long enough to interpret their meaning or to sort out where they belonged.

She remembered blood. There was never a clear image of a face.

The reality of the horrors that day downtown never left her. She dealt with it stoically, much how she dealt with all things.

It was the only way she knew how. But Farouk…?

Who was he? What did he want?

With her?

Ororo sighed and stared at her computer screen. The blinking cursor mocked her. Her eyes felt tired, and she kneaded her stiff neck, twisting it from side to side.

“I’m coming, Amelia.� She craved the scent and feel of horseflesh rumbling beneath her. Ororo easily shucked her boxer shorts and tank, deciding on sturdier garb. She hummed to herself while she dug into her closet for her favorite jeans.

She was caught up in the tune and her own anticipation of the ride. She didn’t heed the sound of clumping footsteps before someone knocked briefly at her door.

“Yes?� she called over her shoulder, and Ororo experienced a sudden jolt of surprise when her door opened behind her with a cool swish. Prickles ran down her back when she realized she was giving her new guest an eyeful. “Oh!�

“Hey, darlin’, Moira was wondering if…ya…had…a sec…� Logan’s words evaporated on his lips. He’d made three steps into her loft before he realized his error. Ororo was in dishabille, arms still occupied in her wardrobe.

She stood gloriously naked.

Logan’s jaw worked. Ororo swallowed. No yelp. No cringing. No fluttering or nervous arms crossing over her privates.

“Er…Moira needed me?�

“Moira…Moira needed ya. Downstairs, when ya have a minute.�

“You said a second. I’m going riding.�

“Like that?� He knew he should tear his eyes away. Hers dared him not to.

He’d noticed her as a woman up until then. Now he noticed her as near perfect.

Her caramel skin glowed, poreless and completely smooth. She had no scars or blemishes. Logan felt a flush work its way up to his hairline. He’d never blushed over the sight of a woman, or at least not in adult memory.

“Perhaps not quite like this.� The corners of her mouth were spreading, pushing themselves up into a smile that he could only call mischievous. He broke out in a rash of prickles, and there was an uncomfortable, unappeased throbbing between his legs that wouldn’t leave him alone. “I need my boots.�

That kicked his imagination into overdrive, Ororo pulling a Lady Godiva on Amelia’s back. He was willing to lend her his Stetson to complete the image.

“Coulda told me ya weren’t decent.�

“So I’m indecent?� she inquired. “You could have waited til I said ‘Come in.’� He was dying to rise to the bait. Her curves made his hands twitch until he fisted them at his sides. Those unsettlingly calm cerulean eyes drifted back into her closet as she rummaged for her jeans. She found them and tugged them from the hanger. “You don’t seem to mind my lack of decency.� She leveled him with a look as she hopped into them. “Do you?�

Was she honestly challenging him? Heck…did she think he was inhuman???

“Ya don’t seem ta mind the interruption, darlin’.� And there he went with the endearment that he was trying to avoid. It was tempting. Ororo didn’t like nicknames much. Stevie got away with calling her “child,� and Moira with “colleen,� only because she called every female in the house that. She barely tolerated ‘Ro from him, until Jean and Scott adopted it; then she just sighed gustily and rolled her eyes in acceptance.

She was just pulling up the jeans and zipping them, but it did little to stem the tide of arousal roaring through him. The jeans fit her lovingly snug, outlining the inviting, ripe curve of her rump. Then it hit him: She was going commando. She took away his view of the soft slope of her belly and the ivory nest of curls as she zipped them up. Her breasts – God, those breasts – were supported by a narrow ribcage and a wasp waist. His eyes traced the long, graceful line of her spine. Logan finally decided to end their staring contest and let his eyes skitter to the floor, but the sight of her breasts, easily enough to overflow his hands, wouldn’t leave him. Rosy mocha aureoles stared back at him, hardening into stiff buds under his gaze.

Well…so Miss Cool, Calm and Collected wasn’t completely unaffected, after all.

Or, maybe she just caught a draft…

As a final insult, she pulled on one of the cotton henleys she liked so much, this time a soft sage green with short sleeves.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?�

“Uh-uh.�

“Fine,� she shrugged. “I’m headed out.�

“Don’t forget Moira.�

“I haven’t. But I’m headed out.�

“She’s with Charley.�

“Then she won’t miss me much.� Her carefree tone rankled him.

“Darlin’…somethin’ the matter? Ya seem…off.�

“No more than anyone else in this house, in light of what happened, don’t you think?� She already grabbed her beloved boots and was shoving her foot into the first. The leather was well broken-in and emphasized her endless legs.

“Naw. I do.� She peered up at him and arched her brow. “Ya are a little more off than anyone else. Ya just show it differently.�

“And how might that be?� she asked impatiently. More of that cool tone. He wanted to shake her.

“Ya watched me kill a man. Aside from duckin’ back from my claws, ya didn’t even flinch.�

“I got the impression that the last time we talked, Logan, you’ve killed before. You’re used to it.�

“But yer not s’posed ta be used to it, darlin’.�

“Don’t call me that.�

“It’s a habit. Comes out of my mouth around people I like.�

“You don’t call Scott that,� she pointed out, her voice muffled by ponytail holder. She was struggling with her hair and doing her best to ignore him.

“Exactly.� He smirked at her in the mirror. She rolled her eyes back at his reflection and sighed. She was just looping the double-beaded elastic around her hair when a small clump of strands snagged in it. It smarted, and she cursed under her breath.

“Havin’ trouble with that?�

“No. Just gimme a second,� she mumbled tersely. She was more annoyed at her hair, and even herself. She just wanted to get outside, but he was making her all thumbs.

Never mind the hungry look in his eyes. She caught his scent again.

Logan smelled yummy. Ororo felt a funny little dip in her belly, and even though she wasn’t nervous around him – was she? – he made her feel…warm.

Very…very warm.

“Yer makin’ it worse.�

“Am not. You’re in my way.�

“Am not. I’m standin’ all the way over here. Yer the one tanglin’ up yer hair. Ain’t anyway ta treat pretty stuff like that.� His booted steps thudded her way before she could protest. “Gimme that.� His fingers batted hers away from her head, easily evading her struggling elbows. His meaty hand clapped itself over her shoulder, and she froze at the contact. He felt every muscle in her body jump.

There it was. Up close and personal. Her special scent. It poured off of her hair and dewy skin. She didn’t smell all flowery like Jean. Just rain, sunlight and fresh air, and just a hint, the barest trace of something spicy and succulent. He couldn’t describe it, but he was addicted to it.

“Siddown,� he grumbled, nodding to the chair at her vanity.

“Sometime this week,� she muttered. “Didn’t I say I was heading out of here?�

“Not with lopsided hair all bunched up in a knot.�

“I’ve been doing my hair for a while now,� she reminded him.

“Then why’s it such a mess?� She narrowed her eyes at his reflection. He cocked his eyebrow back.

She sat.

His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he pried the blue plastic beads apart, prying loose the tangled strands that looped themselves around the tiny clasp in the center of the elastic. Her hair was silky and rich as he gradually freed her fall of hair from the band, quietly chucking the fastener onto the vanity in front of Ororo.

“Are you done?�

“Quit complainin’, woman. Might be done sooner if ya cool yer jets. Hold still.� He reached for her wide, wooden hair brush and gathered up her fall of hair in his fist. Painstakingly, he began to run the brush through her locks, smoothing it with firm, long strokes. The stiff bristles massaged her scalp and grazed her nape as he worked.

Traitorously, her body relaxed under his ministrations, and she was lulled by the rhythm of each stroke. She felt his heat at her back.

More of her scent drifted up to his nostrils, warm and inviting. His fingers sifted through the mass of waves as he unknotted a tangle toward the ends.

“I don’t remember my mother brushing my hair,� she murmured out of the blue. “Just Moira.�

“Do ya ever miss yer real ma?�

“Moira is my mother in all the ways that count. She wanted me enough to send Daddy for me.� She watched the intent look on his face in wonder through the mirror. His features were tranquil, and he was focused on her so deeply she almost didn’t want to speak, or break the spell.

He was raw and rugged. His face was slightly weathered, even though his skin was firm and glowed with sturdy health. There were laugh lines around his eyes that gave his face character, but she wished she could erase the haunted look within their depths. His bone structure was strong and blunt, with broad, sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. His forehead was slightly high and he had a widow’s peak that tempted her to trace the edge of his hair. With her fingertip, perhaps…or with her lips.

…where the heck had that thought come from?

He cocked his head to the side in thought, lost in his task. Her breathing adopted his slow, easy rhythms, and her shoulder blades barely grazed his chest as she leaned back into his touch with a deeper sigh of contentment.

The tips of her breasts were distracting him again, this time with the rise and fall of her chest and the low purring sound she made in her throat. His blunt fingertips grazed the smooth column of her neck as he scraped aside the curtain of her hair to bundle it back into a neat ponytail.

“Give it ta me,� he ordered huskily, breaking her reverie.

“Huh?�

“The…thing. The elastic thingy ya were usin’. Hand it ta me.�

“Oh. Here. Take it.� She handed it up to him, and their fingertips grazed, sending a current of electricity zooming up her arm. His scent was wrapped around her like a blanket. His slight tug on her hair pulled her back to the present, and he cursed under his breath as one of the beads of her barrette snapped him in the knuckle on his first try to fasten it. Then he got it, managing to secure it neatly. His hands lingered, sifting his fingers through her cool sheaves just to savor the feel of it.

Was that a moan that escaped her lips?

“Nice an’ neat,� he pronounced. “If it weren’t fer me, ya’d walk outta here with jacked up hair and nothin’ but yer boots.� She tsked dryly.

“In your dreams.�

“Exactly,� he informed her, and this time his voice held a hint of danger.

She craved it.

She was just craning her head up toward him to offer another taunt, but he had other ideas. He grasped her hair enough to make her lean back and tilt her face up to his before his lips came crashing down on hers.

Her breath left her, steaming out through her nostrils as he took the taste of her that he’d go crazy without. She heard his groan through the rushing in her ears and her own pounding heart. His long, thick finger traced her jaw as he took her sweetness with kisses that were drugging and hungry. His tongue stroked hers, twining around it, hot and velvety, and she didn’t stop the moan that it pried out of her. Her hands betrayed her, cupping the back of his head and fisting in his white ribbed tank.

He was hot, solid and his smooth cords of muscle begged for her caress. She explored them from neck, to shoulder, to chest, and she laid her palm over his heartbeat, counting each thrum.

She wasn’t as detached as he thought. He stifled a laugh at that and then gave himself up to the havoc she was wreaking with his body. Her fingertip grazed his flat nipple through his shirt, flicking over it and sending a jolt through him that zeroed in on his package.

He couldn’t get enough of kissing her, of caressing the high, smooth crowns of her cheeks with his thumbs while he breathed kisses over her lips. He captured her hands and flattened them against him, and she found herself tipped back, cradled in the burly nook of his arm while he ravished her more thoroughly, unable to get close enough in their current position.

He mapped out her body with his hand, skimming down the length of her slender arm, to her neck, back down between the valley of her breasts. She arched back in approval and invitation when his thumb tentatively teased one pouting nipple. Lush, wicked heat rushed into her center and Ororo was instantly wet. Her lips felt heavy, engorged and ripe, made even sharper and harder to ignore by the rough rasp of her denim jeans, with no barrier between them and her sensitive flesh.

She nodded around their kiss, as if to say “Do it.� He deftly teased the hem of her shirt up, exposing her smooth belly and those breasts, and he cupped one, making them groan in unison. It seemed to press itself into his palm, begging him to stroke it, coddle it, mold it, tease that sweet nipple until it strained for the hot wetness of his mouth…

Logan was about to lose it. Sensations were rocking Ororo and throwing her off-balance, and she was frenzied, not knowing where she wanted to explore next. It was desperate and rushed, and she –

Stopped. Ororo broke their kiss, panting, staring up at him with questions in her blue eyes. In tandem Logan’s hand slipped free, carefully covering her with her shirt again. He was shaking when he released her, and his emotions were suddenly placed back in check, except for the pain in his eyes.

“I-I have to go,� she offered. She stood on steadier legs than his, and he backed away quickly, trying to avoid an accidental collision that might make him lose control if he touched her again. Desire raged between them and threatened to make him kick the door shut and take her, again and again, until that voice in his head was finally silenced. Until they were both sated and couldn’t move a muscle, or even think straight.

She caught her reflection and blanched. She was even more disheveled than before, and she had the beginnings of a prominent purple hickey on the side of her neck. “Shit.� Jean would have a field day.

“Ooh.� Logan noticed it and winced. “Moira’s waitin’. Gonna get goin’. Bye, darlin’.� He strode out, and behind him, bit by bit, she composed herself.

Outside, wind whistled through the trees, blowing several miles per hour faster than they had minutes ago. There was no storm over the horizon, but thick clouds rolled and tumbled across the sky like scattering marbles.

She forgot about her dreams, and her headaches, until she made her way downstairs.


~0~

Farouk pondered the vast landscape unfolding itself around him, steepling his fingers beneath his chin – in whatever sense that he still possessed form – and fumed.

“Victor,� he muttered. “Ah, Victor. You had one last trick in your pocket.�

He’d underestimated his pet. He wouldn’t do that again.

He sat back on his throne and reached into a small, ornately carved box. Farouk lifted out his favorite possession and admired it in the eerie red glow that permeated the chamber he created for himself in his shadowy realm.

Her fear. It resonated and pulsed in his hand and smelled sweeter than jasmine.

“How you’ve grown, little one,� he mused. “But you’ve yet to bloom. The world will witness your full glory soon. You will deny your mother and father and crush all who dare to defy me.� He stroked his prized with his talons, watching it flicker and glow.

“Charles cannot have you,� he promised, tsking as he continued to admire it. “I’m the one in control. How much simpler it would be for everyone if they would just accept that, eh, my pet?�

Caution. Self-preservation. Common sense. All by-products of fear. One of the qualities Ororo lacked that frequently pushed away those who cared for was vulnerability. She wasn’t afraid of beginning personal relationships, but she didn’t have a vested interest in how they turned out. She was so self-sufficient, she felt she didn’t need anyone.

Xavier was a fool. His hold on her memories was weakening, and his charade was almost at an end. Ororo would know of her father’s betrayal. When that happened, he’d have his favorite possession in his hands once more, to play with however he wished.

It was difficult. The easiest way he had to manipulate her was through those close to her, providing the additional benefit of thwarting Charles. Victor had been quite effective in that regard, at least for a while.

He considered his pawns.

Farouk contemplated her fear; it was icy cold and slick, and he cursed briefly as one of its sharp spines pricked him. He licked away a droplet of blood from his finger and smiled.

“Keep your friends close, Charles,� he chuckled.

He knew his next destination.


~0~

“Look who’s come out of her cave,� Moira accused as Ororo sauntered into the den. Charles was half-upright on a recliner they’d purchased from a home medical equipment agency upon his return from the hospital. He was still thin but no longer so wan, but the experience aged him. Fine lines developed around his mouth, and his dark brows held a few gray strands that weren’t there before. Moira scheduled a physical therapist to begin working on Charles’ recovery. He greeted the news of his paraplegia stoically, on the surface. Moira knew he was raging inside. Not from his perceived helplessness, but from Farouk catching him off-guard.

Touché, Farouk. Touché. I’ve destroyed your body, and you’ve destroyed mine.

Moira was puzzled by her daughter’s appearance. She looked so…wanton. Her hair was tumbling down around her shoulders, which Moira found odd, since she was dressed to go riding. Her shirt was slightly wrinkled around the hem, as though she’d twisted it in her fist. And Moira was accustomed to Ororo looking tranquil, even occasionally looking blank and unaffected.

But she was…different. Almost dreamy. And was her face flushed?

“Hello, stranger,� Charles greeted her. She nodded and crossed the room, leaning down for a dutiful kiss. Her lips warmed the top of his head and he chuckled. “It’s like your patting me on the head when you do that.� She sighed and stepped back from them both, choosing a Chippendale upholstered in deep blue velvet instead of sitting beside Moira on the loveseat. Moira wondered about the distance but said nothing.

“How do you feel, Dad?�

“As good as I can today.�

“Aye. I’ve been showin’ Charley what food tastes like again.�

“A clever euphemism for force feeding me and telling me to like it,� he quipped. Moira’s fingers were already laced with his, and she tightened her grip. He took pleasure from the contact, and despite daily rounds of shouting matches, nagging, pleading and cajoling from one another, they were closer than ever.

Moira planned to extend her hiatus to the states. Now all she needed to do was figure out what to do with Kevin.

Charles had brooded a great deal since her confession. She’d expected him to be hurt, or even angry enough to disown any part of her.

His eyes had filled with tears, yet he reached out to flick hers away. “Moira.� His throat closed up. “I always…hoped…� The wall between them dissolved, and she collapsed into his arms, sobbing long and hard. He was so gaunt beneath her, but his arms still held her fiercely and protectively, offering her comfort that she’d only ever needed from him. No one else in her life had ever loved her the way Charles did. No one.

“Aye, Charley. Ours. Kevin’s ours. Just like Ororo. He’s your son.� She loomed over him while he lay in bed, and he framed her face in his hands. When he toyed with a lock of her hair, he noticed the gray strands that invaded the glossy chestnut. Moira was still beautiful to him. She’d always be beautiful to him, no matter how many years they both had left.

The irony of the many years they’d lost hung heavily upon them and made every day more precious. Ororo watched them together in the den with something akin to envy.

She didn’t know what it was like to care for someone that much…and to trust that they wouldn’t leave. The concept was foreign.

“What did you need, Mum?�

“Yuir father wanted a few words wi’ ye, colleen,� she explained.

“What’s on your mind?� Ororo crossed one booted leg over the other and waited expectantly.

“You.�

“Okaaaayyy,� Ororo drawled.

“There was so much I never had the chance to explain. About what happened, and some things you should have known before. The man who attacked me was named Victor Creed. He was a mercenary in Cairo.�

“Nice guy,� she agreed dryly. Charles found her tone slightly unnerving and mustered his nerve to continue.

“He was employed by Farouk.� There was that name again, and this time Ororo allowed herself a slight frown.

“Dad, is he my uncle?� Moira blanched. “Back in the city, Victor…Farouk…it’s so confusing, Dad, he was too different people! Did I have any uncles on my mom or my dad’s side?�

“Ororo…no, sweetheart, you didn’t. None that we knew of, and you came to the orphanage under such dire circumstances, we never had the chance to research your roots any further.�

“All ye need tae know, lass, is that Farouk is na’ yer uncle,� Moira said adamantly.

“It was weird,� Ororo mused. “One minute, he was just this rough…just nasty. He was a lot like Logan, in a way, just had this animal quality and snarled and stomped.� Moira suppressed a smile but still argued the point.

“Nay, lass, he isn’t as much like our Logan as ye think.�

“No,� she agreed. “He isn’t, I guess. But he was still so…raw.�

“That’s one way o’ puttin’ it, lass.�

“Then…Dad, he changed. He was smooth and articulate. All formal. He sounded like he had a broad education and had seen everything that life had to offer.�

“He’s seen and even provided the worst that life has to offer, Ororo.� Charles readied himself for the talk he’d been dreading a long time. Why couldn’t it just be the birds and the bees? Ororo cocked her head, mindlessly sweeping back the fall of hair over her shoulder, and he noticed a raspberry mark, striated with what looked like teeth impressions on her neck. Oh, my… His face flushed.

“But he’s gone now. Logan killed him.� Beside him Moira bit the inside of her cheek. The silence was weighty but brief.

“No, sweetheart. I’m afraid he didn’t.�

“I don’t understand.� Her face was patient, but she leaned back in her chair and uncrossed her leg, almost as though she was ready to bolt. But Charles knew she never backed down or ran from everything.

“Farouk’s soul, even his mind, is still alive. He no longer has a corporeal form. He was borrowing Victor Creed’s. His own body is dead.�

“Why?� she asked, not expressing outward surprise, but Moira peered outside the window. The trees were tossing in the wind suddenly, and they clouds began to flank the sun, threatening to block it out. Ororo waited with bated breath. Charles looked grave, and he bowed his face to his lap.

“Because I killed him.�


~0~

“Two raspberry, please,� Scott replied to the salesgirl at the Orange Julius booth in the food court. He handed Jean the one that didn’t include banana and yogurt after inserting a red straw for her. She beamed, looking as though someone turned on the sun.

“Mmmmm,� she mumbled around the straw, drawing on it firmly enough to suck her cheeks in. “I needed that.�

“Poor baby,� he crooned affectionately, tweaking her nose. “Nobody feeds you!� She snickered and shoulder-checked him as they began walking down the wide corridor toward the shoe outlet. He grinned and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. They made a wholesome looking couple, the boy and girl next door. Jean hadn’t pried that deeply into Scott’s mind since that night, but they did keep their link open for brief snatches of conversation, whether it was to be intimate or just silly. She picked up contentment from him that she shared. Sunlight shone in through the skylight windows of the mall, dappling the indoor plants and benches and making her glad she’d dressed lightly for the day. A new pair of sandals was calling her name…

She felt herself tugged to a sudden stop. “Scott?� He was entranced, staring into the shop window. Her green eyes followed his scarlet gaze. “Oh. Wow.�

They stared in awe at the mannequins in Victoria’s Secret’s display, which was a striking riot of green.

Emerald green. Bottle green. Hunter green. Insignificant scraps of satin that shone in the sun and garish lighting of the store itself against the pink walls and filmy chiffon swags. The mannequins sat coyly as though they were just randomly caught in their underthings, legs casually crossed or tilted to thrust out the corner of a curving hip. Most of them were trimmed in tiny bows and black lace. The central model boldly showed off a matching lace garter belt holstering black fishnet stockings around its waist. Their alabaster-toned plaster “skin� stirred the imagination to replace it with pulsing, warm flesh.

They both stood mesmerized. Scott squeezed Jean’s fingers. Jean, dumbly, squeezed back. They turned to face each other, almost as one. Her eyes, the green of new leaves, pinned him.

“Think they take check?�


~0~


“The first moment I laid eyes on you, you were no more than five.� Charles’ voice was its usual lilting baritone with rounded vowels, but it shook slightly until Moira returned with his chamomile. “I never expected to see someone as young as you were, where I found you. The Pharaoh’s Pearl.�

“Sounds fancy.�

“It was hell on earth.� His eyes turned harder than she’d ever seen them, and Ororo folded her hands quietly in her lap. “You didn’t belong there, yet that was where he kept you.�

“Kept me?�

“Ye were lost, lass. Ye may remember the orphanage. And Japheth.�

“Of course. He’s just Japh; I loved him to pieces. Still do.�

“He tried tae protect ye. That’s what he’s told me over the years, when we talk.�

“Always knew you two had a bone to pick about me behind my back,� she joked, but neither she nor Charles smiled.

“Farouk was playing cards. He was winning.�

“Was he a shark?� she inquired.

“He was the Devil.� Charles took a fortifying sip of his tea. “Every man in that salon belonged to him, body and soul. Farouk is a mutant, telepathic, like me.� Charles’ flesh crawled at having to compare himself with that animal. “Except he uses his gifts to manipulate people’s minds, and he forces them to give into their baser instincts, strengthening their id. Their dark side, if you like. He can twist your entire consciousness to believe what he wants you to. You saw what happened to Jean.�

“It’s like she wasn’t there,� Ororo admitted, remembering how Jean just collapsed, her eyes gaping open and blank as she seemed to stare up at the sky.

“Victor was very susceptible to his influence,� Charles added, “because he’d given up on listening to his conscience. That’s where Jean managed to break through and throw him off-guard. She showed him ‘the light.’ Hope, and the concept of self-forgiveness. It also manifested itself in the form of extreme remorse. Imagine every sin you’ve ever committed, heaped up in a towering pile before you, threatening to topple over and bury you.� His face was grave. Ororo watched her father carefully, seeing how unsettled he looked, as though he knew exactly how Victor Creed must have felt.

“I know Jean’s good at getting into people’s heads,� Ororo mused. “But that was…intense.�

“Victor had nothing else to live for, and nothing else to lose. The will of the human mind to survive at any cost is immense and immeasurable, my sweet. Victor’s done nothing but survive, but he never truly lived. He knew he was destined to ruin, but he decided to take as many lives with him as he could before he was finally eliminated. Victor had a healing factor. He recovered from injury easily as a result. The first time we met, he’d walked away from fatal injuries and came after me.�

“What kind of injuries?�

“He was flung through a window, two stories up, after being stabbed repeatedly. He should have died.� Ororo swallowed uncomfortably, and Moira was distressed to see her fidgeting in her seat. That was unlike her daughter.

“When did this happen?� Charles held his breath.

“The night we took you away from Farouk.�

The faint throbbing in her temples increased once more, but this time it was accompanied by a strange buzzing that distracted her from keeping her train of thought.

“The night ‘we’ took me? Who’s ‘we’?�

“Logan,� Charles pronounced.


~0~

“Shit,� Logan muttered around the stub of his cigar. It was his second.

Geez… What the bloody, flamin’ hell came over him? He felt like a dipshit even asking himself that question, because he knew the answer.

Ororo.

He was still suffering a raging hard-on. Her kiss, that moan of need in her deep, throaty voice, the feel of her breast in his palm…he almost lost it. She marked him. His body yearned for her. Every hair in the back of his neck was still standing at attending, as much as the nuisance throbbing between his legs.

He was still reeling. She ain’t a child. Not by a long shot anymore. This is the woman. And the problem was, he didn’t know how to cope with the woman.

Ask him to babysit a kid, keep her dolly safe and rescue her from the clutches of the bad men, and Logan was your man.

Shove the grown-up version with the body of a goddess, nerves of steel and an unsettling lack of gravity at him, and he was at a loss. A complete loss.

He leaned over the balcony of his room, letting the wind ruffle his hair and the open tails of his chambray shirt. Even the weather was a little…off. The sun kept peeking in and out of the clouds, and the trees tossed in the breeze like wind chimes; the howling pierced him, his enhanced hearing left him at a disadvantage, but he didn’t retreat inside.

What the fuck had Charley been thinkin’? Why him? Why now?

How had it all come full circle to this?

Logan was gifted with a nearly photographic memory, show him something twice, and he could relate it back to you verbatim. His healing factor ensured that he suffered little to no memory loss over time, even into his advanced years. Charles’ letter to him those brief months ago still blazed in his mind.


I know you never expected to hear from me again, my friend. I hope you don’t feel that I’m taking too great a liberty calling you that, but I feel as though the ordeal we faced during our acquaintance is one that connects us, in some way. I write today because, once again, I need your help.

It regards Ororo. Currently she resides with me here in Westchester, New York. She’s physically safe, I assure you, and even thriving in my home. She and Moira, my colleague and former fiancée, split custody of her when she formally adopted her.

You may remember how she was that night, shortly after she witnessed Farouk’s death. I believed before that she was rendered catatonic by her young mind’s inability to comprehend such horror as what she experienced. Now, I feel I was wrong.

I believe very strongly that Farouk attacked the child and damaged her, psychically, and perhaps emotionally. I feel that since we removed her from his presence, we didn’t entirely remove his control.

I have attempted to help her with nightmares that she has suffered from since. She never remembers them, she only wakes up screaming, only to have no full recollection of them. Moreover, she acts unaffected by them the next day. I feel as though these dreams are the symptom of a bigger problem, and she may need more than what I or her mother can give.

I believe she needs you.

You were her savior during the worst night of the child’s life. I ask not that you offer your protection, as I feel she may resent that, despite my good intentions. But I want you to be there for her as the memories resurface, if they indeed do.

She needs an anchor. You may be that person to offer your strength and uncanny sense of survival and emotional endurance. You also know the experiences you and I have both had in the field during times of war can wear away at your soul. So you should know very well how important it is to have someone there to help deal with the aftermath, and who reminds you why to keep living, not just surviving. It’s too easy to retreat into yourself, and into the dark after witnessing that much tragedy. Ororo’s childhood has been stained in blood. It was taken away from her far too soon.

Farouk covets her soul, for its purity and for the satisfaction of corrupting it. You’ve seen him break souls before; your associate, Victor, seems to have no qualm about offering his own to Farouk for the right price, from what I’ve seen. I pray that this doesn’t reach you too late, and that you haven’t walked that same path to ruin.

I’m offering you a place to live, and if you choose, to work for me. I run a private school for a select few students. You’ve observed that I’m a mutant, much like yourself. My life’s work has been dedicated to helping other young people understand their gifts and cope with them, as well as to avoid exploitation by men such as Farouk. I feel that we helped her avoid that fate as a child; I hope our luck hasn’t run out in that regard, Logan. I truly do.

She’s exceptional. Keenly intelligent and mature beyond her years, and Moira and I never had much difficulty with her being willful, even during her adolescence, although she has few inhibitions, which you may understand once you two meet. That is, if you choose to come here. Naturally your travel expenses will be fully paid, and you will be compensated whatever you need once you arrive.

That last bit rankled; in his own way, Charles was like Farouk. Too good with words, too quick with offering money for something and explaining what he needed with too many “gray areas.�

Give my best to Ainet. I hope this finds her, as well as you, well, content and safe. I’ve enclosed some photographs of Ororo and Japheth. He has also flourished under Moira’s care, despite the horrors that he, too, witnessed during his time in Cairo after they left the orphanage. Godspeed.

His favorite picture was pinched in his grip, the edges beginning to warp slightly from age. Moira’s girlish script on the back listed Ororo’s age as ten. A slender, adolescent Japheth stood behind her, his lanky arm wrapped companionably around her neck in a hug that resembled a headlock. The sign above them read Six Flags. Ororo was beaming in the picture beside Japheth’s broad grin. They both looked exhilarated, no doubt from a jaunt on a thrill ride at the park, and Ororo cradled a large, red stuffed bear with googly eyes and a nose made of cheap felt.

Even then, there was just something about her eyes…something no one could touch. Part of here wasn’t there, likely miles away and retreating to wherever it was that she went when she couldn’t cope. Yet Ororo could always cope. It was part of who she was, the one who was strong when everyone else was brought to their knees.

Logan continued to contemplate that photo, musing.

He wasn’t supposed to feel that way about her. He couldn’t reconcile the child with the woman, and his feelings about her as a man, with a man’s response and needs just felt wrong. She was pure. The blood of many stained his hands. She didn’t push him away, but he knew that she should.

“Run far, far away, little girl,� he warned under his breath, stroking the finish of the photo with his rough thumb. “Yer s’posed ta be afraid of the boogey man. Me an’ Farouk.�

Her kiss lingered with him as he headed to the garage, deciding he needed the wind rushing up to his face and whistling in his ears. LuLu was calling his name, and he craved her leather seat between his legs. Maybe the thunder of the gravel road beneath him would relieve him of his little – big – affliction.

“I don’t know what to say,� Ororo murmured thoughtfully. Her eyes were miles away, and Charles and Moira didn’t know if she was truly speaking to them anymore.

The sky looked more ominous than before; the clouds meshed together and turned the sky a murky dove gray. The barest slivers of sunlight cut through it, never long enough to let anyone on the ground benefit from its warmth.

Much like Ororo.

“What do you want to know, child? I’ll tell you anything you want to know about what happened…�

“No. I don’t want that. Not yet.� Her gaze pinned him. The serenity in her face was marred by something unfamiliar and unsettling: Frustration. “Why Logan? Why here?�

“He helped me when I needed him. I wanted to offer him an opportunity to work for me in a more beneficial capacity.�

“What, like a favor?�

“It’s not that simple.�

“So make it simple,� she challenged.

“Ororo! Dinna put yuir father on the spot! He’s tryin’ tae explain this to ye, but it’s delicate.�

“So you explain, then.�

“Lassie, I was na’ there that night! All I knew was that ye were gone,� Moira cried, now distraught. “Ye dinna know what it was like…ye were missing, gone without a trace! Five years old. All we found was yuir dollie and tire tracks. No one had seen ye leave. Children came to that bluidy orphanage all the time, so many it was hard tae keep track of where they were from, or how they lost their parents, or what kind of hell they escaped. I didn’t know where ye ended up; all I knew was that my heart…me bluidy heart broke, and bled, aye, and burned, when I found ye gone. Charles was a half a world away, and he heard me. He heard me calling out for ye t’come back t’me.� Some of the starch left Ororo’s spine when she saw Moira’s eyes gleaming and filling. “Ye dinna know the horror of losing a child.�

“I wasn’t your child yet.�

“Dinna fash yuirself for a minute, lass, that it hurt any less.�

“This was the message Moira sent me that night, and how if affected her. Ororo, I know that a full psychic probe is nearly impossible between us, and that I cannot transmit what Moira observed into your mind. All I can do is show you the remnant of what Moira held in hers. This is why Logan and I came after you.� Charles closed his eyes, gently pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, and Moira suddenly relaxed, as though an enormous burden was lifted from her shoulders. On some level, Ororo knew it had, because it was shared.

The study shifted, seeming to evaporate around them as Charles enveloped them in Moira’s memory. Ororo almost tasted the dust blowing around the arid ground in swirling motes. It was dusk, but the air still felt humid and oppressive, heralding the arrival of mosquitoes.

Ororo heard her name, torn from Moira’s lips. She cried it over and over again until her voice was ragged and cracked. Around and around she turned, her pace going from hesitant searching to a frantic run. This Moira was younger but still had that seasoned, mature look, telling Ororo that she’d suffered much by that point in her life.

She watched the desperation in her movements and face, the haggard worry in her eyes and the anguish twisting her mouth. She felt the hands reaching for Moira, trying to pull her back from running down the road to follow the tire tracks. It wasn’t safe to be out after dark, they said.

Her arms felt empty, and the guilt weighed a ton. How could she have taken her eyes off her! Where on God’s earth could she be? Every moment she was lost was one foot in the grave…or a fate worse than death for a young, innocent child.

Moira was inconsolable, the picture of a broken woman. Her shouts of Ororo’s name gave way to ugly, guttural sobs of mourning as she sank to her knees in the dust.

The landscape faded away, leaving behind only the study and the scent of Charles’ cooling tea. Tears were streaming down Moira’s cheeks, and she was shivering. She stopped when Charles reached for her hand.

“It was horrible,� she whispered. Ororo’s body reflexively leaned forward in her seat; she wanted to go to her, but there was still so much that her father hadn’t told her. So much that she realized he’d held back for a long, long time.

“Mummy…I’m sorry,� Ororo admitted.

“Japheth said ye left wi’ him,� she whimpered, “and-and it was awful, lass. The other workers at the orphanage just said what a pity it was that he was lost, but they were relieved! He was always so sickly, and they were worried they didn’t have the bluidy resources tae feed the poor lad. But he was with you. That was the only consolation I took, lass. Ye were na’ alone out there, but I lost both my babies!�

“Logan was special,� Charles continued thoughtfully while Moira consoled herself, hiccupping and gasping into her hand. “He’s a hard, brittle man who’s difficult to figure out. But I sensed a genuineness of character in him. He was scarred and wary, but not corrupt.�

“What happened when you met?�

“He nearly killed me,� Charles said cavalierly. “I took it as a sign that he liked me when he didn’t, despite himself.� That made Ororo crack a smile. Moira’s chuckle was shaky at best.

“So I guess that’s as good as it gets. That’s why you let a contracted killer under our roof, Dad,� Ororo summed up blithely. She got up and rubbed her legs briskly to restore the circulation. “That’s all I wanted to know. Works for me. I’m going riding.� Moira made a shocked sound. Charles looked baffled and gave a ragged sigh.

“Ororo, don’t just walk away.�

“I need some air. However I can get it, Dad.�

“Let her go, me luv,� Moira advised. “Aye, I think our wee colleen’s heard enough for now.� Moira stood and approached her, beseeching her. Don’t condemn your father, her eyes seemed to ask. She enveloped Ororo in a fierce hug that was nearly painful. Ororo’s arms twined around her and clung almost as tightly, which surprised her. She should be…distraught? Confused? Resentful?

She was holding her mother through a difficult time. Everything else fell away with Moira’s pliant, fragile body bundled into her embrace.

“Ye dinna ken how much we love ye, colleen.�

“I don’t know how I know,� she agreed, kissing her damp cheek, “but I do.� She released her and strode out.

“What the bluidy hell are we going ta do with that lass, Charley?� He was strangely quiet behind her. “Charley?� She spun and saw him bent slightly forward in his chair, the proud posture gone. His shoulders were shaking, and Charles supported himself, leaning his forehead into his open palm.

Moira did something she hadn’t in years.

Her hands were gently as she unlocked the foot rests of his wheelchair to allow his feet to touch the floor, allowing her more room to stand between them. She turned and sat on his lap, letting him feel the contact of her whole body against him to absorb her warmth and presence while she opened her thoughts.

“Tis all right, Charley. I’m here. I’m here. She’ll be all right.� His choked sobs were garbled in the folds of the lightweight sweater she wore. A few tears wouldn’t hurt it, she decided. She crooned soothing sounds against his temple and caressed him, only feeling as though she made a complete connection when his arms coiled around her, nearly crushing her with his need.

“We can’t lose her,� he whispered.

“Nay. We won’t.�

There was still so much left unsaid.


~0~


An hour later:


Jean’s stomach was full of butterflies and her breath was short and harsh. She fumbled with her mascara in the vanity mirror and checked the clock.

Dinner. They were supposed to meet for dinner. Damn, she felt giddy.

She stood back and checked her reflection. Her dress was simple, a short black A-line with long sleeves and a wrap waist and deep V-neck that still left something to the imagination. She left her hair down and bumped it with her curling iron. Jean didn’t share Ororo’s fondness for ponytails unless she was in dance class with Stevie.

“This is it, Jean,� she muttered to her reflection. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but at least she didn’t have any stress breakouts or a shiny nose. It was as good as it was gonna get.

“Here I come, Scott.� She grabbed her purse and swept out of the room. The jitters in her stomach were soon accompanied by goosebumps.

She no sooner felt her feet touch the floor of the foyer than she felt the mad urge to run back upstairs and change, suddenly feeling too fat, too ungroomed and badly dressed, until she heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Jean? Wow.� She whipped around, making her hair fan out and strands of it cling to her freshly applied pink lipstick. Scott was wearing a crisp white dress shirt that he tucked into charcoal gray slacks. His shoes shone with fresh polish, and his hair was still slightly damp, the shorter locks curling slightly and looking inviting enough to touch. His expression was one of awe and admiration.

“Wow,� she repeated, tongue-tied. “You look…�

“Amazing,� he completed for her. Her eyes ate him up.

“You’re so handsome,� she breathed. Wow, she repeated again in her mind.

“It doesn’t matter. No one’ll be looking at me,� he promised, closing the gap between them and taking her hand. He reached up with the other and gently stroked the strands of hair free from her plump lips. She tingled when he breathed over them and kissed the corner of her mouth so as not to ruin her makeup.

They shared the space in Jean’s tiny compact car with jokes and open thoughts all the way downtown. Jean was thrilled. The satin she wore beneath the dress felt slick against her skin, giving her the confidence she hoped it would in the first place.


~0~

Damn, that felt good.

Logan hung his helmet back up on its peg in the garage and dragged the tarp over LuLu before he left the garage, feeling pleasantly sore. The bike rode like a dream. He was still surprised that Charles even owned one, but Logan wasn’t complaining. Give him a Harley over a Daimler any day.

His skin still stung from the wind whipping against him, and his clothes were slightly damp. It had rained, an unseasonal cold shower that drenched the gravel road, turning it into slurry and making it more of a challenge to get home. There was a taste of danger in the air that was heady and that called his name, stimulating him. He wasn’t ready to go inside and take shelter from it yet.

He trekked out to the lake roughly a half a mile from the house, taking the shortcut through the trees. He walked past the stables and Amelia nickered at him and swished her tail. He felt her unease keenly and decided to stop for a visit.

“Easy, girl. S’okay. Just had a little rain. Ain’t a storm yet.� He reached out and stroked her muzzle when she nosed him and snuffled at his palm. “Ain’t got anything for ya today. Write up an IOU, sweetheart.� She whinnied and snorted her disapproval but didn’t complain any further when he reached for the brush hanging from a rack and began to curry her coat. She leaned into the rough strokes of the brush, her flesh shuddering against him in pleasure. She was the second female to succumb to his particular brand of grooming that evening. At least Amelia didn’t leave him without shit for a clue. He basked in her peaceful mood, as always in easy company among animals and enjoying an emotional rapport that he could never explain in words. They just understood each other.

He blew in her nostrils by way of a goodnight kiss and ambled off, wiping his hands on his faded jeans. The lake still sounded good to him. The water was probably gonna be cold, but he needed to clear his head.

It was just past dusk; the sky was indigo fading into black, with the first stars shimmering into view and winking back at him. He reached the clearing; the brush snapped and rustled beneath his boots as he approached the shore. The banks were loamy and overgrown with moss and thick lichen, and the air smelled like damp earth. He heard crickets and the prolific swarms of tree frogs as he sat on a dead log and removed his boots. His feet cried relief at the sensation of being bare and him planting them in the damp, ticklish grass.

A rush of bubbles and spattering drops nearly made him fall backward off his perch. Ororo erupted through the surface of the water, taking a greedy breath of the cool air. Her hair was smooth and slick as a seal’s, gleaming a deeper silver in the moonlight and plastered against her bare back.

Now she knew why she didn’t bother with underwear; it was just one more thing she’d have to remove when she went for her swim. She was just skimming the droplets from her face with her palms and making sounds of contentment when his chest finally unseized.

Oh, yeah. She was trying to kill him.

“Damn,� he marveled, taking in the sight of her body, and all that hair trailing down her back. She finally noticed him and dropped her hands.

“Well,� she announced. “Hi.�

“Hey.�

“Thought I had the lake all to myself.�

“Ya thought wrong,� he informed her. They held a staring contest. She stood slightly more than waist-deep in the dark water, which was still rippling from her return to the surface. It lapped at the undersides of her bare breasts. She didn’t shiver from the cool air bathing her damp flesh, and she didn’t shrink from his gaze.

“I had first dibs.�

“Finders, keepers,� he shrugged. He never took his eyes from her as he stood slowly and unbuttoned his shirt. His mind screamed that if he was smart, he’d just grab his boots, nod a quick goodbye and leave. How hard would that be?

Impossible. Friggin’ impossible.

His hands betrayed him, flinging his shirt aside into the grass, heedless of grass stains.

“Sure. Why not? Just barge on in anywhere you please,� she chided him. She busied herself with scooping up her hair and bunching it up, wringing out crystal rivulets of water from it. The locks sprung back into shining curls as she flicked them back over her shoulder.

“It’s a free country, last I checked. Ya don’t own the lake.� He tugged his undershirt off in one stroke, revealing a body that made her words die on her lips.

Say what you wanted about Logan at first glance. The loner’s scowl, the mulish, flat line of his mouth, or the way he wore his hat so that his eyes peered out from shadow, chilling anyone who dared to search them.

Her face held something akin to silent awe.

He was so beautiful.

Logan’s body wasn’t built on the tall, lanky lines of Scott’s, Doug’s or Japheth’s, or even the “happy medium� frame of Jamie’s. He was broad through his shoulders and chest, oh, so broad. He was the ideal “V� shape bodybuilders strove for with a firm, tapered waist, but this wasn’t a man who tanned, oiled and preened. His skin was ruddy with good health and slightly tanned from time working in the sun with Mr. Ramsey in the greenhouse and on the grounds. He wore jeans like a glove; they molded to his supple, hard glutes and muscular legs and cupped his crotch, begging any woman walking to risk a downward glance, just for a moment…

Fine dark hair covered his chest, neatly following the tapering shape of his torso and taut belly – a perfect six-pack, no less; curse him, Ororo thought – and leading below the waistband of his jeans. His navel was an inny. Ororo wondered if he was ticklish. More of that hair graced his forearms and faded to a sprinkle over the backs of his hands.

Shallow veins ran along his forearms, which bulged. She mentally counted his muscle groups with her eyes. Deltoids. Hamstrings. Triceps. Quads. Biceps. Trapezius. Scapula…ohh. He had a beautiful back. That was his only concession to breaking their stare when he turned to toss a silver chain holding his dog tags onto the log. He faced her again, eyes blazing in the dark. Shadows picked out the slopes and hollows of his proud cheekbones and heavy, arched brows. He had a wide mouth that was capable of a warm, easy smile when he felt like it, but that was an elusive, rare gift he seldom offered anyone. The notch in his upper lip was deep and sharp, begging to be tasted. A wicked cleft in his chin was equally tempting and yet another detail the casual viewer would miss if Logan scared them off. That thick, unruly hair waved back from a broad forehead; he had a stubborn widow’s peak that added to his rakish looks. He didn’t have a pretty boy’s nose; it was long and aquiline and thoroughly belonged on a rugged face like his.

The harsh rip of his zipper separating tore her from her trance. The heavy denim dropped to the grass with a plop. Ororo felt warmth flood her center and tingle over her skin. Her nipples had already stiffened into wicked little knots with the rush of cool water, but now they ached, screaming for his touch.

He took reckless pleasure in baring himself to the night air and her hungry gaze, a liberty he had no time for in the confines of her room. More of that crisp, dark hair covered his legs, picking out the bulge of springy muscles that marked him as someone who ran and climbed, or as he had today, rode motorcycles with abandon. He was stripped down to his boxers, but the flimsy cotton still felt too stifling around his member that was calling the shots the longer he watched her. Down, boy. His erection wasn’t listening to him, and Common Sense ducked out of the party as soon as she took that first deep breath.

She fought to shake off that thrall that held her motionless, swaying slightly as the water lapped at her, seeming to push her toward the shore. His eyes pulled at her, but she just licked her lips and silently challenged him.

“You’re a pain in the butt, did anyone ever tell you that?�

“Not in those words,� he huffed, giving her a shrug with one brawny shoulder.

“Bet you didn’t listen then.�

“Didn’t hear ya, darlin’, ya wanna speak up?�

“Fine. Go.� She tried to make her voice stony. She almost succeeded.

“Not til I’ve had my swim.�

“Take a shower instead.�

“Ain’t in the mood fer a shower.�

“You are now.� With that pronouncement, her eyes swirled an arctic blue before clouding over a blinding white. The wind picked up again, and Logan realized the origin of that “dangerous� feeling in that air stood dripping before him, sexy as hell.

She made it rain. Cold, pelting drops that missed their purpose to drive him off. It felt exhilarating against his hot, bare skin, and his eyes closing in rapture betrayed that fact.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. He just looked hotter when he made that face.

“I needed that,� he rumbled over the sound of the raindrops hitting the banks and crashing into the lake, destroying its placid surface, “but I need that swim more, and I ain’t in the mood ta wait. Come on out if ya want, darlin’. I ain’t stoppin’ ya, but I’m comin’ in.�

Excitement clenched in her gut. There came those goosebumps again, and the strange feeling that she was standing on the edge and about to tumble into the abyss. But Ororo was a woman who could soar.

She wasn’t afraid of the look in his eyes as his foot broke the glossy wavelets and as he waded through the muddy bottom. The wind rustled through his hair and tore at the cotton shorts he wore, sharply outlining his stiffness. She didn’t flinch back from the determination in his gait or the smooth strokes of his hands cleaving through the water as he wandered in deeper…deeper…

She didn’t recognize her own voice when she spoke.

“You only get needy with me,� she pointed out wryly. “You need a swim. You need to talk. You need to hold me. You need to fix my hair. Need, need, need,� she sighed. Her toes curled at the memory of that night in her loft. “You’re a demanding man.�

No one’s held you. No one’s comforted you, darlin’. Not like ya need ta be, because ya’ve convinced everyone ya don’t need it.

“Long as I’ve been alive, darlin’, no one’s ever handed anything over ta me. I need something, I might ask ya real nice before I just take it, anyway.� He didn’t sound sorry.

“I don’t hear you asking me.�

“Haven’t decided what I want from ya yet.�

“You don’t need to hold me?� Amusement curled her lips. They were invitingly full and red from her immersion in the water.

His hands shot out and clamped themselves around her upper arms, jerking her flush against his body. Her mouth was already partially open in surprise before he claimed it savagely, plundering it with his kiss. She moaned beneath the assault, once again driving him past his limits. Her hot cheeks were framed by his hands as he slanted her face to better taste her, sampling the textures and flavors she had to offer. Ororo felt her hands wander over that superb body, exploring its solid contours and feathering over that wiry hair.

All Logan felt was her body’s welcome and sensations that threatened to overwhelm him and sweep him away. There was no fear in her response to him, only yearning and need that he found ironic. Who was the needy one, after all? Her fingers combed through and clutched his hair, tugging on it to tip his mouth up to better meet his kisses, undoing the disparity in their heights.

He roamed her body, kneading it and molding it to him greedily. She was made to be touched and savored. Her skin was satiny smooth beneath his hands. Her nipples grazed his chest, thrust forward by the water that made her breasts bob slightly against him. His mouth blazed a hot trail down her chin, nibbling it before descending the column of her throat. He tasted her pulse and made her cry out before giving into the temptation that would surely ruin him. He cupped the firm, sculpted globe of her breast, lovingly teasing the nipple with his thumb before he engulfed it in the fiery heat of his mouth.

Ororo gave a strangled cry and arched against him as his tongue flattened and swirled around the morsel. He suckled hard, making hoarse sounds of ecstasy at her taste and the feel of her in his mouth. He pulled sensations through her body, centering on her nipples but that made heat and tingling electricity flow every erogenous zone in her body.

His palms gripped and coveted her ass, savoring it, too as she ground against him, wanting so much more.

“Needy,� he rasped, breathing over her nipple, nibbling a lazy circle around it before sucking it back inside. “Ya didn’t lie, darlin’.� Rhythmically he began to work her against himself, groping her so that her curls abraded him underwater, friction growing between them despite his boxer shorts. “I need ta hold ya. All night long. I need ta taste ya. I need ta hear ya makin’ those sexy sounds that ya are right now. I’m all about need right now.� His mouth drifted from one breast to the other; he was no less ardent, partaking of the nourishment she offered long and slow. She clung to him, and all around them nature responded to their passion.

Birds took wing from the pending storm. Logan dimly heard the thunder over the frantic beat of Ororo’s heart.

Her mouth chanted short prayers and moved over his face and hair. She ducked her head to nip at his ear, sucking it between her lips. That was a hot spot that made him work himself against her more urgently. He was nearly riding him. The cotton of his boxers provided no barrier between her throbbing, tight little pearl and his shaft. Legs lean and taut from riding horses for most of her life wrapped themselves smoothly around his waist, making him groan.

There was no turning back. He was wrapped in her embrace, nothing between them except lust and bare skin, and he couldn’t wait. Couldn’t rationalize. Couldn’t think. All he could do was feel.

The rain never stopped. It assailed his senses and heightened the scent of her skin and the surrounding woods. It seasoned her skin as he lapped at her neck where it joined her shoulder while he pulled them through the water, letting it sheet off their bodies as they reached the shore. She was no longer weightless once they were aground, but he still carried her like she weighed nothing, giving her a sense of feminine satisfaction to be held so possessively.

They sank to the grass; his knees simply buckled, and her legs still straddled him, wrapping around him as they sat erect and pressed together, locked in a kiss that wouldn’t end. She gradually began to rock against him, creating a rhythm that found her heat milking him, rubbing seductively over his hardness and claiming it for her own. Her flesh was swollen with need. She moved against him because she couldn’t stop, he just felt too good.

Damn it! She just had to make this hard! Lust roared through his veins as she dominated the kiss. He bucked and strained beneath her, driven by his cock’s needs and the struggle to breach her, to bury himself in her depths. Her rhythm was broken by his hands working her back for just an agonizing moment, freeing himself from his shorts. He gave in and let her rock him back into the grass, hovering over him as she whisked his shorts off and flung them away. Her face was insistent, and her eyes still held that brilliant white light, blazing hot stars glowing out from her face. Burning him.

“Finally,� she muttered as she covered him. Her body rippled over him at first contact, and he groaned again at the luxury of her skin against his and the sweet press of her clit rubbing his shaft, which was so engorged that he ached. She drank raindrops from his fevered face and then from his mouth. Her hair was hopelessly tangled now but still felt satisfying to wrap his hands in. His palms skimmed over every muscle and slope of her back and her ripe ass. She was undoing him that easily. He was fast losing control.

He couldn’t lose control.

She was already lapping a path down his chest, delicately teasing one of his flat nipples until it strained toward her lips before he stopped her. She looked up into his face, confused.

“Lie down,� he ordered sternly. “We’re gonna do this right. I need this.�

Need. She nodded and complied, welcoming him into her arms as she rolled to her back. He craved her touch, and that mouth on him, but he needed their coupling more than anything else now. Once he was sated, they could revisit the use of those lips…

His fingers traced the valley between her breasts as he kissed her, teasing the tender dip of her navel and feathering over her smooth belly before he probed her flesh. She arched and bucked against his hand. His name was abbreviated and hissed out through her teeth as he thrust his fingers inside.

She felt like hot silk, pulsing and squeezing around him and promising greater delight.

“Need you,� he grunted as he kissed the pulse in her neck, sucking out another bruise but unable to help it when she tasted to damned good. His mouth fell slack when she reached down to grip him in her hand, curling her fingers around his cock in a snug fist.

Holy…!

That was it. Logan was done. His hand slipped free and he wrested hers from him, making her stare up at him with a bereft expression on her face until he nudged himself between her legs. He scissored those long, graceful limbs around his waist and thrust inside her before she could even cry out.

He filled her, stretching her with a sweet ache that made her gasp and clench herself around him. His hips pumped themselves into her without any further thought or direction from him. His body belonged to her softness, and his needs wouldn’t be denied.

“God, ‘Ro! Oh, God!� His voice was broken and desperate, staring into her face as his hips pumped and pistoned, driving him deeper inside. She was snug, hot and lush. Her arms twined around him and her hips arched, urging him to continue harder, faster.

Ororo had no use for words. He felt solid and hot and hard, and he was driving everything from her brain except him, and perhaps her own name, since he was chanting it like that.

Oh, he felt incredible. Around them the trees tossed in the wind again, drowning out the hollow slap of flesh against flesh.

He’d taken women.

He’d never experienced one before that made him lose himself. He was helpless against her passion and her desire for him and the way she surrendered herself to him so fully. Her lips mapped out his neck and bit him back, only because she couldn’t stand it, he felt too good, too right…too…oh.

Oh.

Friction, pulsing hot and fast. So much anticipation and the thrill of building pressure, and pleasure. White-hot. Faster. Bigger. Harder. More. The dampness of the ground at her back was the only thing that buffered her from impending grass burn as Ororo rocked beneath him, adopting his rhythm. His shoulders throbbed from the sweet ache and exhaustion, both from his ride earlier and this one now. Every vein and muscle in him strained and worked as he led them to the crescendo. His climax loomed nearer, earth-shaking and promising to rob him of breath. He felt Ororo convulse and contract around him, skipping a beat only to tighten even more…

He released. Fulfillment gripped him and he exploded long and hard, bucking and jerking inside of her. His face was a mask of shock as he stared into her eyes, disbelieving that she did that to him. She rode it out with him, those final pumps of his hips pushing her over the edge.

Spasms welled up and made her arch up against him, gasping as her orgasm waxed and rose over her threshold. She was dying. Dying. Nothing in this life felt the way she did right now, sheltering this man inside her body. His arms gave out; she caught him and clung to him, not wanting to let him go. Her own legs felt limp as noodles. They fell away from his waist and she let them tangle with his in the wet grass as they listened to the thundering rain hitting the ground.

Gradually the downpour dwindled to a gentle sprinkle, then condensed to a fine mist. They basked in each other’s labored breathing and gentle touches that seemed to cherish as well as caress. He leaned up from her just enough to search her face, flicking away a speck of grit from her cheek. Her fingertips stroked the stubble over his jaw, then his lips. Her eyes were blue again, the color of morning glories.

“What’ve we done?�

“I don’t know,� she admitted, but she drew him down for a kiss that betrayed that she didn’t care.


~0~

Jean barely tasted dinner. They only made it through three songs before she felt the evidence of Scott’s anticipation and their shared impatience on the dance floor. He felt stiff and smooth through his clothes and the satin warmed by her skin.

Need. Plain and simple. He dashed through the crowd for their coats, leaving her craving him and staring at his retreating back like a motherless child. Don’t go! But hurry! His lips twisted in a grin as he caught that random thought from her.

They made it upstairs, both of them glad they’d chosen a hotel that had a three-star restaurant and four-star rooms.

Once inside, lips and hands overruled reason as they stumbled together against the locked door. She smothered his exclamation of amusement as she kicked off her pumps and began wrangling him out of his shirt, hopelessly wrinkling it.

His fingers painted her with his desire, scorching her as he dragged the zipper down, opening her dress to her waist. The air of the hotel suite felt cool at her back through the satin. He peeled the sleeves away and stepped back, sucking in a breath.

Green satin against peaches and cream skin. Black lace trimming the low neckline of the gown, framing perfect breasts. He stroked it, answering the fine fabric’s siren call, scorching wherever he touched.

Out of nowhere she wanted to see his eyes. Her voice was muffled slightly in his neck as he snaked his arm around her waist. She peeled the undershirt from his hot skin, running her hands over him, unable to get enough. His kisses were needy and came at her in a sweet rush, stealing her breath.

“Scott!� she cried.

“Jean! Damn it, Jean, just look at you!� He moaned in pleasure at the taste of her, the sight of color blooming in her cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to glow in the darkened suite. For him.

“I wish…I wish…�

“What? Tell me.�

Your face. Your eyes, Scott. I want to see your eyes. He stopped. She clung to him, but he stopped, and his face was suddenly grave.

“You know why you can’t. Why I can’t show you,� he said aloud.

Scott…please. Her expression was wounded and plaintive. He shook his head, hating himself for denying her.

“I can’t.�

You can. Please.

“I’ll hurt you! Jean…I’d never hurt you. Never you. Don’t you understand? I won’t risk you, even…� He faltered.

Even if you want to show yourself to me, too?

I don’t want to hide any part of me from you, Jean. But I can’t do anything about this. I’m so sorry.

Scott…feel me.

What?

Feel me. Concentrate on how you feel with me, right now. He felt her caress him, but not with her fingers, or her lips.

Slowly her telekinesis stroked him, feathering over every molecule in his body, bathing every cell in warmth and her desire. He went stiff and then shuddered out a hungry breath.

He swallowed harshly and reached for her, cupping her face and combing through her rich coppery hair.

I have you. I won’t let go.

Jean…

Please, Scott. Please.

You don’t know how you affect me.

I think I do. I want you. I need you, Scott. But I need to see you.

“All right,� he whispered, and he didn’t draw back when she lifted his glasses from his face.

Coffee brown eyes drifted over her features reverently as he continued touch her lightly and with great care. “Jean,� he confirmed. She nodded, kissing his fingertip as he stroked the curve of her lip.

“You have beautiful eyes, Scott Summers.�

“Only when I’m with you. All I can see is you.�

I love you, Jean.

“Oh, Scott!� she whimpered into his mouth. They sank onto the mattress as he roved over her body, taking his time with the satin scrap of a nightgown. Its green sheen gave way to bare skin and it soon lay in a shining puddle in the corner of the room…where Jean fantasized about seeing it before when they went into the store in the first place.

Oh, Scott…

He saw her, all of her various colors without the oppressive ruby quartz lenses tainting them. The luscious tourmaline pink of her lips, and the darker rose of her nipples. Soft titian curls between his legs when he reached down to pluck her. The flush of her pale skin as he kissed every inch of her. The pearly white teeth that nipped at the edge of his thumb as he parted her lips.

When she engulfed him, descending over him and bathing him in her heat, he simply closed his eyes and let her sweep him away. She made love to him leisurely, appreciating him and holding nothing back. Her thoughts, emotions and body belonged to Scott.

She was about to be proven wrong…

He climaxed. She followed soon after, cleaving to him and moaning his name into his neck as she went limp. She exercised control, never releasing her telekinetic grip over his optic blasts. He stared up at her in mute wonder, simply caressing her face and hair in shameless worship.

In his dark realm, Farouk laughed, an ugly, guttural sound.

Jean reached for his glasses and handed them to him, gifting him with one last peck before she tottered off to the bathroom. He watched her in hazy bliss as he donned the spectacles, then stared up at the ceiling, spent.

He wasn’t expecting the invasive, tingling pain that surged through his body, or the way the room around him seemed to shift and warp, as though someone turned him upside down. He heard the running water in the bathroom but didn’t manage to cry out before his consciousness was ripped, torn and bleeding, and shoved away beneath lock and key. His body jerked. In the cold darkness Scott screamed.

In the warm tangle of sheets, Farouk smiled and pulled them back to allow Jean to snuggle into his side. When she fell asleep, his body lay curled around her, and the useless glasses winked up from the small waste bin beside the bed.

"'How do you feel, my child?' he resumed, after a pause of discomfiture.
"'Quite well, thank you.'
"'I mean, what do you feel like?'
"'Like nothing at all, that I know of.'
"'You must feel like something.'
"'I feel like a princess with such a funny papa, and such a dear pet of a queen-mamma!'
"'Now really!' began the queen; but the princess interrupted her.
"'Oh! yes,' she added, 'I remember. I have a curious feeling sometimes, as if I were the only person that had any sense in the whole world.’'

-- George McDonald, The Light Princess

He’d taken to watching her.

He felt like a stalker; it figured. She made him deranged. Well, more deranged than before.

*

She knew he was watching her again. That lingering awareness swept through her body, almost a caress on her skin. It wasn’t unpleasant. It didn’t surprise her. She was growing used to it.

Once in a while, she’d give him a show.

Mealtimes.

Ororo and Logan were both early risers, despite their respective, less than ideal sleeping patterns. Their bodies instinctively shortened the duration of the nightmares that plagued them – his that killed his soul a piece at a time, hers that she couldn’t recall – by rousing them from bed at dawn.

Ororo wasn’t a breakfast addict like Moira, Stevie or Jean. Cold cereal, yogurt or an apple dashed under the faucet and eaten on the way to the university campus or the stables were good enough for her. Brunches were spent with Charles on the weekends because it warmed him. Recent, unsettling revelations aside, Ororo loved her father.

Her knight in shining armor normally stomped downstairs dressed for the day in his worn denim and battered leather boots. His eyes were unreadable.

But they followed her.

Ororo didn’t make a move that his eyes didn’t stalk. He’d peer over the rim of his coffee cup or around the edge of the sports pages. Periodically she’d find him by her side, flanking the refrigerator door just as she emerged from it with the jug of orange juice.

She paid him little heed, but she was well aware of him.

Moira brought in a basket of peaches harvested from Charles’ orchard on the north side of the estate. They were nearly the death of Logan.

She teased him. Flagrantly. Unapologetically.

“These look nice,� she murmured, smiling at their soft flesh that dented slightly as she picked one up. She sniffed it briefly and made a small “mmmm� of approval before biting into it with her even, white teeth.

Logan’s cup paused in mid-air as he watched, hearing her tear through the ripe, moist fruit. She didn’t eat delicately. She took one large bite after another, sucking the juice from her fingers and the peach’s golden skin. Her lips slid over it to catch the drops of sticky pulp.

Jean chose that time to come downstairs, fresh and ready for the day.

“Hey, look who’s…up,� she greeted, letting her voice die at the spectacle.

She watched Logan sitting rooted to the spot, mesmerized by Ororo’s ritual of devouring the fruit as she leaned over the sink. Her breasts were thrust forward with her stance, ribcage against the edge of the counter.

She was thorough, momentarily ignoring Jean as she sucked off the last thick chunk of pulp from the end of the pit. She plucked the tiny nub of its center from her teeth with finger and thumb before licking those, too.

Jean saw what Logan saw, but in a different context.

She just doesn’t care. She was just as silent as Logan as she crossed the kitchen and retrieved a container of oatmeal from the pantry.

“Good, ‘Ro?� she inquired.

“Mmmm. Mm-hmmmmm,� she agreed as she turned briefly to her sister. Ororo tucked the pit into a paper towel before she washed her hands. “Morning.�

“Yes it is,� she replied, raising her eyebrows. Logan grunted before going back to his paper.

“What are you doing today, Jean?�

“Class. Then lunch with Scott, maybe even a movie.�

“I’m surprised he’s not already down here. Usually, he makes it downstairs before you do.�

“I know. It’s odd,� Jean remarked. “He’s become more nocturnal, lately. Up all night, sleeps all day.�

“Isn’t being a vampire fun?� Ororo smirked, quoting one of her favorite movie slogans. The Lost Boys DVD was a staple of Scott’s collection, earning him coolness points.

“Goofball,� Jean muttered. Her expression was slightly troubled as she measured some oatmeal into a saucepan. “It’s just weird.�

“You’ve never had a problem with weird. I’m weird, and you loved me first.�

“Well, no duh.� Jean tracked down a box of raisins in the cupboard.

“Part of the job description, livin’ in this school,� Logan retorted.

It always ruffled Jean’s feathers that she couldn’t read Logan. His emotions and impressions were so guarded that even a light mind touch gave her a headache. At least Ororo allowed her inside for brief visits from time to time, even if she didn’t let her in past the front door. Again, there was a wall around the core of her psyche. Jean couldn’t even peek over the edge.

Yet she loved her, anyway.

But Logan…he presented a quandary. Why was he still there? What was his purpose? What did he want from Ororo?

Jean ignored the obvious. Sure, he wanted her body. Everyone wanted that; poor Douglas still turned red as a beet whenever Ororo emerged from the locker room in her gym clothes or bathing suit. Jamie was similarly afflicted whenever they visited Kinross. Only Japheth was immune. Ororo was his sister in all of the ways that mattered.

Ororo had been vague about a conversation she’d had with Charles and Moira. Charles had actually sent for Logan to come live at the school. He’d known Ororo as a child? The concept confused Jean.

Jean knew Ororo could be off-putting, to say the least. Logan wasn’t her only admirer. Visits with Ororo to the university were always amusing. Traffic stopped for her, literally. A hot dog vendor broke out in song to impress her while they grabbed two cheese franks before Ororo’s third period lecture. Ororo’s clothing was partly to blame. Her mutant gift adjusted her internal body temperature and her perception of how cold or hot the weather was so that she was always comfortable. She wore simple dresses that fluttered and clingy sweaters while everyone around her bundled themselves in trenchcoats and boots, or low necklines and barely there shorts or her beloved jeans during the summer months.

She was blunt. She was abrupt. She listened avidly to other people’s conversations but seldom engaged them. Her smile was always measured and her laughter was rare, even restrained. She reacted casually to requests for her phone number.

Men loved it. Stevie claimed it put the hook in ‘em. Of the masses, Ororo had selected only a few lovers. She never invited them to the school, much to everyone’s relief, but as a result, everyone burned with curiosity when she returned from her outings rumpled, yet serene.

If Logan objected to Ororo exercising her physical freedom, he didn’t voice it. Indeed, the loner attracted his own fair share of admirers. Women crossed streets and rooms to speak to him. Waitresses brought him generous helpings or an extra beer, on the house.

But he wasn’t just some grinning, hopeless case with a hard-on for Ororo. No. He merely watched her intently, with hungry eyes. His body changed imperceptibly when she entered a room. His muscles stiffened and he sat more erect, more on his guard. His movements slowed to a bare minimum, as though he wanted no distractions. When anyone else hovered around Ororo – Scott, for example – he edged closer to her, almost shadowing her. Without reading his mind, he projected possession and protectiveness of which Jean read volumes.

Jean considered that odd, as well. He’d growled at Scott. More than once, in recent days, despite that they never actually argued. At least, they hadn’t argued any more than two men discussing the merits of different football teams. Pissing contests didn’t count as arguments in Jean’s book.

Yet…he was more hostile toward Scott lately. And Scott reacted to it in ways Jean never expected, not as his usual sunny self. Aloof. Amused. His stance changed in response to Logan’s presence. His stares seemed to linger too long. He stood too close. The corners of his mouth curled below his ruby quartz glasses smugly, and in Jean’s mind, at Logan’s expense?

Jean’s oatmeal began to bubble on the stove. Ororo dove back into the refrigerator for the juice. She filled a tall glass three-quarters full without even setting it down on the counter and tipped it back thirstily, finishing it in long swallows. Her gulps sounded loud in the stark silence of the kitchen. Naturally, Logan watched her. The cords of muscle in her slender throat worked down the liquid, making him remember how it felt to kiss her there, and to taste her pulse. Before the glass was empty, Ororo poured herself a few more ounces and gulped that down, too.

Jean shook her head. “Why not just drink it out of the carton?�

“It’s already got Scott’s cooties,� Ororo shrugged as she put it back in the fridge. Jean wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Ew…�

“Bye,� she called back, sparing Logan only a glance. Jean was surprised that he didn’t look thwarted with her speedy departure, merely annoyed.

She didn’t see the havoc Ororo had wrought with her usual antics. Logan had a raging hard-on.

“What are your plans for the day?�

“This an’ that,� he offered politely. Jean poured herself some coffee and automatically held up the carafe, beckoning to him. He nodded and slid his cup to the edge of the table. She picked it up and refilled it for him, and his smile was casual. “Gonna wait fer Charley t’get up and let me know if he’s got anything on his docket.�

“Good.�

“He mentioned somethin’ ‘bout a trip, too.�

“Did he?�

“Yep.�

“On the road?�

“Nope.� He took a noisy gulp of the strong black brew. Jean sighed.

“Is he flying?�

“Probably.�

“Where did he say he was going?�

“Scotland,� Logan shrugged.

“What?�

“Scotland. Y’know, across the pond, kinda cold, lots of castles?�

“Cut me some slack. What I meant was, why is he going?�

“Ask the old man. I ain’t got a clue. Only thing that matters ta me is makin’ sure there’s someone ta hold down the fort while he’s gone.�

“So he’s leaving that up to you?�

“Yep.�

“Stevie could do that.�

“She’s part of the fort,� he corrected her tersely. “Goes without sayin’, darlin’ that I’ll be lookin’ out fer her, too.�

“Now she can rest easy,� Jean sighed. Yet she knew she could. As hard as Logan was, and as uncomfortable as he’d made Jean feel from the day he arrived, there was something about him that made her feel protected, somehow. He reminded her of a pit bull.

“Safe an’ snug as a bug in a rug,� he quipped over the edge of his cup. He went back to ignoring her, rapt with his own thoughts.

Scott came down some time later, just as Logan finished the dregs of his cup.

His hackles flared as he caught Slim’s scent.

It was all wrong. He still couldn’t put his finger on it. He suppressed the growl emerging from his throat and peered out from behind the newspaper.

Scott came up behind Jean and mauled her neck. “Scott!� she protested on a near-squeal. He ignored her. His smile was…off. Not just playful.

Just…off. If Logan had to put his finger on it, it was too sly. There wasn’t anything sly about Summers.

He was still manhandling Jean, wrapping his arms around her waist in a viselike grip. The arc of his body against hers was too snug, too greedy. Her face flushed from the familiarity in front of Logan, even though Jean knew it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

“You didn’t wait for me,� he accused. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up.� Embarrassment prickled over Jean’s flesh.

“Scott!� she hissed. Logan didn’t even flinch. “You were out like a light. I had things to do.�

“You don’t have anything to do that doesn’t involve me,� he reasoned simply. Jean snorted, but then she realized his grip hadn’t loosened around her waist. She batted at his hands.

“I’d ask if you were hungry, Scott, but I can see you’re full of yourself. Here. Sit, I’ll make you some breakfast. Want oatmeal?� He made a noise of disgust. Logan couldn’t blame him. “Well, what then?�

“What do you have?� Jean rolled her eyes and dutifully opened the fridge.

“Eggs, orange juice,� she catalogued, “bacon, potatoes, sausage, cheese for an omelet, mushrooms for said omelet, ham-“

“That,� Scott said.

“Which one?�

“All of it.�

“Scott, silly! Pick one! Let’s finish up and skedaddle. You said you were gonna help me run errands today. I’ve got some things on your honey-do list.�

“I meant it. I want everything.� Jean stared agog, brow furrowed.

“Ooo-kay,� she murmured. Jean retrieved the frying pan hanging from the hook over the range. Blue flames flared from the burner and she began cracking eggs.

“I thought you only did a big breakfast for Sunday brunch,� she accused.

“Things change.�

Things had changed. Scott was different. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

He was moodier. There was something indiscernible and dark in him.

He lost his concept of personal space. He was constantly crowding her, groping her at inappropriate times. His demeanor was calm and indolent when she told him to stop.

He’d begun to criticize her clothes. He’d surprised her by bringing her a gift two days ago. Lingerie.

Only…it didn’t suit her. Not at all.

It was unrepentantly red, not an elegant and simple gown or even a bra and panty set. No. This was…how could she put it…obscene. Yes. That.

The fabric was translucent and see-through, leaving nothing to the imagination, even the unwire cups. The bottoms were a crotchless thong…really, what was the point of even putting anything on? She wanted to ask him if he was joking when he told her to wear it for him.

Nevertheless, Jean was a good sport. She tried it on. Her voice was shy when she beckoned to him to show it off.

His mouth twisted into a hungry smile, not unlike a shark’s, right before he attacked her.

Jean shivered at the memory. He’d been insatiable. Scott made love like a man deprived, pounding into her fiercely and leaving her breathless. Tenderness fell away in the face of lust. Even when Jean persuaded him to remove his glasses again so she could look deep into his eyes, she was unsure of what she saw. Cold purpose seemed to radiate from him; he acted in the interest of his own pleasure, not hers.

He seemed to want…control.

Deep within Scott’s mind, he screamed. Farouk’s red demon’s eyes glowed at him in the dark. He stroked the cool links of Scott’s chains and twisted them in his grip.

Victor was easy. Scott needed more persuasion.

“Tired?� Farouk offered sweetly. “Rest, then.�

“C-can’t. Won’t. Stop,� Scott hissed.

He was helpless, and Scott hated himself, thanks to Farouk. All around him, scenes of his life flashed by, overwhelming him.

He felt himself falling, hurtling toward the earth. His boyish scream was shrill and mingled with his brother’s as he held onto him. Scott’s arms burned from the effort but he couldn’t let go. He smelled smoke; to his horror, the parachute caught fire from the falling embers of their father’s plane…

There was nothing he could do. They were going to die, and there was nothing at all that Scott could do…

Scott woke up screaming, his arms empty. The social worker told him hollowly that they never found his brother. The wreckage of his father’s plane was empty, no bodies, no survivors.

Self-hatred shared equal time with humiliation and shame as more of Scott’s memories unfolded around him.

The orphanage. He was the freak with the headaches and nightmares. They beat him up every night, especially the dark-haired boy named Nathan. It became worse when they prescribed him the reading glasses with the weird red lenses, as though he wasn’t hated enough already.

Farouk savored the negative emotions rolling off of Scott like fine wine. He was delicious.

He drained him like a parasite. Farouk was crafty. He hid in plain sight, using Scott’s psyche as a shield from detection. Charles and Jean were blissful in their ignorance.

The Wolverine suspected something was amiss. That added to the anticipation and excitement.

Farouk saw Ororo through borrowed eyes and could barely contain himself. He knew Scott rarely, if ever, touched her, and he did his own best to keep his – Scott’s – hands to himself. He contented himself with Jean’s ripe body, but he visualized Ororo each time he took her. Ororo the woman, Ororo the girl, it didn’t matter.

He knew about her clandestine swims in the lake. Unlike the other residents of the school, he didn’t turn a blind eye out of politeness. Scott made his excuses and headed outside when the Professor sent Logan out on miscellaneous errands.

Farouk watched Ororo greedily when she stripped down and strode into the lake. His – Scott’s – hands itched to reach for her and claim her flesh. She hummed to herself as she poured handfuls of cool water over herself, splashing her shoulders, chest and belly. When she was finally submerged, she flipped onto her back and floated beneath the shade of the tall oak, staring up at the sky. Her breasts bobbed above the surface of the water, deep brown nipples rosy and erect, and her ivory hair fanned out around her head.

Farouk couldn’t help himself and didn’t try. He freed himself from Scott’s relaxed fit jeans and found his throbbing cock with slightly clammy palms. His grip was rough and desperate as he jerked himself to the sight of her. She was sensuous and wild and fresh, and Farouk wanted her.

Including her soul.

He came, forcing himself to remain silent despite the pleasure and hot wetness exploding between his thighs.

Ororo rose out of the water in a rush of droplets, a dark Venus, completely free. The wind held her aloft and whipped around her, making her skin tingle. Her eyes that once resembled the sky now rivaled the clouds, and the air was charged with electricity and ozone.

Something was amiss…

Someone was watching her. She could feel it.

She must have imagined it. The air was still; the wind carried no sounds to her, no voices or footsteps.

Farouk nearly lost himself every time, coming closer and closer to being discovered, but it was worth the risk.

*


“Scott, let’s go,� Jean reminded him once he cleaned his plate. The breakfast dishes could wait, she thought impatiently. She champed at the bit for him to rise and hold open the kitchen door. “Goodbye, Logan.�

“Have fun, kids,� he offered dryly. His eyes were dark and heavy over the edge of his newspaper. Scott’s smirk was slow and calculating. Logan’s knuckles itched.


*

Kinross, Scotland:


Eilish Madrox wiped her hands on a dish towel and put the finishing touches on a dinner tray for Kevin. Her son Jamie came in just as she prepared to head to Moira’s lab, Japheth in tow.

“That smells good,� Jamie said. Japheth looked indifferent.

“Wash up,� she ordered. “And eat it at the kitchen table today. I just cleaned the dining room up, and I don’t need you two heathens dropping crumbs on my nice carpet.�

The boys obediently served themselves; Jamie ladled himself a plate of mashed potatoes, beans and meatloaf while Japheth merely poured himself some tea.

Eeny and Meeny made a meal out of Eilish’s geraniums down the front walkway nearly an hour before. Japheth wouldn’t need sustenance for six hours.

“How’s Kev doing?� Jamie asked around a mouthful of beans.

“Find out for yuirself,� Eilish told him. “Wouldn’t hurt the two o’ ye t’visit the poor boyo.�

“It’s just…weird.� Japheth shuddered at the most recent trip he’d made to the lab to drop off Kevin’s dinner. His face and body…they kept changing and shifting, and it disconcerted him. Kevin knew the effect he had on those who watched him, and he made no attempt to assure them that he meant them no harm.

They honestly didn’t know if that was true.

“Visit him. He has no peers his own age, and he’s lonely.�

“Could’ve fooled this boykie,� Japheth muttered, stirring an extra packet of sugar into his drink. “Called me a freak the last time I set foot in there, ma’am.�

“Let it go. Water off a duck,� Eilish suggested.

Eilish took Kevin’s meal down to him while the boys finished their meal and set their dishes in the sink.

“C’mon, let’s play football, then,� Jamie called out as he ran into the yard. Japheth grinned and grabbed the white and black ball from the washing machine alcove and followed him.

Neither of them felt the pair of large green eyes watching them from behind a tall birch tree.

“Och, he’s so big!� Rahne’s voice was awed as she spied Japheth. He seemed taller than she remembered and broader in physique. His hair was still that queer ashy white, a strange contrast with his dusky skin.

Jamie, on the other hand, made her sigh every time the boys came into town. He was boyishly handsome with his dark eyes and walnut brown hair. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled and he even had a few freckles beneath his eyes. His build was slender but nicely shaped, and she loved watching him run after the ball.

Reverend Craig said watching men and lusting after their bodies was sinful. Rahne mentally stuck out her tongue. She wasn’t lusting after him; she was merely infatuated with Jamie Madrox.

Her eyes roamed over Japheth. There was something about him…something different.

Was he like her?

The sounds and scents surrounding her were heady and sharp and Rahne felt a strange itching beneath her gums. Her tongue flicked over her lower canine tooth and to her annoyance, it felt slightly sharp. Her changes were harder to control lately, and she didn’t know what to do.

The Reverend said she was Devil’s spawn.

She applied herself to her scriptures and her studies, but he still found flaws and iniquities in her character and appearance. He despised her hair most of all, but she didn’t know why. There was hardly any of it to hate, she groused, running her fingers through the short, soft ripples that felt like the ruff of her neighbor’s large Samoyed bitch. The dog loved her. Every canine and lupine creature in the county loved Rahne Sinclair.

When Rahne looked in the mirror, she saw herself subjectively, just a plain girl with short, plain red hair and eyes that swallowed up her face. She didn’t know why the Reverend seemed to hate her, and with that in mind, why keep her?

Yet she knew why. He had appearances to maintain, and the denizens of Kinross saw him as a generous benefactor and as the pious conscience of their town. To their minds, it would be heartless to cast out the young orphan girl.

She dreamed of running away when phantom visions of the mother she never knew filled her dreams. She watched Japheth and Jamie in envy. They had the privilege of living with Moira. She regarded the kind doctor with a kind of hero worship, despite her guardian’s disdain for her.

Moira Kinross MacTaggert was a divorcee, one of the blackest sins that Reverend Craig could name. He despised her and her influence on his young ward.

Moira had been away for a long time, leaving little word of when she would go back. On the rare occasions when Rahne shyly approached Eilish in town, staring down at her feet as she asked when she would return, she was given disappointingly brief replies.

“She had matters tae attend, colleen,� she told her. “She’ll be back, I ken.�

Rahne only felt more hopeless.

She longed to abandon it all, this staid, dull life that she inherited when she lost her mother. She wanted to run with the wind howling in her ears and the grass crunching under her bare feet. No more thundering sermons, no more stifling clothing that hid every inch of her body even during the hottest months, no more lectures and beatings that made her back weep.

And Rahne longed to play with the freedom that Jamie and Japh enjoyed every day. Her snug turtleneck stifled her.

Voices disturbed her musings in the brush. “Where is she?�

“Saw her head this way, Father.�

“Och!� Rahne hissed. She felt a cold flush and fear twisted her belly.

“She’s worthless,� Reverend Craig swore, tsking. “She’ll come tae no good, like her mother. I’ve tried me best.�

“What can ye do? Things are different from when we were young.�

“Sin doesn’t change from one generation tae the next.� He cupped his hand around his mouth. “RAHNE!� His voice became more strident and angry, even guttural. “RAHNE! COME HOME, LASS!�

Rahne heard the grim intent in his voice. He intended to hit her again. And again. And again…

Panic seized her. She had to get away in the quickest manner possible.

She mustered her strength and fumbled with her clothing. Had it been any other time, she would have reveled in the cool air against her bare skin, but she had no time to enjoy it.

Rahne cast aside shame and modesty as she cast off the voluminous, long pleated skirt and turtleneck sweater, itchy wool socks and hard leather penny loafers that pinched her feet. She felt a sick little dip as the plain white bra and waist-high cotton drawers landed on top of the pile of clothes.

With that, she began to change.

A rash of russet brown strands erupted from her fair skin, covering her in ripples of fur. Her eyes shifted, slanting and becoming more deeply set, peering out over bony chops and a long muzzle. Rahne’s sturdy limbs were animated by springy muscle now, nails replaced by obsidian claws.

She growled reflexively in her throat. Japheth heard the sound from the bushes and froze in fear.

“Whuzzat!�

“Dog,� Jamie shrugged as he bounced the ball off his knees.

They nearly peed their pants as a full-grown, russet werewolf with striking gold eyes launched itself from the brush.

All she had to do was get away.

Reverend Craig found her abandoned clothing moments later. His face grew dark with anger and the realization that his worst fears had come to pass.

“Get thee behind me,� he whispered. Rahne’s turtleneck was twisted in his grip.


*

Westchester, three nights later:

Logan gave up on sleep. He felt his healing factor slowly doing its job, undoing some of the day’s abuse to his muscles as he sat up in bed. His window was open, allowing moonlight and crisp air to pierce the darkness. It helped. Slightly.

Every night since his tryst by the lake was like that, restless and unsettled. He remained hyper-vigilant, listening for the sounds, the words, that would propel him from his sweaty sheets. The cigar was burned down to the last chewed-up stub. Logan raked his fingers through his hair and gave his scalp a much-needed scratch.

Farouk. Logan still felt him, tasting him like a bitter tang. Just because he didn’t have Vic for a host didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, watching them.

Or worse, with them inside.

Logan couldn’t describe it.

Ororo was as blithe as ever. Her face never gave away the effect of their encounter. She would never tell him that she craved more… Ororo Munroe never admitted to needing anything.

Yet…he felt it. There was a charge between them, a current of sensual energy that made it hard to restrain himself from touching her. Only rarely did he indulge in a light hand at her lower back when he edged past her in a narrow space, or when he found the excuse to pick some bit of fluff from her sleeve or from her thick hair.

Why the hell was she putting him off?

Logan didn’t know if it was fortunate or not that he got his wish.

Ororo’s cry was uncharacteristically shrill and anguished, charged with fear. Adrenaline launched him out of bed, chucking the stub of his cigar into the tray. Clad only in his boxers, Logan raced down the hall and pounded up the stairs to the loft.

He flung open the door. “Ro!� he panted.

She was tangled in the sheets, back arched and body twisted in a struggle. Strangely, there was no moon shining through her sky light. It was suddenly obscured by thick clouds that even threatened the silver stars for miles.

“Ororo! Baby, wake up!�

“Nnnnn…� she whimpered. Her face was barely visible due to the lack of light, but Logan saw the pain written over her features. Her mouth peeled back in a grimace, and her voice sobbed out words he could barely understand.

“Sweetie, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,� he chanted, kneeling by the bed. He took her hand and quickly wished he hadn’t.

WHACK! She clocked him, stunning him. Logan reeled back, gripping his jaw and seeing spots.

“Shit,� he hissed. Ororo didn’t miss a beat. She was thrashing now on the bed and her voice sounded more frantic.

“Help me,� she whimpered, “please help me…Uncle…UNCLE!�

“Dear God,� Logan whispered. “Baby, wake up! D’ya hear me, ‘Ro? Wake up, now. I can’t let ya stay like this, baby!�

In response, her eyes snapped open and lit up with fiery moonlight. She stopped flailing and seizing and stared at him in wonder. Logan’s heart nearly stopped. His blood raced so quickly that he grew faint.

“Ororo,� he whispered, “what’s happenin’ to ya, darlin’?�

“Help…me,� she answered. “I…I need…�

Her voice was cut off by another attack of the thrashing and the rumble of thunder outside. It nearly drowned out her words.

Logan did the only thing he could.

He reached for her, wrenching her out of bed, since she seemed to loathe being strangled by the bedclothes. She clawed at him, kicking and crying out. Her fingernails raked his flesh, drawing blood as he carried her outside.

He held onto her for dear life.

She cursed him. Some of her words were Ainet’s, and they were shouted with indignant rage.

It was overwhelming, listening to her outpouring of emotion. He smelled her fear, her rage and he felt just as confused. She didn’t know what she was doing…

She made a guttural sound and beat her fists against his head, attempting to yank out his hair in tufts. Logan roared in pain but jerked open her balcony doors, dragging her into the fresh air. Her sobs sounded like growls, matching his as he fought against her, against her punishing hands.

He struggled with her, finding purchase enough to clamp her arms at her sides in an iron bear hug. “RO!� he barked. “Calm the fuck down!�

“Bad man,� she insisted, eyes still glowing and pinned on him. “Uncle says you’re a bad man.�

“Farouk,� Logan snapped. “That fucker ain’t family, ‘Ro. Ya wanna point the finger at the bad man, point it his way.�

“You,� she spat. “Killer.�

“I know that, darlin’. I ain’t gonna claim t’be anything else.� Yet it pierced him.

He couldn’t be more for her…

“You can’t hold me,� she insisted. Logan felt static running through his limbs. Her hair crackled to life, whipped by the winds and snapping against his skin from their closeness.

“That’s where yer wrong, ‘Ro. I’m never lettin’ ya go, so deal with it.�

“So be it.�

His nerve endings were on fire. Ororo glowed within the nexus of lightning she gathered around herself.

“EEERRRGGGGHH!!! Logan’s teeth were bared and nearly biting a hole in his lip as his body lashed back and forth in the effort to hold onto her.

Ororo felt the power coursing through her, and she reveled in it.

But why wasn’t this hard little man backing down?

Why wouldn’t he let her go?

The arcs of electricity dimmed their brightness and faltered as she considered this. Logan’s heart fought to pump, stopping briefly each time she gave him a hot charge. His hands spasmed around her, biting into her flesh.

“Stop,� she cried. “Stop making me hurt you!�

“I ain’t lettin’ go!�

“WHY?� The question was wrenched from her. His eyes were dilated and bloodshot and she felt his heart pounding against her. She struck him with her fists, punctuating her words. “Why…why are you making me-“

She couldn’t find the words. He read the confusion in her face, and her breath came out as a sob.

Ororo was crying.

“Why are…you making me feel?� she demanded.

She never expected his features to relax. He was rapt as he stared into her face.

“Because ya make me feel.� The wind whipped up around them and shook the trees, making them toss and shed branches. The sky was completely black except for flashes of bluish white lightning that seemed to be a part of their mistress. Her eyes were still lit with the same glow. She shook her head.

“You don’t feel,� she argued. “Killer.�

“Tell yerself that. Maybe you’ll be better off believin’ that, darlin’. But ya know that ain’t true.� She still squirmed to get loose, then summoned a gust strong enough to lift her from the balcony.

He held fast, cursing at the shift in his balance as his feet lifted off the ledge.

She decided he was a glutton for punishment. She wouldn’t deprive him.

Logan roared into the din as she flung them about in the wind, attempting to throw him off, even if it meant dashing him to the ground. His solid weight made it difficult and made her flight graceless and erratic.

She caught an eddy of air and increased its speed, its intensity, twisting it into a mini-cyclone. It swallowed them both and buffeted their senses.

Logan’s body couldn’t take much more abuse, but he felt, thought beyond that. His throat was parched and raspy from his ordeal, but she heard him. Every word.

“I was there the night ya changed, darlin’! I was there the night Farouk took whatever was inside ya that ya can’t feel. I couldn’t stop him. God knows I tried. I tried for ya, darlin’.� His failure consumed him on many a cold night. The storm was full of her resentment, in his eyes.

She blamed him, even if she couldn’t describe it.

“Ya can hate me,� he told her, even though it stabbed him.

Her cries were defiant and broken as she continued to fling them about. They spun in a dangerous waltz, headed straight for the eave of the roof.

Shingles cracked as they burst loose with their impact. She angled them so that Logan took most of the brunt. Splinters peppered his back.

She tried again. They hurtled toward the stables, but she faltered, not wanting to harm the horses.

She settled for a copse of trees.

Dozens of thick branches lashed at him, promising muscle-deep bruises and lacerations. He felt his skin split and his muscles burned from the effort to hold onto her, but more importantly, to keep her from hurting herself.

Logan!

Charles’ voice was loud in his mind and full of panic.

“Not now, Charley!� Logan spat. “Kinda busy here…�

“Daddy?� Ororo was roused from her fury. Her face softened for one precious instant, and Logan saw a glimpse of the innocent child he’d tried so hard to save.

She lost her concentration and her control of the winds. They rebelled against her and the cyclone died away, no longer holding them aloft.

They dropped like stones into the unforgiving lake.

Kevin had more than his fair share of being left alone.

Doctor Who blared in the background, but he was too caught up in his thoughts.

Mum was due to make another of her guilty visits home to see him. Kevin didn’t know why she bothered.

The landscape around him was unearthly and beautiful, an amalgam of the land and shore around Kinross Keep. The view kept changing, one scene changing from the next, even though it was fed to his chamber by the security cameras around Moira’s complex. Kevin could see his way out to her world, but how he saw it was up to him. Kevin could bend reality, including how he himself and others saw and felt it.

Nothing helped. He was living in his own idea of hell. He blamed Mum for it. She made him this way, and she kept him like this.

Eilish made insignificant attempts to keep him entertained, even consoled. She left cookies, comics and other comfort items in the small compartment adjacent to his chamber, sliding them into the tiny dumbwaiter. He mumbled his thanks, and she gave him those sympathetic smiles that he despised.

Visits from Japh and Jamie were taken with an equal lack of enthusiasm. And why should he be glad to see them? They went everywhere they wanted. Even though they were freaks – Japheth in particular – they could live their lives in the bodies God gave them, without endangering anyone else, or themselves.

Kevin’s body was unstable. His containment chamber bound him in an energy field that held his molecules in check, stabilizing them enough for him to retain cohesion, mentally and physically. In a sense, his body was energy.

He never regretted killing his father. He sensed no love in him; he was only a shell. Kevin still felt love for Mum, on some level that he couldn’t describe, perhaps the way a child loves a favorite toy.

Eventually, sooner than anyone thought, she would become his toy.

He turned his attention to the dense forest surrounding the north side of the keep. Everything else was relatively calm…

Someone was running away. Or…something?

He turned off the television with a thought, ignoring its brief beep and the screen flashing black.

His mind wasn’t in close enough range to the consciousness of his subject. It annoyed him. This was the most excitement he’d have all day.

He felt the light, faint touch of young thoughts. A girl’s, even though he couldn’t see the owner.

A large wolf darted out from the bushes, loping with difficulty into the clearing. Kevin could see it was exhausted from its uneven gait and the saliva dripping from its black lips. It was a beautiful animal, he mused, unlike the plainer gray ones that occasionally showed up, pushed out of their habitat by new construction in the county. This one had gorgeous russet fur and yellow eyes.

There was a commotion brewing behind her. He heard the rush of footsteps pounding the earth, mingling with angry cries. One man’s voice rose above the din.

“Sinner!�

“Judgment is nearly upon ye!�

“Get her!�

“She’s tirin’ out, Reverend!�

Three days. Rahne was exhausted and weak with hunger and thirst, and her body ached from muzzle to the tip of her tail.

She stumbled over a tree root, and they swarmed over her.

She growled and snarled, baring her teeth. She was clubbed behind her left ear for her troubles. She clawed and bit at the myriad hands trying to bind her. Someone brought a length of rope and began winding it around her flailing limbs. Rahne barked and flung her head back and forth. Her eyes looked sinister in the darkness, only enflaming the villagers more. Pain gripped her as the rope twisted more tightly around her ribs.

Jamie and Japheth watched from the perimeter, unnoticed.

“This is all wrong,� Jamie muttered. “Should’ve called animal control. Why all this trouble for one wolf?�

“Got me,� Japheth shrugged, but he felt just as unsettled. The wolf’s growls were dying down to low whines, and it tugged at him to see a living creature mistreated in such a way.

The local authorities warned them to stay indoors until they caught the lone wolf roaming through the countryside. They had no word yet as to whether it was rabid.

“We need to get in there and help it.�

“Nuh-uh! You won’t catch this boykie gettin’ that close t’that thing!�

“We can just let it go,� Jamie reasoned.

Kevin was the only one who saw the boys hovering back from the commotion, and he smirked.

“Useless sods,� he muttered.

They surprised him, though, when Jamie balled up his fist and socked himself in the chest. Then again, with a flourish. And again.

Soon he’d created his own mini-mob. Beside him, Japheth’s face was straining in agony as two small, strange growths erupted from his chest.

Kevin watched, rapt, as they dealt with the angry mob. His day suddenly became very, very interesting, indeed.

The wolf was writhing on the ground, held down by two men who were trying to gag it with the rope. Kevin still felt those panicked thoughts, more frantic this time, but he couldn’t tell who it was within the crowd broadcasting them. He felt pity for the animal and contempt for its captors. They were tormenting it when a shot to the head would have finished the job. Still, it was a waste of a fine beast.

All of the sudden, the tide of activity shifted. The crowd seemed to be fighting itself…

Kevin saw Jamie hauling a boy roughly his size away from the animal. He also made out a small, grayish…thing… leaping out at the Reverend, knocking the stake from his hand. Kevin frowned at such an extreme; really, who did the man think he was going after, bluidy Dracula?

Kevin dropped the cookie he’d been about to absorb – not eat, since he couldn’t process food like everyone else – and swore at the sight of the strange gray blob consuming the stake as it landed on the ground. The Reverend looked stricken. And sickened, if the way he turned away to wretch was any indication…

“Oh, bravo,� Kevin murmured.

Jamie popped up amidst the crowd again…and again…and again?

Kevin knew that his mother described those two bastards as being “like him,� but he didn’t buy it. Not until now…

He was fascinated by the sight of the strange gray creature oozing along the grass and slithering back up Japheth’s body. It disappeared with some effort into his chest. Japheth looked different, as well, as though he’d been fortified with new strength.

Nourished.

He rejoined the fray. They slowly drove back the crowd.

“Dinna interrupt God’s work!� Reverend Craig was florid and out of breath.

“Like what? You’re torturing it! What does God have to do with that?� Jamie was indignant as he stared him down.

“I knew I couldn’t expect more than blasphemy from any wretch under Dr. MacTaggert’s roof,� he spat. “She’s just as much of a sinner as that thing.�

“It’s a wolf,� Jamie shrugged.

“Yeah,� Japheth chimed in. Without giving it any thought, he ducked as a large man attempted to club him. He grasped him by the sleeve and bowled him into three of the other villagers trying to attack them again.

“It’s a Beast from the pit,� Reverend Craig corrected them. “And she needs to go back!�

“She?� Japheth muttered. “How can y’even tell?� The creature whined in her throat and continued to fidget in the ropes.

“I don’t need ye tae challenge me authority in this. Back off,� he warned them.

“Nay, boyo,� a smooth voice countered from behind the crowd. “YE need tae back off, ye sanctimonious bastard.� Moira wove her way through the crowd, eyeing all of them in disgust.

Kevin had been so caught up in watching the spectacle he never even sensed his mother’s thoughts. Her next words surprised him.

“And I ken ye need tae leave that poor colleen alone. She’s done nothing wrong.� Kevin wondered if his mother had gone daft.

“Her greatest sin was being born,� Reverend Craig insisted flatly.

“Nay. Her greatest misfortune was being thrust into yuir loving, tender care. Yuir a hypocrite and a bigot, and ye always have been.�

“Yuir sainted husband wouldn’t have tolerated that kind of sassy talk.�

“Joe was no saint. Ye can go tae Hell, then, and give him my regards.�

“Witch!�

“Och, get out of the way. Jamie, ye have some explaining t’do when we sit down for supper tonight.�

“Yes, ma’am,� he said sheepishly.

“Bring them with ye,� she muttered, waving her hand at his duplicates. Only then did the crowd notice that there were four identical boys joining their guardian. The Reverend was agog.

“What’re ye bluidy idiots doing, listening tae him? Have ye lost yuir senses? Go on, there’s nothing tae see. Go home,� she snapped.

“But the beast, it’s dangerous, we can’t let it near our children!� a woman insisted.

“That so-called beast isn’t much more than a child herself. I take full responsibility. Not only that, but I plan on taking protective custody of her, as well.�

“Ye have no rights?�

“Oh, but I do. Ye were about tae unlawfully murder a wolf by cruel means. Never mind that ye endangered a child, as well, and committed Lord knows how many years of unmitigated abuse. Shame on ye, Reverend.�

Kevin felt the shift in the girl’s emotions and it slowly dawned on him where the source was.

The wolf was the girl.

“There’s a good lass,� Moira crooned as she pushed aside the crowd and made her way to the animal. She knelt by it, unafraid of her panting maw and sharp-looking teeth. Carefully she unbound the ropes and combed her fingers through its thick fur to comfort it. “Poor wee bairn,� she tsked. “Ye dinna have tae hide anymore.�

She watched as the wolf’s body shifted, slowly lengthening, limbs seeming to unfold and stretch. Her muzzle retracted, forming a jaw and chin, and the pointed ears lowered themselves on her skull, moving to the sides of her head.

“D’ye…promise?� she rasped. She was weak and began to tremble. Moira gathered her into her arms and cradled her, beckoning to Japheth to give her his long-sleeved shirt.

“Aye, lass.�

The crowd was horrified by the sight of the russet-furred creature that almost resembled a girl. Japheth came forward and scooped her up; his long shirt covered her to mid-thigh due to his massive size and her petite build, and she was grateful.

“She’s not human!�

“Aye, she is, but I kinna say the same for all of ye,� Moira corrected them.

By the time they skirted around the villagers and made their way toward Moira’s front gate, Rahne had completed her transformation back to normal. Once they were inside, she was already curled in Japheth’s arms, asleep.

“You have her? Is she all right?� Charles inquired, concerned.

“She’ll be right as rain, luv,� Moira promised, leaning down to kiss him. “I only wish we’d gotten tae her sooner. Poor colleen.�

“She’s young to have already manifested her gift.�

“Perhaps she did it tae protect herself. The Reverend is the next best thing Kinross has tae a village idiot.�

“I heard her thoughts. She’s a bright girl.�

“And sweet, too, aye. Wouldn’t harm a soul.�

“Does she have any family?�

“Och, Charley, I dinna believe she does. He was her guardian, if ye could call him that.� Moira opened the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of juice. “But not anymore.�

“What do you intend to do?�

“What I do best. I’m contacting the county tae see about her birth records and if she has any known family. If not, then I see no reason tae send her back where she was. I dinna mind another mouth tae feed, Charley. If there’s any family where a colleen like her belongs, it’s in ours.� Charles made a thoughtful sound and watched Moira tuck her into the small guest bed. The girl sighed in her sleep and burrowed further beneath the blankets.

An hour later, Moira’s words about “another mouth to feed� came back to her. The girl had the appetite of a lumberjack.


*

“Are you all right?�

“I don’t need ya tiptoein’ around me, Red. I’m fine. Told ya that three times already.�

“Can you blame me?� She gave him an accusing look that screamed Are you really that dense?

“Give it a rest, then.�

“You and Ororo,� she mused, shaking her head. Logan grunted over the rim of his coffee cup. The brew was strong and hot, just how he liked it. Logan had no vested interest in sleep, lately. If anything, he was more vigilant than before.

It had been hard for Charles to leave. Moira had their tickets to Edinburgh booked for weeks, and they managed to make their way to Moira’s isle mere days before a storm broadcasted to last roughly a week.

“Neither of you act like I have reason to be upset,� Jean complained. “Her, I almost understand. I love her, but she’s always brushed it off whenever anything groundshaking happens around here that makes me ready to pee my pants. But don’t you sit there and act like it’s no big deal, buddy.� She poked him with one manicured pink nail.

“Darlin’, I ain’t gonna elaborate when I tell ya that this is just another day at work fer me.� A half-truth wasn’t as bad as a lie, in his mind.

This time, it involved Ororo. By that rationale, yes, he should have been falling apart. But Logan couldn’t afford to.

“What kind of work do you do, anyway? You’ve never been chatty about it. Enlighten me.� Jean’s voice was slightly frosty and her green eyes brooked no bullshit.

“Nothin’ ya wanna worry yer pretty head about, Princess. Ya know I ain’t a Boy Scout. That’s all ya need ta know.�

“You’re such a fucking liar,� she hissed, planting herself before him, arms folded across her chest. “I don’t know why you bother to stay. So far, Charles has been attacked, almost KILLED, since you’ve been here. So much for you protecting anybody. You seem to bring trouble to our front door.�

“Yer the psychic,� Logan countered, even though her words had stung him, echoing his own accusing thoughts. “Ya didn’t see that comin’ any quicker than I did. Sounds like ya wanna pin the blame on me, which I don’t have a problem with, but one teeny word of advice.� His dark eyes flattened into chips. “Ya don’t call me a liar if yer smart.�

“What are you going to do about what happened?�

“Whaddya expect?� Logan finished the coffee and placed the mug in the sink, wiping away the sweaty brown ring from the table with his crumpled napkin. “Keep an eye on her and open my ears.�

“Why aren’t you now?�

“A woman’s gotta powder her nose sometime.�

“Sheesh…�

“I don’t know what ya want me ta tell ya, Red.� He stood and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed like hers. Jean looked at him, really looked at him, and saw that the fine lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes were deeper, lately. His face was leaner, and he seemed tired, despite his healing factor.

His weariness ran soul-deep, beyond any weakness of the flesh.

“She just throws both of you into the sky in the middle of the night, practically killing you in the process, and there’s no explanation?�

“Not one that makes sense. Darlin’, she wasn’t herself. She wasn’t in here,� he emphasized, tapping his temple. “Whole ‘lights are on, nobody’s home’ thing never described anything better than what happened with ‘Ro. I heard her talkin’ in her sleep. She sounded upset. Ain’t the first time, either. Figure ya know this by now.�

“I heard her once, when I was up a few weeks ago in the middle of the night with a migraine. I went to her room. I knocked, and she didn’t answer, so I walked in. It was odd.� Jean’s brows furrowed and she kneaded her nape. “She couldn’t hear me when I said her name. And this is the weird thing.�

“Lay it on me.�

“I couldn’t understand her. They were words, not just sounds, but they weren’t in English.� Logan felt a cold flush.

“It ain’t. That’s what I told Charley. I told ‘Ro, too, once. She acted like she didn’t wanna believe me. Shook it off like it was no big deal, and I know that ta her, it ain’t.�

“What’s she dreaming about?�

“She never tells Charley. She never seems ta be able ta tell anyone. I was there with her, and I had no clue. All she keeps sayin’ is ‘Help.’ That’s the most that I can make out. That, and she keeps callin’ Farouk’s name.� Jean grew pale.

“But why? He’s horrible, he’s a monster! Logan, his mind…he’s just…� Jean couldn’t continue. Her pallor sickened slightly, and she looked ready to embarrass herself. Logan wisely fetched a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the refrigerator’s filter tap. Jean gulped it down, took a few gasping breaths to center herself, then drank the rest. “Thanks. I needed that.�

“Sometimes I’m glad I can’t do what you an’ Charley do, seein’ inside people’s heads. There’s too much stuff I don’t wanna know.�

“Sometimes, you’re lucky,� she agreed. “Why Farouk? He won’t help her.�

“He did something ta ‘Ro when she was just a sprite. Changed her. Ya wanna know why she seems to hard ta crack sometimes, it’s because of what happened back then. When ya go through something like what ‘Ro went through, yer mind wants ta throw it out. Somethin’ inside ya just can’t handle it. Ya bury it. Ya tell yerself it don’t exist. Ya find ways ta lose yerself. Sometimes, that works.� As if to prove his point, Logan fished in his shirt pocket for his cigar. Jean wrinkled her nose but didn’t complain when he trimmed the end and lit up, standing by the open window sill. “Charley thinks I can get through ta her, somehow. Never would’ve come back ta the states, otherwise. Didn’t have anyone ta come back for until he wrote ta me.� A plume of smoke billowed out from his lips. “But I’d always come back fer ‘Ro. Spent too many nights worryin’ and wonderin’ about her after we went through hell ta save her from that bastard. When ya look at Ororo…I can’t even tell ya what it’s like, Jeannie…ya see her soul in her face. It’s perfect and pure and it just blinds ya, because ya can’t believe something that sacred and beautiful exists, or that ya have the right ta even witness it. Especially a hard-assed sonofabitch like me, with my bloody hands. Felt that way about her then. And I feel that way about her now.�

“No. You love her now.� Jean’s attention to Logan’s words had grown into awe the more he spoke. “Wow.�

“Don’t get ahead of yerself, Red,� he muttered, chewing on the Cuban and looking annoyed.

“You do. You’re in love with her.� She looked aghast.

“That ain’t what I came here for. I care about her. I wanna make sure she’s outta danger so she can live the life she shoulda had before Farouk messed with her mind. That’s all, Jeannie. Don’t make it into anything else.�

Except now Logan knew he was the liar. Jean remembered his earlier warning and wisely held her tongue.

“I don’t know what changed. It’s like she cracked,� Logan went on. “Have ya ever even once seen Ororo afraid?�

“Never,� she said without pause.

“Right. Ever. She was scared, Jeannie. She was scared and cryin’ like a little girl.�

“Oh, my God.�

“It’s like, she wasn’t the ‘Ro we know. But, I think that’s the ‘Ro she was supposed ta be. And whatever it is that made her go ballistic like that, she’s tryin’ ta fight her way away from it. She said something ta me, Jeannie.�

“What?�

“She said ‘Don’t make me feel.’ And she asked me why I was making her hurt me.�

“Don’t make me feel?� Jean repeated.

“Yeah.� She could tell Logan was shaken, even though he just continued his smoke and stared out the window.

“I guess it makes sense. Sometimes, I have to shut myself down. My powers have an ‘on’ switch where I’m aware of everyone around me, so much so that it’s part of my brain’s background noise. I hear everyone, and I feel what they do. I absorb it, and sometimes, when I’ve extended myself too much, I can’t turn it off. And I can’t handle it. Victor…� Her voice trailed off again, and she looked pale again. Logan stood and rubbed her neck soothingly when she leaned over the counter, breathing deeply through her nose and closing her eyes. “It was like bathing in filth, feeling some of the things he felt. It took me a while to feel like myself again, Logan. But…it frightens me. I still feel stained by his rage, and his lust for blood. His hate. Until those last few minutes before he was gone, he had never felt remorse. How could he live that way?�

“When ya’ve lived too long and seen too much, that starts ta be the only way ya can, Red. Don’t mean it’s right.�

“With Ororo, I can’t read her thoughts. Not the way I can anyone else’s. But I know she’s there. It’s just like this warm presence in the room, like when you come inside out of the cold. It’s comforting. I can feel her psychic imprint, and I can speak to her telepathically, but I can’t ‘read’ her. She’d have to invite me in. Just like you would.�

“What do ya read from me?�

“Trouble.�

“Bingo.�


*


His talk with Jean left him unsatisfied and restless. She didn’t get much of a promise out of him to be careful.

What he never expected was for Ororo to show up on his doorstep.

He was so caught up in his mission to get out of the house that he never even noticed her scent in the hallway as he opened his door to leave.

She stood before him, hand raised in the act of knocking. She let her hand drop.

Her face was serene – as always – but her posture became more plaintive, taking up less space in the doorway. She almost seemed to hug herself with her slender arms.

“Where are you going?� she demanded. “You didn’t say you had any plans.�

“Ya didn’t ask.�

“I assumed you were going to be here at the house for a while.�

“I ain’t leavin’ the grounds, darlin’. Just this room. Why? What’s it matter to ya if I step out fer a while?�

“It doesn’t,� she shrugged. She didn’t smell like she was lying. No change in her heartbeat or pulse. “Just curious.�

“What brings ya my way? Ya need anything?�

“No. Not really.� She seemed to have something on her mind. Logan wished futilely that she would be more forthcoming.

She was beautiful. Her hair was loose and slightly wild, as though she’d just come back from a ride. She wore a classic “plain white tee� that looked like it came out of a Fruit of a Loom package, well worn and slightly transparent from several washings. Her jeans hugged and cupped her curves as usual, and she still had on her Ropers. She’d sensibly worn a bra this time; it didn’t help Logan’s self-control much that it was black, its outline easy to see beneath the thin fabric.

“So ya need me ta stick around?�

“Only if you want to stick around.�

And so their usual dance began.

Logan took off his Stetson and set it back on the desk.

“Don’t let me stop you.�

“Ya ain’t stoppin’ me.�

She perused his room, intrigued. She’d never shown much interest before in stopping by to see him, even though he’d visited her loft on rare occasions, usually on some errand of Moira’s or just out of concern.

They hadn’t been intimate since that night. Logan called himself a sensible man, among other less flattering names in the wake of what happened. But even now, with her wandering into his personal space, running her fingers along the surfaces of his furniture, opening his closet, Logan felt invaded.

“It’s different since you’ve been here.�

“Yeah?�

“Smells different,� she remarked, almost slyly. Only a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. He suppressed confusion as she opened his closet door the entire way and began to slide his hangers across the rod, one by one.

“Do ya rummage through people’s medicine cabinets when ya go ta visit?�

“This isn’t a medicine cabinet. You’re right here, so it’s fair game. It’s not like I’m sneaking around behind your back.� Logan snorted, but it was still disconcerting, watching her poke around, making thoughtful sounds in her throat.

She pulled out his jacket and stroked the distressed leather, surprised at how soft it felt. She leaned down and buried her nose in the collar. Logan’s chest shook.

“What the heck are ya doin’, ‘Ro?�

“Nothing.� She took a deep whiff, and it twisted his gut when she sighed in…what, contentment? He caught the deep rise and fall of her chest with the gesture, and she closed her eyes, taking another breath.

Ororo carefully removed it from the hanger, setting it back on the rod, and she slipped into his jacket. “Mmmmm, comfy,� she murmured appreciatively.

She was killing him.

She looked sexy as hell in his jacket, and it unsettled him how envious he felt of the worn leather wrapped around her. It was like the adult version of a girl playing dress-up. She turned to his full-length mirror briefly and straightened, tugging on the front flaps to adjust its hang. Her full breasts seemed to nudge it open. She reached beneath the collar and deftly flicked her long mane free, letting it tumble down her back. The hint of static made it cling to the jacket and her face.

“Ya didn’t just come up ta go shoppin’ in my closet. What’s up? Ya need anything?�

“Not…need,� she offered. Her voice sounded far away as she continued to stare at her own reflection. She hugged herself in the jacket, almost treating it like a security blanket. “I don’t know why, but I just wanted to come see you. No reason.�

“None, huh? Bored?�

“I guess.�

“Lonely?� he pondered.

“I don’t know.�

“Why don’t ya?�

“Because I don’t know how that feels,� she admitted. Something in her tone was bereft, but still matter-of-fact.

“Well, there ya go. I can help ya with either, darlin’, but only if ya want me to. If not, then I’ll bail.�

“I don’t need any help.�

“Sure?�

“I want…�

“Ya want…?� He made a rolling gesture with his hand, accompanying it with an impatient cock of his eyebrow. Yet he had plenty of time for this. All Logan ever had was time.

“I want to tell you I’m sorry.�

Logan’s hand dropped. He folded his burly arms and leaned back against the edge of the desk.

“Okay. Apology accepted.�

“I should probably tell you why.�

“Shoot. Make yerself comfortable.� The suggestion was laughable and too late, since she already had. But Ororo pulled out his chair, turned it so the back was facing him and straddled it. Yup. She was killing him.

“I don’t remember much about what happened before we hit the water. All I knew was that it was my fault. And that I hurt you.�

“Been hurt worse.�

“But this time, it was me who did it.� Despite her other failings, she was capable of regret. “I know that maybe, I guess, we don’t always know where we stand with each other.� That was another first. He just assumed she thought she knew. “But…I wouldn’t hurt you, Logan. Never if I could help it.�

“I’ll help ya figure out where ya stand with me. I’d never hurt ya either, darlin’. I only came in yer room because ya sounded scared, and I was worried. I don’t want ya thinkin’ I was takin’ liberties-“

“You weren’t.� Her voice was abrupt. Her expression and voice didn’t change, but her quick response surprised him.

“I’ve heard ya before at night. Talkin’ in yer sleep. Ya know that by now. This time was different. How much can ya remember?�

“Bits and pieces. Being wet.� Logan stifled a groan. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“So we’re back ta this. Ya don’t remember yer dreams.�

“No.�

“Shit.�

“I can’t help it, Logan.�

“Maybe ya need ta try harder, darlin’.� She frowned slightly.

“Why would I want to remember something that obviously made me upset?�

“Because that’s how ya conquer bad dreams. Ya step back inside ‘em and tell yerself not ta be afraid. Ya remember what it was that put it inside yer head, so ya can cope with it when yer awake. Difference is, darlin’, yer dreams aren’t just yer usual ‘something that goes bump in the night’ or a monster in yer closet.�

“Maybe you need to fill in some details about what you heard, then.�

“Have ya got all day?� he snorted.

“It might help. Somewhere in those bits and pieces, I remember feeling…different. Angry?� She cocked her head to the side, like a curious kitten.

“Yeah. Ya were.�

“I don’t know why.�

“Ya weren’t too happy with me.�

“I don’t have a problem with you!� She huffed a sound like a laugh.

“No. On some level, ya do. That’s what makes it hard. I wanna be here if ya need me, but I’ve gotta tell ya, darlin’, I feel like I’m goin’ around in circles. I don’t know if it’s that ya don’t need me, or that ya don’t wanna need me.�

“I don’t know what to tell you.�

“I know ya don’t.� What else was new?

“But it doesn’t matter.�

“How do ya figure?�

“Because you need me.�

“I do.� It was a question, in a way.

“You do.�

Logan took a gamble. His voice sounded hollow, unlike his.

“What gets me, what keeps me up at night, darlin’, is that yer right. And how do ya feel about that?�

“I don’t know how to feel about that.�

Frustration choked him.

What did him in was how blithe she was about it. Could she really not gage how worked up she was making him? Couldn’t she see him straining at the seams?

Logan’s nostrils flared and he gritted his teeth. “It was nice hangin’ out with ya, kiddo. We’ve really gotta do this again.� He leaned away from the sill and retrieved his hat. “Just hang that back up when ya-“

“You do need me.� His free hand was balled up. Logan breathed deep and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his face bore the ravages of her words.

“Are ya fuckin’ kidding me? Do ya really need me ta stand here and give ya a prize? Feelin’ this way about ya isn’t helpin’ me, darlin’. I don’t know what yer gettin’ outta hearin’ me tell ya that. Maybe it’s how ya get yer jollies, but fer me, it ain’t exactly a walk in the park. I don’t need ta feel this way about ya, but I do. I’m bangin’ myself into the same wall, knowin’ that it doesn’t matter how I feel, because ya won’t, or ya can’t, feel that way about me. The sane part of me says it’s because ya can’t. But I ain’t got so much of an ego that I can’t admit it’s because ya won’t.�

Those blue eyes followed his movements and gesticulations, drinking in the pain in his face as he tried to escape his own room.

“Then let’s keep this simple, Logan. You do need me.�

“Beat it ta death, why don’t ya?� He threw up his hands in annoyance. He was still lathered up and chafed. She stood and walked around the chair. Carefully she removed the jacket, stroking it reverently and hanging it back up. Her scent closed in on him, wrapping around him as she approached.

He felt her pluck the hat from his tight grip and set it down on the desk.

“You need me to hold you,� she argued. She touched him for the first time since she tugged him from the lake. Her fingertips traced a line from his wrist along his arm until she closed her hand around the slope of his shoulder, burning him through the soft flannel. She beckoned him with a light tug. His body ignored his brain’s command to stay put, and he stepped forward as she leaned into him and wound her arms around his neck. His breath shuddered out from his lips at the feel of her, right where he craved her.

“I knew you’d be okay,� she told him. Her voice sounded faraway, even as it stirred against his ear. Her palms skimmed over his back soothingly, caressing him, re-learning the feel of him. “You heal. Knock you down, you get back up.�

“In a nutshell,� he grumbled, but speech was proving difficult. His tongue felt thick. His fingers tightened, threatening to dig into her lower back. His sigh was heavy and he resisted the urge to kiss the curve of her shoulder, where it joined with her neck.

“But it was hard to watch you lying there, just floating and not making a sound. I expected you to just come out of the water like you did before. And I did that to you. Your lips were blue. You were just floating there like a rag doll. I know you flipped us around at the last minute. You landed first.�

“I heal.�

“It was still stupid,� she accused. “I control water currents, too, not just the ones in the air. That’s how I got you back to shore.�

“Shit…� He’d wondered how they’d gotten his back to shore. Poor Jeannie and Stevie were scared out of their wits when Phillip helped them cart him dripping and senseless into the house.

“You couldn’t hear me.�

“Yes, I could.�

“I didn’t know that.�

“Didn’t mean ta scare ya.�

“You didn’t. I…I just wanted you to wake up.�

“Never figured it woulda made a difference.�

“It did. It does.� Her soft cheek grazed the side of his neck, and her skin was warm. Her grip on him didn’t lie; her embrace was fierce yet tender, and he sighed as her fingers crept into his hair, combing through it and massaging his scalp. “It makes a difference to me,� she repeated.

“Okay,� he rumbled, indulging his earlier whim. His lips drifted to that spot, brushing it, tasting it, and Ororo responded in kind, turning her lips into his hair, nuzzling his temple.

“Okay, then.� She leaned back slowly, lifting her head from the nook of his shoulder. She’d grown drowsy from their embrace, not realizing how comfortable it felt with him gathered so close, sharing his heartbeat and warmth.

He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Before she could let go of him, his fingers caught hold of her thick fall of hair, bunching it around his fist. He tugged her down to his kiss, and she moaned in approval. Her voice resonated through him as she stole his breath.

*


He’d heard her. Her voice was plaintive, not frantic, but still insistent that he wake up. His skin smarted as sensation returned; he’d wished it hadn’t when the pain set in. He was freezing, teeth chattering and muscles locked in an effort to warm back up.

“You’re okay, Logan. Wake up, now. Please, wake up!� She’d jarred him, trying to shake him awake. He felt her hands briskly rubbing warmth back into his arms, and she gently cradled his head in her lap. Jean, on the other hand, was in hysterics and was smothering him in a thick blanket that made him itch while feeling returned to his limbs.

His body felt broken from the impact with the water. He took the brunt of it and hit the surface first. Pain exploded in his spine. He’d taken worse falls, with worse landings, but he had to protect ‘Ro, even if it meant protecting her from herself. The breath was knocked out of his lungs before the water closed up over them. He felt them sinking into the darkness, even as his legs instinctively began to kick.

Her heartbeat buoyed him; he heard it in the velvety, cold darkness around them. A rush of air bubbles fluttered against their bare flesh. His lungs burned. They seemed to bob, then slowly return to the surface, but he didn’t know if it was by any effort of his own that got them there…

*

Her kiss offered comfort and the closest thing she could give him to an apology. His thumb feathered her cheekbone as he deepened their kiss, groaning with need.

Ororo only knew that she didn’t want to let go. He felt too tangible, too satisfying, and she was addicted to his need. She lapped up his flavors and textures, lips rasped by his rough stubble as she kissed him hungrily.

They’d flung open the floodgates. Logan couldn’t stop his hands from groping her, pulling at her; he couldn’t undress her fast enough. The kiss was only broken long enough to jerk the bothersome shirt over her head, making her long hair whip and fall back around her face again, but this time the silky mass clung to them both as he devoured her lips.

She was just as impatient. He heard two buttons pop loose and felt the cool rush of air against his skin as she scraped the shirt from his chest, letting it hang by its tails from his waistband. Her hands wouldn’t stop their roam over his flesh, firm and deliciously hot. They stumbled back and turned; Ororo inadvertently bit his lip as her bare back hit the wall. His knee pushed her thighs apart and she rode it, grinding against him while he worked on the tiny front clasp of her bra.

It popped open, letting her breasts spill free. She heard his groan of satisfaction and relief as he captured one, cradling it in his palm. In the back of her mind, she sighed over how much he seemed to like them…then he bowed his lips to her sensitive nipple, making her arch against him.

They were crossing that line again, possibly treading the road to ruin. Logan, for his own part, didn’t need a map.

The worn denim chafed her, a sharp contrast to the smooth sheets beneath her back as Logan jerked off her boots and peeled off her jeans. She lay naked and tousled, staring up at him wantonly as he yanked open his belt and fly. His boxers had the good grace to come off with his pants as he shucked them. She eyed Logan’s erection, rosy and turgid; she wrapped her palm around it as he crawled over her, appreciating its solid, silky feel. He sucked in a breath, pausing half-straddled while she loosely pumped him. Her thumb slicked over the plump head, tracing the long vein along its underside.

“You feel so good, Logan,� she whispered.

“Yeah?� His voice was a hoarse grunt that wouldn’t work.

“So good,� she repeated, scooting closer so she could explore him. Ororo slid her palm over the crisp mat of curls between his thighs, appreciating their texture and the treasure they protected. She cupped his balls protectively, delicately caressing them. His hips jerked in pleasure. She continued to work on him, changing her grip as she kept scooting down on the bed, farther, until his thighs straddled her ribcage instead of her legs.

“C’mon, ‘Ro, what’re ya…oh, God,� he whimpered as she couched his package in the nook between her breasts and began to suckle him.


*


Downstairs, Jean read the style section of the morning paper and finished her second cup of coffee. She heard Scott come in before he approached without looking up.

He gave her what she began to think of as his “first grope of the day,� wresting the page from her hand and tipping her head for a mauling kiss. He wasn’t shy; his hand slipped inside the neckline of her green henley and found her breast, kneading it greedily. Her body began to respond, but she wondered again, why this change in his appetite? What was going on with Scott?

The phone rang. Jean didn’t know whether or not to be grateful.

“Phone,� she murmured beneath his lips.

“So?� He was attacking her neck, nipping her a bit too hard.

“Scott…phone! Let me get that, it might be Charles!� She wrested herself from him, using an almost imperceptible thrust of her TK. He huffed in surprise and annoyance as she got up and snagged the handset before its last ring.

“H’lo? MOIRA!� Jean was all smiles. “How’s the weather?�

“Bout what ye’d expect. Usual dreich we get this time of year, colleen.�

“How’s that girl?�

“Snug as a bug. Lassie’s healthy and just so happy t’be away from that vile man. Sweet lass, too. Keeps helpin’ Eilish, loves playing football wi’ Japh and Jamie. Think she has a crush on him, frankly.�

“It’s not mutual?� Jean hoped.

“Thank the Lord above, nay.� Moira chuckled. “Bless her wee little heart.� Then she sobered. “How is Ororo?�

“The same. I don’t know if Logan’s been able to get through to her about what happened. She’s just so closed up.� Jean turned toward the window looking out over the yard. Behind her, Scott stared, amused.

“Och,� Moira muttered. “That’s what I’m afraid of, lovey. I’m just relieved that he’s there.�

“I want to be relieved,� Jean confessed. “But you know Logan. He’s just…Logan.�

“Charley has a lot of faith in him, colleen. I’ve been noticing differences in her since he’s been at the house. Not much, aye, but it’s a start. The only problem is, I feel…� She hesitated.

“What, Moira?�

“I feel like there’s a breaththrough coming on. Something’s about to come loose. Lass has been holding herself in check so long… no one can do that forever.�

“Farouk seems to want her to,� Jean mused. Scott smirked, pausing as he searched for a glass in the cabinet.

“When are you coming home?� Jean asked.

“We’re not sure. Charley wants tae spend more time wi’ young Rahne.�

“That’s a lovely name.�

“She’s a lovely lass. Ye’ll like her, I ken, and she, yuirself.�

“I bet. Ororo and I will have another shopping buddy.�

“About that…Charley and I have been thinking a lot of late.�

“About what?�

“About…possibly living on one continent, instead of two.�

“Where? Here or Kinross?�

“That’s still up in the air. But we’ve been leanin’ towards Kinross.�

“I don’t whether to be happy or sad,� Jean admitted, “but I’m so glad you and Charles don’t have to be away from each other, either way.�

“Nothing can keep me away from my Charley except death, and even then, not for long.�

“Can I talk to him?�

“Aye. Here he is.� Jean listened to Moira’s call in the background and Charles’ answering approval as he came to the phone. He sounded happy.

“How is she?� he asked without preamble.

“It’s good to hear from you too, Professor.�

“Hello, child. Excuse my rudeness.�

“And she’s fine. Closed up tighter than a clam, but fine.�

“So nothing’s changed.�

“No.�

“Maybe we need to take a different tack, then.�

“Such as?�

“Would you be in the mood to come to Scotland?�

“You’re kidding?� Jean practically danced with excitement. She spun around to find Scott looking amused. “Scotland� she mouthed, point into the handset. “You and me!�

“We may be spending more time here, so that Moira can tie up some loose ends, and she she can finalize arrangements in regard to the Sinclair girl.�

“Rahne Sinclair,� Jean said thoughtfully.

“Possible Rahne Mactaggert.�

“Oh, Professor!’ Jean gushed.

“Moira believes strongly in adoption, in case you hadn’t noticed,� he teased, but she heard the joy in his voice.

“I can’t wait. I’m packing my bags.�

“Tell Ororo to pack hers, too. I’d like to talk to hre about a brief sabbatical. Moira and I would like more time with her, for more reasons than I can describe.�

“She’s your daughter; why wouldn’t you?�

“Exactly. I’ll call you once I set the arrangements, dear.�

“Thank you. You’re the best. I can’t tell you what this means.� A few more fond words, and they hung up.

“I can’t wait to tell Ororo. Wonder when she’s coming downstairs?�


*

She was milking him, squeezing him between the cushioning vise of her breasts. Logan’s hips thrust and jerked, letting his cock probe the confines of her hot wetness. Her eyes closed in contentment as he reached down to tug at her nipple, then covered her hands as she gripped herself.

She was pushing him; he was too close and he still wanted her. He drew back, letting his stiff flesh pop loose from her mouth.

“Don’t, I wasn’t finished,� she complained, missing the press of his body pinning her against the mattress and the tight clamp of his thighs.

“We ain’t finished, darlin’, don’t worry yer pretty little head.� He leaned back and changed his position, lying back with his feet up by her head. He grasped her ankles and flipped her to her side, scissored her legs open, and bowed his face to her sex.

“Oh!� Her voice was surprised, then dreamy as his breath steamed over her lips. His tongue darted out to taste her, tracing her soft folds, and he settled down to his feast. Ororo’s eyes cinched shut and she arched against him. She took her own cue, then, and cupped the back of his knee, urging him closer. It was Logan’s turn to groan as her mouth closed around his flesh once more, suckling him more eagerly. It was decadent.

Pleasure coiled in Ororo’s belly. She luxuriated in the feel of him, wanting to feed his needs, but he made it hard to stay focused, chasing her back whenever she struggled for dominance of his arousal. She moaned around him, and the sound vibrated through him, nearly making him lose it. But he lapped at her, prying her thighs farther apart, and his thick fingertips grazed the crease of her ass provocatively. Her muscles clenched in anticipation. No fair… And he didn’t play fair…

She mewled out and shuddered as she came first, losing their contest. He cleaned her slowly, like a cat. He sensed her gathering her wits with a hint of defiance.

“Nope,� he muttered, returning to her and looming over her body while she tried to lean up on her elbows. But he was gentle as he rolled her to her back, easing himself against her and cradling her face in his large hands. Her eyes were drowsy but intent.

“You’re so bad,� she mused. She moved beneath him, arching against his still-throbbing sex.

“That scare ya?�

“Do I seem scared?� She buffeted him and leaned up to taste the sheen of sweat at his throat. Her hands roamed over his back greedily. Logan felt so right to her. He grumbled in protest.

“Darlin’, don’t…aw, man.� She continued to move, thrusting up at him. He stiffened and grew slick with her wetness. The head of his cock slipped just between her folds and bumped against her pearl each time she moved her hips.

Kiss self-control goodbye. Logan was done.

“Now ya’ve done it,� he promised as she suckled his ear, catching the crest between her even teeth, steaming it. He broke away and eased back long enough kneel between her legs, lift them over his shoulders and push himself inside her waiting heat.

It was perfect. He filled her, stretching her, making her feel complete.

She fit him perfectly. He took shelter in her warmth and softness as it squeezed around him.

“Tell me ya need me.� He didn’t know where the thought came from and cursed it as soon as it left his lips.

She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Low sounds of want escaped her.

“Tell me, darlin’.�

She opened her eyes, looking plaintively up at him. Don’t. Don’t make me feel anything else but this. He read her intent. He was close to falling over the edge.

Then he gave in. It was sweet pain, tearing at him and draining him dry. He jerked and his hips thrust of their own volition. Shuddering breath left Ororo’s lips on a low cry, as though she couldn’t let him fall over the edge alone.

They lay together, limbs tangled and listening to each other’s breathing. Ororo was lulled by his heartbeat beneath her cheek and the reverent stroke of his fingers.

“You weren’t going to do anything important.�

“Guess not.� He didn’t want to move. His lips traveled over her hair. He traced the veins over the back of her hand.

“So you’ll stay.�

His body was deliciously loose and limp; she snuggled up to him like a cat.

Logan knew that he’d come that much closer to falling into the abyss. Her words still haunted him.

Why are you making me feel?

Why did it feel like he’d opened Pandora’s box?


*

Kinross:


Moira accompanied Charles down to her lab. He noticed some of the changes she’d made since, not the least intriguing of which was the steel paneling along the walls in the hallway and main suite.

“It seems very secure.�

“Aye. It has t’be, luv.�

“It’s been so long.� It smelled the same. A rush of impressions hit him along with the memories. He’d been gone too long, left too many things unsaid.

“Moira,� he said. He reached up over his shoulder and caught her hand before she could push his chair any further.

“Aye, Charley?�

“I love you. So help me, I still love you so much.� His throat clogged and his vision blurred for a moment. “I was an idiot for leaving you behind.�

“Everything happens for a reason.� Her kiss warmed his temple, and she enveloped him from behind. “Yuir back. And now we have a family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.�

“As I have.�

“Then yuir ready tae meet Kevin.� Charles recovered himself and appeared calm as Moira unlocked the lab.

It was meticulously neat and dimly lit, due to Kevin’s preference. Moira took a chance on trying his patience and turned on the track lights.

“Told ye I dinna want it lit up like Christmas in here,� grumbled a young tenor. Charles realized the voice came from the intimidating structure in the corner of the chamber.

The containment unit. It stole his breath.

“Kevin,� Moira beckoned. “I’ve someone here tae see ye. Say hello.�

“Who is it? And why should I care, Mum?� he said sullenly.

“Dinna be rude, lad.�

“It’s all right, Moira.� She wheeled Charles closer, until he could reach out and touch the reinforced glass.

“Bluidy wanker,� he muttered under his breath, until he looked up from his Doctor Who episode and gave Charles a long, hard look.

He stood. He was taller than medium height, no doubt close to Charles’ size when he was still able to stand. What he could see of Kevin’s eyes were blue, the same blue that stared back at him from the mirror every day.

They traveled over Charles and his mother, assessing him.

“How’d ye end up in that?�

“I was attacked.�

“Tore ye a new one,� Kevin tsked, but there was a hint of sympathy in his voice. Moira was mortified at his callousness, but Charles was still intrigued, and awed.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,� he offered, nodding to the landscape Kevin simulated within the chamber.

“Not the same as bein’ out in the fresh air, though, is it, old man?�

“Kevin, that’s enough!� Moira snapped.

“Aye. ‘Tis. So why don’t ye be off, then, Mum? Wheel yuir friend out wi’ ye.�

“He’s more than my friend. Yuir going tae be seeing more of Charles soon.�

“Can’t wait, Mum.� He went back to his program. Moira knew she’d been dismissed.

She didn’t expect him to call her back. “Where’s the little redheaded colleen?�

“Upstairs, working on her catechism.�

“Ye could send her down, sometimes.� Once again, he turned away.

“I imagine the lass’ll be honored,� Moira murmured under her breath as they took their leave.

Summary: A reckoning.


Every spring in the country ceased to throb and bubble, dying away like the pulse of a dying man. The next day there was no sound of falling water to be heard along the borders of the lake. The very courses were dry; and the mountains showed no silvery streaks down their dark sides. And not alone had the fountains of mother Earth ceased to flow; for all the babies throughout the country were crying dreadfully-only without tears. – The Light Princess


“Tell me more about the year that he changed.�

“Not much else to tell, Charley luv,� Moira mused behind the rim of her teacup. They sat and made short work of a generous fried breakfast and watched the first spatters of rain pelt the kitchen windows. It was a typical day in Kinross, weather fit only for ducks and fish, but Eilish lit the wood-burning stoves, filling the lower level of Moira’s home with delicious warmth. Moira bundled Charles into a thick gray Aran sweater and draped a heavy woolen blanket over his lap. She’d pampered him from the moment he settled in, something she’d long missed. He’d been gone for far too long.

“How old was he?�

“Twelve.�

“What happened?�

“He lashed out in self-defense when Joe came after me. Poor lad. He still hates me for it. He thinks his mummy’s weak. And he was right. It was wrong of me to stay with that man for so long.� Charles hated the flash of guilt he felt on the surface of her mind and the shadows of remembered sorrow and helplessness. “He entered his father’s mind. He was as shocked as I was when it happened. Then he…� Moira’s voice faltered. “It was horrific. It was like seeing a human being…turned inside-out. It’s part of his mutation. He can bend anything. The environment around him. His own psychic essence. He can’t hold his body together. It’s slowly breaking down and fizzling away, because he can’t control that aspect of his power. And there’s more, Charley.�

“Tell me.�

“He can possess people. He can leap into their bodies and manipulate them, in effect replacing them. The process destroys their minds. And in the process, he burns them out. He’s unstable, and his control over his host body’s cohesion slowly breaks down. Sometimes it takes a day or two. At worst, fewer than a couple of hours.�

“Good heavens,� Charles murmured.

“That’s why he had to be contained.�

“His molecules are unstable. Hmmmmm.�

“I hate it when ye hum like that, Charley.�

“Just…pondering.� Charles idly stirred his Earl Grey, staring into its murky surface. “The host’s mind is destroyed? So even if Kevin’s mind is driven out, the victim has no chance of survival?�

“Not that I can tell. The deaths were certainly physical, and they were brain-dead when I brought the bodies back to me lab for scans.�

“Deaths? More than one?�

“Aye. It took me a while to get the containment room built. He was young, and his need to obey me was ancillary, with the power he possessed. He ‘experimented.’� Moira shivered. “When I deprived him of a new host body, he nearly died. That was the beginning of this mockery of a relationship we have now, luv. I was hoping that meeting his real father might spark something in him. He has little to no regard or affection for anyone, Charley. He dwells inside a shell of hatred, as surely as he does in that chamber. We’re stifling him.�

“We’re protecting him,� Charles corrected her. “And everyone around him.�

“He’s intelligent.�

“I can see that.� Charles had made several visits to the lab in an attempt to get to know his son. He’d been gently, then more brusquely rebuffed for his efforts. But he sensed a curiosity in his mind, even though Kevin wouldn’t allow him all the way inside. His psychic defenses were strong.

“At least when Ororo closes herself off from us, the lass does it with considerably less profanity,� Moira said mirthlessly.

*

Ororo let herself into the lab quietly, using Moira’s access codes, and she breathed in the steam from the cup of hot cocoa and warm sugar cookies she carried on the small tray.

“What’re ye about, then? What’re ye doin’ down here?� Kevin’s voice was surly and slightly disembodied. Ororo wondered if she’d interrupted him from anything, and then she noticed that the television in the chamber was tuned to Doctor Who. She was curious about the plastic housing around the set and what purpose it served. The containment cell was hemmed in with plexiglass and surrounded by a waist-high gate of steel mesh.

“I wanted to see if you were up for a visit,� she murmured as she set the treats down on the dumbwaiter. She slid them into the compartment and pressed the button, allowing them to be pulled into the chute. Kevin grunted, unimpressed with her offerings.

“Fat lot of good that’ll do. Nice try. Can’t even taste it anymore.�

“Neither can Japh,� Ororo reminded him.

“That freak with the parasites for innards? Don’t throw me in with his lot. I ain’t like him. I’m not a walking leech,� he sneered. His face flickered, almost like watching a television screen grow snowy with static. He retained enough control of his features to scowl at her, even though she intrigued him.

“You might feel differently about him if you got to know him. We grew up together.�

“Lucky bint. Rub it in me face.�

“You’re awfully hostile. Moira loves you.�

“Sure, she does. I feel the love from down in this hellhole. She doesn’t love me like she does her other little darlings, now, does she? I’m her blood,� Kevin spat. “But she chose all of ye freaks. Mum can’t do anything right, can she?� He laughed and approached the cookies. He picked one up and snorted. “Ye remembered the sprinkles. I’m impressed.�

“They looked pretty.� Concentrating on it, Kevin absorbed its energy, warping it, seemingly draining it of color, form and substance. It disincorporated and disappeared, leaving behind a little heap of gray dust.

“Yuir too kind,� he muttered, but a little of the malice left his voice. “Why d’ye look like that, lass?� He eyed her unique coloring with a mixture of envy and disdain.

“Ask Mum why,� Ororo suggested blandly. “I haven’t a clue.�

The lab always made a faint shiver run down Ororo’s spine, both for the odd antiseptic smells and the darkness of the chamber. It evoked an emotion inside her that she couldn’t name, that she wasn’t sure she truly owned. She felt hemmed in, and she disliked that. She could only imagine how Kevin felt.

She noticed a small potted fern that was on its last legs on Moira’s desk. “Poor little thing,� she murmured, distracted from their chat. Her eyes glowed and her cerulean irises disappeared behind swirls of white. Kevin blanched.

“What the bluidy hell are ye doin’?�

“Giving this little thing a drink. She’s thirsty,� Ororo told him as she waved her hand over the fern. With a thought, she generated a fluffy gray rain cloud and guided it over the drooping fronds, giving it a gentle, much-needed drink.

“She?� Kevin snorted. “It’s a bluidy plant.�

“She hates it when you argue with Mum,� Ororo informed him matter-of-factly. “I have a kinship with growing things and I’m connected to the earth and its atmosphere. When you and Mum shout at each other, it makes her nervous.�

“Mum? Nervous? Bollocks!�

“No. Genevieve, here.� He realized she was still talking about the plant.

“Ye’ve named the bluidy thing?�

“She named herself.� Kevin was entranced by the tiny rain cloud. Unbidden, an almost identical miniature cloud materialized inside his chamber. Ororo smiled, letting her own dissipate.

“Good job.�

“Anyone can make a cloud,� he argued, but her praise pleased him. Ororo eyed it and made a thoughtful sound.

The cloud’s substance was artificial. There was no moisture, no charged particles or energy emitting from it. Kevin saw realization dawn in her eyes, which had changed back to blue, and he banished the phantom cloud.

“Get out,� Kevin snapped.

“All right. Enjoy the cookies.�

Kevin waited for her to reach the door to the lab before he gave the platter a sound kick, sending it crashing to pieces against the wall of his cell. The broken crockery mingled with crumbled cookies and sprinkles. Damn you. Damn you all.

*

Farouk felt the resonance of Kevin’s energy and relished it, breathing it in deeply. The boy’s existence was an epiphany to him. He realized that it never would have occurred to pry the boy’s whereabouts from Charles’ mind, when the fool didn’t know about him, himself. Farouk cursed Moira’s protective motherly instincts. Think of all the years he’d wasted, living as a phantom, when the chance to walk once more in the world of the living was at his fingertips.

He tasted the boy’s rage, nearly salivating. He was even more delectable than Victor, with none of the man’s bloodlust, granted, but he was stubborn and prideful, resenting his mother for imprisoning him in the guise of “helping� him. Farouk smiled as Kevin regenerated the tiny cloud, musing over its absence of energy. He chose this as his moment, and his voice in the young boy’s mind was silky and rich.

I can show you how to make it rain.

“Bluidy hell,� Kevin muttered, startled. His eyes darted about the chamber, seeing no one at the door to Moira’s lab. “Who’s there?�

A friend. I love meeting new people. I know your father. Farouk chuckled to himself.

“That old man’s not my father,� Kevin spat. “So that makes ye no friend of mine. Bugger off.�

I never said your father was a friend. Kevin shivered.

“Then what’re ye doin’ here?�

I’ve come to make you an offer.

“If it’s more snacks, then I’m full.�

Ridiculous. I’d never patronize you like that. And you’ll have to forgive my niece.

“Niece? Ororo? Yuir related to her?�

It’s complicated. Let’s just say… she owns a part of me.

“Right. That makes it sound so much better. If yuir family, then why didn’t ye take her in, instead of lettin’ me mum adopt her?�

It was out of my hands.

“So yuir wantin’ t’make up for lost time?�

Yes.

“Then don’t let me get in yuir way. Bugger off,� Kevin repeated.

Not until you hear me out.

“Being Human is on.� Kevin reached for the remote.

Would you like to be?

“Pardon?�

Human. Would you like to leave this cell and be a normal person?

“Right,� Kevin scoffed. “Is this Jamie, then? Are ye playin’ with the intercom again?�

I won’t play with you, unless you ask me to, darling Kevin.

“I’m not yuir darling. Leave me be.�

Would you like to remember what fresh air smells like, Kevin? How it feels to eat with your mouth? The feel of sheets against your skin when you lie in bed? A kiss. A handshake. The scent of your mother’s hair when she hugs you…

“I don’t need it. Any of it,� Kevin told him stiffly. But his hand shook as he set down the remote.

You’re dying, Kevin. Your spirit has a tenuous, flickering hold on this plane. Your body is about to burn out. Surely you know this? You need host bodies to sustain you. And I need you to sustain me.

“Lies,� Kevin whispered. “Yuir lying!�

I have no reason to lie. You doubt my motives. I’m sorry. It’s true. Your spirit’s hold on this world is weakening. Your glow is dim. Your mother’s efforts were for naught. This miserable little cell is just delaying the inevitable.

“How d’ye propose tae show me how tae truly live, when I kinna see ye? Show yuirself,� Kevin demanded.

Suit yourself. Farouk’s visage materialized first, right above Kevin’s eye level, and he was surprised by the man’s foreign features. His expression was serene.

“Ye look like the friggin’ All-Powerful Oz.� Farouk chuckled.

Smart aleck.

Farouk rendered his appearance to be considerably more fit than his true physical form before Charles ended his life. His astral body smiled at Kevin and shrugged, holding his hands out innocently, showing he meant no harm. Does this please you?

“It’ll do. Whatever.� Kevin picked up the remote control again and changed the channel, deciding to ignore his visitor and his inability to ply him. Farouk sighed and shook his head.

“The confidence of youth is only outmatched by its ignorance. You have untapped, untempered power. Gods claim power such as yours.�

“Goodie for me. Makes me feel special. Don’t let the door hit ye on yuir astral ass on the way out.�

Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. Have you ever traveled the astral plane?

“I dinna believe in that hogwash.�

What’s not to believe? It exists. I exist on this plane, now, outside of the mortal one. Nothing’s impossible.

“I don’t see ye kissin’ anyone. Or eating with yuir mouth. Or even wiping yuir own bum. Doesn’t make ye much of a teacher.� Farouk fumed, but his disembodied face held its serene smile. Kevin was annoyed that their conversation had taken him past the first few scenes of his program.

“Stop it! You’ll kill him!�

“Vampires are already dead!�

Farouk’s words puzzled him once Kevin ran them back through his mind. Outside of the mortal plane.

“Ye said ye knew my father.�

Yes.

“And ye can invade people’s heads like he can?�

I wouldn’t go that far…

“Sure, ye would. Sounds like ye have a beef with the old man.�

It’s only fair. He was the one who killed me.

*


Scott’s spirit strained against the immaterial, yet unbreakable shackles that bound him. Farouk was versatile in his use of psychic possession. He could inhabit and manipulate more than one mind at a time, allowing him to make contact with Kevin, even while he held Scott captive inside his own body.

Jean! Charles! Help me! He mourned his predicament but gave up on panicking days ago. Farouk steered him and Jean clear of contact with Xavier ever since they disembarked from the luxurious private jet in Scotland. Outwardly, “Scott� appeared jovial, and perhaps a bit more smug than usual, but the occupants of Moira’s estate marked it up to the lovely redhead he had on his arm, and nothing seemed amiss.

Logan, however, bristled with unease every time that Slim walked into the room. He couldn’t name the strange tang that permeated the tall, easygoing brunet, but it was familiar. His manner was just… off. Even Jean didn’t seem like her ebullient self. She still smiled when Scott came to her door or met them at breakfast, but there were shadows beneath her green eyes, and her face seemed pale and drawn.

The day that Logan and Ororo announced that they planned to go riding in the woods surrounding Moira’s keep, Jean panicked.

“How long are you two going to be gone?�

“Why? Ya got some errands ya need us ta run, Red?�

“No! No. Just… I was wondering if you’d be back for dinner.� It was still mid-morning. Logan scowled. Ororo merely shrugged.

“We’ll be back in plenty of time. Why? Do you want to come along, Jean?� Logan huffed in irritation.

“Ain’t like we need a chaperone,� he muttered under his breath. Logan helped himself to a beer, chafing Jean in the process. His disregard of the social niceties annoyed her no end. Ororo was nonplussed, as usual.

“Jean’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf,� Ororo joked, letting a faint smile curl her lips. Jean forced a laugh.

“Bitch. No. It’s… no big deal. Ororo, er… do you want to go shopping today?�

“Now?� Ororo cocked one snowy brow as she considered it. She turned to Logan as he gulped down his brew and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Would you be heartbroken if we had some girl time, Logan?�

“Beats me why ya’ve gotta do it today,� Logan admitted, “but whaddever. Go ahead, ‘Ro. I’ve got Slim here ta keep me company. Got a nice pub right down the road, Summers. You in?� Scott smiled and held up his hands innocently.

“I can tell when I’m being deserted,� he told Jean as he stood and pulled her in for a kiss. Jean yielded, but her palms pressed against his chest slightly when Scott took liberties, snaking his tongue into her mouth in polite company. Logan looked irritated; Ororo was slightly puzzled, but she simply smiled.

“Let her up for air, Scott. Here’s your purse, Jean. Let’s take the Jeep.�

“You drive.� Jean was weak-kneed and felt drained, but relief washed over her as they exited the kitchen.

“What the fuck was that all about?� Logan chucked his bottle into Moira’s recycling bin beside the rubbish can.

“Women,� Scott shrugged. “Beer?�

“Lead on.� Logan put his misgivings aside briefly as he reached for his Stetson. “Yer buyin’.�

Scott smirked behind his back, but his expression smoothed itself into his usual smile as Logan peered back around with a slight scowl. He saw Ororo and Jean pulling out of the garage and careening down the road, hair whipping out behind them thanks to the Jeep’s open roof. Logan watched them longingly. He wanted another swim with Ororo, despite the cooler clime that made a sweater necessary.

He knew his tenure with Xavier was doubtful. So far, the professor hadn’t made any breakthroughs with Ororo’s condition, making Logan’s position at the school tenuous, and even unnecessary. Moira approached him with the prospect of teaching the school’s younger students in physical education, or even in foreign languages, once she dragged it out of him that he was fluent in several. Charles saw a future where he would expand the school as a resource and shelter for unwanted children with uncontrolled or unwelcome mutant gifts. He wanted a strong, determined man like Logan to help him make that vision a reality.


The previous day:

They’d laid it on Logan’s plate over tea in Moira’s library. Logan grunted at them both after they finished explaining their offer.

“I’m a mercenary and a shylock, Chuck. Been a soldier for longer than I can remember. Ain’t never been a babysitter.�

“There’s nothing wrong with branching out and expanding your horizons. You’ve still a long life ahead of you.�

“Got a long one behind me,� Logan shrugged. He swished the last of his tea around in the absurdly delicate china cup.

“Logan, I need to discuss something with you that might seem… awkward.� Charles steeled himself as Logan’s dark, shaggy brows drew together. “What are your intentions toward my daughter?�

“Shit.� Logan wiped his palm over his face and set down the cup. “Guess this was inevitable.�

“She’s fond of you. I’ve gathered that.�

“In her own way,� Logan admitted.

“The lass wore you down, is that it?� Moira jabbed. “This is why I had me own misgivings about ye bein’ near her. She’s not like the loose women ye’ve no doubt run around with in yuir travels.� Logan grunted indignantly.

“I know she ain’t. Gimme some credit. That ain’t how I feel about her!�

“For a man whose thoughts I can’t read, your feelings are rather transparent, my friend.�

“Ya think so. Then why’re we even talkin’ about this shit?�

“Because we dinna want ye playin’ games with our daughter. It might not see like she can be hurt, or like much affects her. But we won’t have ye tramplin’ on her feelings or using her and throwing her away. Yuir a drifter. I ken that about ye now, much as I did from the moment ye came into Charley’s house.�

“Then why even bring me in?� He turned to Charles, fuming. “Why even get me involved?�

“I had high hopes. I still do, Moira,� he told him, directing his attention to his lover. He took her hand and laced his fingers through it. “I feel Logan is reaching her. She seems less detached from us, emotionally. Less untouchable. There are moments where I see the girl she would have been if we hadn’t reached her too late.�

“That’s yer biggest problem in a nutshell. Stop actin’ like that woman’s damaged goods. She ain’t.� Logan was pissed off at their nerve and their seeming lack of faith. “She’s strong. Don’t gimme that ‘untouchable’ shit. If it seems like ya can’t reach her, maybe it’s ‘cuz ya keep backin’ away.�

“Yuir a fine one tae talk, man.�

“How much of an open book do ya want me ta be? Made my livin’ over the years keepin’ it on the down-low. That’s the other reason I’ve lived this long, sweetheart.�

“Ain’t yuir sweetheart.�

“That’s enough.� Charles’ baritone was clipped. He sighed. “Logan? What are you thinking? Will you stay? Will you keep trying to help her?�

“It ain’t gonna make much of a difference unless she feels I’m helpin’ her, Chuck.� He omitted that he’d tried to leave once, already, and that Ororo was the one who stopped him. It also still rankled with him that Ororo herself was giving him so little clue as to what she needed from him.

Or whether she even needed him at all.

*

Ororo and Jean reached a conservative looking women’s store and made some attempt to outfit themselves in the local fashion.

“This isn’t bad,� Ororo told Jean, holding up a soft, moss-green wool dress.

“It’s not me,� Jean sighed. “Ororo, I need to talk to someone about this. Scott’s acting weird.�

“How weird are we talking here?� Ororo’s blue eyes almost looked sympathetic as she peered at Jean over the hangers she rifled through.

“He scares me.� Ororo lost interest in the clothes.

“What’s wrong, Jean?� she murmured.

“He’s changed.�

“Take this. Come with me.� Ororo handed Jean the dress she wasn’t interested in, as well as three other random items from the rack. She pulled Jean over to the dressing room and ordered the attendant, “Let us have the biggest changing room you have. Quick.� The woman stared at them, baffled, and handed them a plastic tab with the number of items they were going to try on. She led them to the back and opened up a changing booth big enough to boast a bench and guest chair in the corner.

“Thanks,� Jean told her, embarrassed by Ororo’s brusque manner.

“That will be all,� Ororo added as she shut the door on the women’s astonished face. Jean’s cheeks flushed at the woman’s retreating thoughts as she headed back to the shop floor. “Talk,� Ororo ordered. “And try that on while we’re here. It will bring out your eyes, which look like you haven’t slept.�

“Don’t mince words, Ororo, tell me what you really think,� Jean sniped as she began to undress. She winced as she pulled her sweater down her arms, and Ororo tugged her around by the elbow, turning her so that her bruises showed up in sharper light for her to inspect. Dark purple marks marred her shoulders and biceps, looking as though she’d been gripped too hard.

“Jean…� She gently probed one, and Jean hissed, jerking away.

“It doesn’t tickle when you do that.�

“Tell me Scott didn’t do this.�

“He didn’t.� Jean’s lip quivered. “Scott’s not himself,� she clarified. “There’s something wrong with him, Ororo.�

“I’m going to be something wrong with him when I see him,� Ororo said quietly. “No one hurts my sister.� Ororo’s eyes flashed an ominous white, and Jean heard the low rumble of thunder outside. It wasn’t unusual for it to storm on that side of the pond, but it had been sunny with only sparse clouds when they first arrived at the boutique. Jean’s eyes widened, and she took Ororo’s shoulders firmly.

“Don’t. It’s okay. I’m okay. I promise. I just need to tell someone about this.� She released her and turned her back on Ororo to continue undressing. Ororo was relieved that she had no more bruises, but Jean’s body looked slightly gaunt. “He’s not himself,� she repeated. “He’s more possessive. Not jealous, but he hardly ever lets me out of his sight. He just invades my space. It’s not like before. You know,� she urged.

“I know,� Ororo agreed. When Jean and Scott began dating, they were almost saccharine. They shared gentle little touches or held hands or stole kisses when they left a room, together or whenever they parted. They spoke to each other using the psychic connection Jean forged between them, something Ororo could always tell by watching them; Moira and Charles often did the same thing.

But Scott was more aggressive, occasionally too bold to be proper. He groped her, sometimes swatting her bottom in passing, even when Douglas was in the kitchen, setting the young teen a horrible example. Jean sometimes appeared at breakfast with poorly disguised hickeys, or with her hair rumpled from its careful grooming. Scott occasionally knocked her down onto the bed when she was trying to get dressed, making her regret that they shared a suite from time to time.

The worst part was how drained she felt, as though all of her energy was ebbing away. Stress was taking away her appetite; food had little flavor or appeal to her. She had troubling dreams, and she heard a frightened voice calling out to her in her sleep. It unsettled her. The images were dark and troubling, full of blood and pain, and she heard the rumble of smug, deep laughter in her mind. She woke up many nights sweating and shivering, with Scott’s arm locked snugly around her waist.

The most recent one puzzled her. Victor had come back.

With a warning.

She’d hoped that the assassin’s death dealt by the final stroke of Logan’s blades would be the last she would hear from him, but he appeared in her nightmares. His face was stony and hard, and he was bigger than life, clad in the same rough fatigues and shabby cotton tank. His hair was clubbed back in a ponytail, barely tamed, and it brought out the hard, sharp planes of his face and his steely blue eyes.

He rose from the ground, shaking loose mounds of soil as they fell from his body. Woody tendrils and roots pushed him up above the surface, tangling around him as though they wanted to pull him back under. They snaked out and slithered over Jean’s feet. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone. Like tentacles, they snapped around her ankles and began to wind their way around her legs. She struggled and attempted to run, but her muscles burned with the effort as they pulled her ever closer to the blond giant.

“He’s watching ya, darlin’. He wants ya.�

“No,� Jean whimpered. “Leave me alone. Please, please, don’t hurt me…�

“Beg all ya want. Farouk always wins. He wants yer glow.� Victor’s breath washed hotly over her face as tears stung her cheeks. The woody tendrils scratched Jean’s flesh, drawing blood, and Victor tipped her face up to meet his when she tried to turn away from his leer. “Ain’t no escape, darlin’.�

“You’re dead! This can’t be happening!�

“Don’t matter, Jeannie.�

“Don’t call me that!�

“Don’t matter ta me. I’m dead. I ain’t worried ‘bout rufflin’ anyone’s feathers. I can call ya whatever I want. Ya still taste sweet.� His tongue slithered reptilian and hot from between his fanged teeth and slicked over her cheek. Jean shuddered and recoiled. She smelled a miasma of blood and steam on his breath, and it sickened her. The air around them was thick and swirling with black, noxious fog.

“Only one who can fight ‘im is the runt. Thinks he’s hot shit because he wouldn’t let Farouk dig his claws in.� Victor gripped her, tangling his fingers in Jean’s lush, long red hair, tugging it back to make her meet his eyes. “Yer like candy ta that bloat. He wants ta eat ya up in one bite. Can’t blame him, darlin’. Yer damn sweet.�

“He can’t have me.�

“He already does.�

“NO!�


She woke up screaming. When Moira and Stevie ran to her room, she tried to convince them that it was nothing.

“You scratched yourself,� Stevie tsked. She eyed long, shallow scrapes down Jean’s arm. Jean’s blood ran cold.


Jean was shivering even after she dutifully donned the green dress, and Ororo drew her into a comforting embrace. “It’s all right, Jean. It’ll be all right.�

“I thought he was gone, Ororo.�

“Maybe he’s just been waiting.�

“For what?�

“For us to slip up,� Ororo suggested ruefully. “But he didn’t kill Daddy. If anyone can keep him away, it’s him. He won’t win.�

“He’s trying to take me down, Ororo. I don’t know why, but I can feel it. I don’t feel safe.� Ororo shushed her and stroked her hair, rocking her.

They finished trying on the clothes, and neither of them regretted walking out of the shop empty-handed.

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight. Tell him it’s a girl’s night slumber party. Tell him whatever you have to, Jean.�

“Logan won’t mind?�

“Of course he will,� Ororo shrugged. They turned the Jeep back onto the road and headed for a small café for a scone and strong, bitter cups of espresso.


*

Logan began to play darts without inviting Scott to join him. Scott sat idly by, enjoying a glass of scotch on the rocks. Easily, Logan made perfect scores with each throw, earning dares from the patrons around him that he couldn’t do it again after downing a pint. Then, three pints. Then four. Then six. Scott looked on in amusement.

“Gonna sit there like a pussy, Summers?�

“Show me how it’s done,� he offered. “Unless you think I can kick your tail. I could just sit here.�

“Get your ass up.� Logan motioned him forward with a smirk and handed him red-shuttled darts. Scott took them and sized up the small round disk hanging ahead of them on the wall. He made an almost perfect shot, just left of center by mere millimeters.

“Not bad.�

“I’m full of surprises.�

“I’m scared.�

“Smart man.� Logan’s eyes narrowed as they bore into Scott’s back. He was more flip than usual. Scott waved to the waitress to bring him another, something that also struck Logan as odd. Kid was thirstier than he gave him credit for, and he was barely wavering after three still belts of Dewars.

“Haven’t seen much of you and Jeannie lately. Been keepin’ yerselves scarce?�

“She won’t let me up for air,� Scott boasted with a chuckle. “She’s a little hellcat.�

“This ain’t a locker room, bub. That ain’t what I asked. Two of ya just keep disappearin’.�

“It shouldn’t matter to you, one way or another, the plans we make while we’re enjoying our trip.� Scott’s mouth quirked as he took his next shot. The dart thudded loudly as it stuck in the cork. “Unless you had plans for her, yourself.� His voice was dark with lewd suggestion. Logan growled.

“Not on yer life. Red’s cute, but she ain’t my type. Two of ya are peas in a pod.�

“That’s an understatement, James. We’re inseparable.� Logan’s beer paused halfway up to his lips.

“What’d ya just call me?�

“Charles said it was your birth name.�

“Nah. He didn’t.� It wasn’t a detail the old man would have felt the need to share with anyone, knowing how private Logan was. Scott shrugged.

“He mentioned it for a moment, in passing.�

“Stick with Logan.�

Oh, but I will… “Whatever floats your boat,� Scott piped up. He downed his next scotch, enjoying its mellow burn.

“Pool,� Logan challenged.

“Lead on.�

*

While Logan wrestled with his memories in the dark in the solitude of his guest room, Jean and Ororo slept off the indulgences of Rice Crispy treats, cocoa and indecent amounts of buttered popcorn, huddled together in the soft, four-poster bed and thick blankets. Ororo sensed Jean’s fears and felt bereft, having no idea how it felt to be wrapped in an emotion that strong. She lay spooned against her best friend, feeling her rapid heartbeat through her back as she rubbed it in smooth circles, willing her to go to sleep.

“I’m scared, Ororo. He’s watching us. He’s waiting for me.�

“Not while I’m here.�

“He won’t leave me alone.�

“Farouk?�

“Scott.�

Ororo felt a frisson of unease. She was unused to it, and she didn’t like it. She adjusted her breathing, pulling long, deep drafts of air into her lungs and blowing them out slowly, willing Jean to do the same. Jean’s eyes drifted shut and she felt Ororo’s emotions wrap around her, calm and tranquil, even though she couldn’t read her thoughts. It was enough. She felt sheltered, safer than she had in weeks, and she dropped off into an exhausted, black sleep.

It took Ororo longer. She thought about Logan, not for the first time that day. She missed him, even if she’d never admit it to him. There was no sense in letting him get too sure of himself, was there? Silly man. Still…

He touched something inside her. He made her feel safe, even if she had nothing to fear. Bit by bit, memories of him, just snippets, began to resurface. She couldn’t make sense of them, and she wanted to, more than anything.

He’d fought for her. She knew it, not just because Charles had told her a carefully edited account. But there was something blazing in Logan’s dark eyes, intense and powerful whenever he looked at her. When he touched her, she felt something sizzle between them, even when she wanted to rebuff him. She’d grown used to his presence, and she felt strangely bereft when he left the room, or when she felt his eyes retreat from her, wanting his gaze to stroke her, not merely his hands.

She feigned annoyance. Do I have something on my face?

Nah. Yer fine, darlin’

Why do you keep staring at me?

Can’t help it. Sorry.

He wasn’t sorry. Not in the least.

It was flattering, even if she wanted to smack him for his nerve. It was like trying to push away a friendly dog that kept rubbing against your legs when you were trying to hurry off, where you tried to pacify it one last time, with one last scratch behind the ears even as you scolded it.

He held secrets that she wanted to unlock, and she wanted him to fill in the blank spots in her memory. He offered her mere tidbits, and Ororo decided it was probably her own fault for not being more insistent. What made it worse, was that she was fine with blocking out how she first came to live with Charles if it was unpleasant business that brought here there. If she was blocking it out, it was for good reason, right?

But she felt a gaping hole inside of her soul. She’d lost something significant, and it created a wrongness in her life. She couldn’t feel things fully.

The closest she came was when she was with Logan.

Don’t make me feel. She’d lied that night, to him and to herself. She longed to feel.

She slept dreamlessly and as deeply as Jean, but she felt lonely.

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.

Summary: The walls come crashing down.


“I wish…� Rahne stifled what she was about to say, and Kevin set down his rook.

“What?�

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry, laddie buck. Just me thinking out loud.�

“Sounds dangerous,� he agreed, but he prodded her. “Tell me anyway.�

“I wish you could come out,� she blurted. “I wish things were different.�

He turned away from the game between them and closed himself off. “I’m sorry,� she told him again, fearing that she’d ruined their blossoming friendship.

“Tisn’t yuir fault.�

“I know what it’s like tae be locked up,� Rahne told him softly. He wouldn’t quite turn around, but she saw his profile from just over his shoulder. “He locked me in my room or in the cellar all the time. He beat me. Sometimes so hard that I bled. He told me that I was a sinner.�

“We all are,� Kevin corrected her. His spooky eyes met hers again, and they held sympathy for her.

“Aye. But he said it was his responsibility to cure me of my evil ways.�

“How much evil can ye do at yuir age, lass?� Kevin scoffed. “Did ye rob spend all night in the pubs?�

“Nay,� she muttered, tsking at him, but a hint of a smile played with the corner of her mouth.

“He beat her. My father,� Kevin told her.

“Och! Not the professor! He seems so kind!� Rahne was horrified.

“Nay! Not him. My dad. He’s dead now.�

“I thought the professor was yuir father.�

“Shut up with that talk. He’s no such thing.�

“Well,� Rahne sniffed, slightly taken aback.

“My dad was an important man,� Kevin said. “He was a politician.�

“Fancy that.�

Kevin didn’t know why he was defending him, but the thought of acknowledging Charles Xavier as his father rankled him. “He and Mum didn’t get along.�

“Kevin… did he hurt her?�

He sighed. “Aye.�

“He beat her?�

“I’m tired of this game. Let’s watch Doctor Who.�

“That’s fine.� Rahne had been losing again, anyway, but she knew she struck another nerve. She let Kevin turn on the television set in his chamber, and she turned up the speakers in the lab so they could both hear the program. “I wasn’t allowed to watch telly before.�

“Never?� Kevin couldn’t conceive of being deprived of the one bright spot in his day. He looked appalled.

“Ever.�

“You poor, miserable wretch.�

*

Later that night:


The dream was the same every night for a while now. Sometimes Ororo and Farouk chose a different door. Sometimes she found herself in the mountains or in a dark cave. She hated the confined, clammy space, and she squirmed and whimpered.

“You can shine a light and chase away the shadows, darling.�

“I don’t know how,� she complained petulantly, and he gathered her up against his chest, stroking the soft fall of hair.

“You have the power within you. Never fear the darkness. You own it. Embrace it.�

Outside Ororo’s bedroom window, thunder rumbled and the winds picked up, rattling the petals off the roses in Moira’s garden. She tossed, finding the bedclothes too stifling. “No, Uncle!� she moaned. “Please! Don’t let it get me!�

*

“Let it become part of you,� Farouk murmured. His voice was silky and benevolent. Ororo felt something winding around her ankles, and she screamed.

“NO!� Inky black tendrils were lapping at her, working their way up her legs. When she tried to run, they snared her wrists and slithered before her. The gloom around her became more oppressive, and her heart pounded. She didn’t understand why Farouk was letting it pull at her, dragging her back. Suddenly she was small again, five years old, helpless, alone with no one to love and protect her. The more she struggled, the more it choked her, making her muscles burn with the effort. Her breath felt hot as it sawed in and out of her lungs, and the worst part of it all was that she was losing sensation wherever the writhing black mass touched. It was unnerving, frightening, despite that it was painless.

It covered her like a spill of paint. She no longer knew where it stopped; it no longer felt separate from her, like a garment that she could remove. It mimicked her skin, sharing her nerve cells, warming to the same temperature, smelling and tasting identical to her own essence. Her blue eyes flashed white, glowing orbs that broke through the darkness.

Her darkness.

*

Rain lashed the windows and roof, and the wind buffeted the manor in hard gusts. Ororo wasn’t the only one having a fitful night. Several of the residents of Kinross Keep huddled and tossed in their beds and listened to the howling gale, almost feeling the building electricity in the air.

Jean gave up in her struggle to sleep after the first crack of lightning. Something about the storm felt… off. She could remember thunderstorms from when she was a little girl living in upstate New York, how she would count the seconds before each roll of thunder and feel it shake the house. She always felt a sense of helplessness until it was over, never content to close her eyes until the last rumble died down and the rain settled to a rhythmic drumming against the roof and windows.

There was no rhyme or reason to the maelstrom outside tonight, no structure, no rhythm. Jean felt a flash of worry. Yet it felt familiar…

“Ororo!� Jean hissed. The revelation made her bolt upright in her bed, heart pounding. Something was wrong with her friend. Before she could fling away the covers, a hand reached for her, pulling her back down to the pillows. “Scott, let me up, please.�

“Come back to bed,� was the sleepy reply. Scott wore his sleeping goggles, so she couldn’t make out his eyes. She knew they couldn’t look as bad as hers; she’d had so little decent sleep lately. They were ringed in shadows and looked like burned-out holes in her head. His expression was tolerant and amused. “Scared of the dark?�

“No,� she argued. She settled against him, feeling resigned and frustrated, but the warm bulk of his body was almost comforting. He stroked her long hair dutifully, but she was in no mood for the smile in his voice.

“You sound scared.�

“Don’t give me a hard time, please.�

“What?� he pleaded innocently.

“Seriously, Scott, let me up.�

“What’s the hurry?�

“I need to go to the bathroom,� she claimed, hoping that would be enough to make him release her. He sighed and loosened his grip on her enough to let her sit up, but his arms snared her again, briefly, and she saw his eyes flash beneath his crimson goggles.

“Be quick about it.�

“Scott. Leggo.� Her eyes glinted dangerously at him, full of green fire. She gave his chest a small, sharp swat as he released her, but he didn’t let her go without a warning shove. The bed bounced as she evaded him, and she glared back at him briefly as she reached for her robe. Jean trotted out of the room.

“You could close the door,� he taunted. She didn’t look back. The door swished shut with a low slam, courtesy of one pissed off telekinetic.

Jean grumbled her way down the hall, heading in the opposite direction of the guest bath.

*

Logan nursed a beer, for lack of anything better to do. He was fond enough of the dark ales and stouts that Moira stocked in her fridge, and he spent some time sampling each brand. A short row of empty bottles gradually lined up before him on the table, and he sighed.

The night felt wrong. It wasn’t just the storm.

It was Ororo. She was avoiding him, and he didn’t know why. She retired to bed, and Logan noticed that her eyes looked hollow and exhausted.

*

“Darlin’? Ya okay?�

“Tired. That’s all. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?�

“Ya sure? Ya need anything?�

“Like what?� Her lips curled into a smirk. “A bedtime story?�

“I might know a few. Gimme some credit, ‘Ro. I know how ta read.� His eyes twinkled with humor. She sagged against the doorframe, drawing his attention back to her fatigue. “Are ya feelin’ well?�

“No. Yes. I don’t know.� She didn’t sound overly worried, she just didn’t know what answer to give.

“I wanna help ya, darlin’.�

“I don’t need help. Just rest.�

“Ya’ve been sleepin’ in a lot lately.�

“It’s jet lag,� she offered impatiently.

“Not after three weeks. That’s long enough for yer internal clock ta reset, Ororo.� She made a sound of surprise.

“You never call me that.�

“It’s yer name, ain’t it?�

“I wasn’t sure you remembered,� she teased. “Logan, I’m just tired. There’s nothing wrong. Don’t worry about me.�

Tell me not to breathe. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say. I know when I’m not wanted.� She tsked at him.

“Awwwwww. Muffin.� She feigned a pout and reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers in her light, cool grip. “Good night, Logan.�

“I can’t sell ya on that bedtime story?�

“I’ve heard it all before.� She freed her hand when he wanted to keep her there, but she brushed her fingertips over his lips. “Good night.� She closed the door in his face, and Logan grunted in frustration.

She’d left him hard. She shut him out. And now he was wide awake, while she’d be out like a light. He retreated downstairs to his beers and a leisurely smoke by an open window in the kitchen. In the dark, he watched the rain come down in sheets, feeling a frisson of excitement as flashes of lightning illuminated the hills and woods. Moira’s estate was beautiful, and he almost wanted to run into it for a while and feel the elements, let his bare feet slap the slick grass…

The storm stirred the wildness in him and beckoned to him to let go of his restraint. The woman who controlled the storm did the same, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He couldn’t reach her. He didn’t know what Charley expected of him anymore. Obviously, the old man didn’t want him to fall in love with his daughter. Logan couldn’t even justify it by insisting that ‘Ro felt the same about him, because truthfully, he didn’t have a fucking clue.

His instincts told him that ‘Ro needed him. Something inside him called out to her, and she wasn’t ignoring it, but… what the hell. What was wrong? What was missing? Surely she wasn’t afraid of him? She’d never been afraid of him. Not that it wasn’t for the best if she was; she’d be better off. Logan faced a decision that kept him up at night, not just on this one:

Should he leave, and never turn back.

He was growing restless. The simple, quiet life in the mansion was the softest he’d ever known. Charles suggested that he grow more involved with the students, with teaching them, and he scoffed at the idea.

“You’re a man of knowledge and experience.�

“That ain’t the same as sittin’ behind a desk and havin’ kids bringin’ me apples.�

“You paint a quaint picture.�

“I try.�

“Consider it. This is an opportunity to finish this chapter of your life and write a new one, Logan.�

“What chapter might that be? The one where I slay the beast and rescue the girl? Only one problem with that idea, bub. I am the beast.�

“You give yourself too little credit.�

“You give me too much, Chuck.� Logan turned from him and sighed. “I’m a career killer.�

“Not anymore. You don’t have to fill those shoes anymore.� Charles paused. “Not unless you choose to.� Logan jerked his head around to face him, and his heavy brows beetled.

“Ya think I like bein’ like this? Ya think I’m like Vic?�

“No. But on some level, you think you are. Victor took the easy road and embraced the darkness within his soul, but he also had help. Farouk made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. But even in the end, Logan, Victor sought redemption. You’ve already turned yourself on that path. It’s not too late to start over again. I have faith in you, or you wouldn’t be here.� Charles sipped his tea and gave him a pointed look. “And so does she.�

Logan turned away from him, and his fists curled at his sides.

“Ya know that?�

“Ororo often tells me volumes without saying a word. Listen to her. Be there for her, Logan, if you can believe in yourself.�

*

The trees lashed back and forth as the wind picked up, and its howl coursed through Logan’s bones, keening in his ears. His enhanced senses suddenly overloaded, and he was aware of everything around him. The drip of the faucet, the ticking clock above the sink, the faint hum of the refrigerator. The raindrops slapped sharply against the glass and he heard the cries of faraway crows and sparrows, the splash of tires on the puddle-swamped gravel road less than a mile from Moira’s property.

He set down the bottle, losing interest in it. Something was wrong…

His feet automatically spun him from the kitchen. The wood floor felt icy even through his socks. He took the stairs two at a time, not caring about the creaking planks, and the lightning illuminated all of Moira’s knick-knacks. Hummel and Tiffany porcelain figurines grinned benignly at him in the darkness, and the eyes of a portrait of Moira’s father seemed to follow him as he made his way toward Ororo’s room.

He had to see her. He needed to touch her, hear her, see with his own eyes that she was all right.

If he didn’t know better, Logan could swear she was afraid. What was worse, was that fear aside, she could still be in trouble.

*

A hand reached out to her, and Ororo clutched at it desperately and with all of her might.

“It’s all right, darling. I have you. I’ll never let you go.�

“Uncle!� In a burst of light, she emerged from the darkness, and Farouk pulled her to him. She heard his heartbeat, slow, steady and serene. She shivered against him and sobbed.

“Don’t…don’t let me go, Uncle. Please.�

“Never,� he insisted. “I’ll never let you out of my sight.� They were back in the white corridor, and Ororo felt disoriented and out of place.

“I want to go home.�

“This is your home, child. With me. Together, we can make this into anything that you want. You’re the one in control.� His voice was a soft, comforting purr as he guided her toward another door. She hesitated, but she peered up into his face, and he nodded. “Go ahead. Open it.�

Her hand didn’t tremble as she reached for the shining brass knob. She closed her eyes, and she felt his light nudge against her back.

She smelled stewed chicken and rice mingled with laundry soap. When she opened her eyes, she saw her heart’s desire, and startled laughter clogged her throat.

N’Dare Monroe stood at the stove in a battered but clean yellow calico apron, stirring the large pot with a wooden spoon. The sunlight shone down on her chocolate brown skin and soft, short kinky hair. She turned and smiled down at her pride and joy. Ororo pitched herself at her, running to the stove and flinging her arms around her mother’s waist.

“Mama!�

“Baby! There you are! Do you want to help Mama make Daddy’s dinner?� But Ororo couldn’t speak; she only clung more tightly, and she felt as well as heard her mother’s low chuckle. She smelled sweet and familiar, and her skin was so soft. She leaned her head against the faint swell of her mother’s belly, and her mother rocked her into the hug, not eager to dislodge her yet.

“Don’t get too close to the stove, it’s hot,� she chided.

“I love you, Mama. I missed you.�

“For how long? Were you hiding in the closet?� N’Dare asked, puzzled.

“No. I was playing with Uncle.�

“Silly goose. With who?� Her mother paused in stroking Ororo’s long plaits. Her smile was quizzical when Ororo looked up at her. But before Ororo could offer her an explanation, there was a loud bang outside. The house rumbled around them, and a chip of plaster from the ceiling landed in the stew with a plop. “OH!�

“MAMA!�

“It’s all right, baby! Come with Mama, don’t be afr-“ The house shook again, and this time, they heard staccato rounds of gunfire, the rapid pel-mel of automatic artillery. N’Dare shielded Ororo with her body and dragged her daughter with her into the corner of the kitchen, huddling against the wall. Continued bursts of gunfire and rumbling engines assailed their ears. Ororo was terrified.

Terrified. She burrowed further into her mother’s body, clinging with all of her might.

“Mama, I’m scared!� she cried. Hot tears rolled down her plump cheeks. Her mother looked just as rattled and didn’t even pause to wipe them away.

“It’s all right, baby, don’t-“ Her mother’s words were interrupted by her screams as the ceiling above them exploded, sending the drywall and beams crashing to the floor. Ororo heard her screams mingling with her mother’s before she mercifully blacked out.


Dark. Cold. Hurts.

Her body regained an awareness of where she was over torturously slow seconds. She wiggled her fingers; her arm felt trapped beneath something jagged that scratched her vulnerable flesh. Ororo’s nose and mouth were clogged with dust. The odors of smoke and gunpowder drifted around her, and she couldn’t see past the irregular shapes that crowded out the sunlight. In dawning horror, Ororo realized that she was trapped.

“Mama?� she whimpered. Her mother didn’t answer her; there was no reassuring caress of her hair or low sweet hum of her voice. Her familiar fragrance of Dove soap and Shalimar perfume was missing. “Mama! Where are you?� Ororo’s voice was a hoarse croak. She tried to move, but it was difficult.

She heard voices; they were a low hum at first. They spoke her mother’s dialect.

“I watched him walk up the steps, right when I was on my way out,� one of them explained impatiently. Ororo heard footsteps and felt the rubble around her shifting. She struggled and managed to push aside a chunk of drywall, but she was still pinned under a beam. She wriggled around, trying to find purchase against something more yielding.

Her cheek brushed against something soft. Ororo wiggled again until she freed her arm, and she reached up toward the yielding cushion. It was growing more difficult to breathe, and she began to sob. “Mama,� she cried, breath hitching in her throat. “Help me, Mama… help me, Mama…�

“I just heard someone!� a voice called out. Ororo heard a scuffling outside, and dimly she wondered where her Uncle went.

“Uncle?� she called out plaintively.

“It sounds like a child,� the voice insisted again. She heard banging outside, and it sounded like someone was pushing against their apartment door. “We need something heavy,� she heard. Roughly two minutes found Ororo cringing at the sounds that grew progressively louder, closer. Cursing and shouts mingled with the banging, making her heart jump. A crash almost as startling as the one that caused the ceiling to cave in preceded the return of the voices, closer than ever.

“I want Mama!� Ororo called out, hoping they would hear her.

“It’s a child!� a male voice cried.

“This is N’Dare and David’s place,� one of them announced grimly. “My God, they have a little girl…�

“Mama,� Ororo repeated, wanting them to listen to her and fix this and free her from her trap. She felt more of her body’s pains gradually, and warm blood seeped from myriad cuts. Her arm throbbed and her chest felt tight.

The rubble around her shifted, and Ororo whimpered at the additional pain that caused, but fragments of precious light broke through the darkness, and Ororo could hear the voices directly above her.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, we’re coming! We’ll get you out!�

“Want Mama!� Ororo pushed at the rubble, willing it to move, and their efforts made it jostle against her, creating more scrapes and dust. The debris shifted, and finally the beam pinning her was lifted away. Ororo tried to take a deep breath but choked on the dusty, smoky air.

“Shit,� one of the men hissed before he remembered himself. “It’s okay, sweetie, let us take you away from here.� His dark hair was almost white from the dust, and there were scrapes and bleeding nicks on his hands; his clothing was slightly tattered. Ororo struggled weakly as he reached for her, attempting to pluck her body from its nest of mangled, crushed plaster and wood.

“Where’s Mama?� Ororo demanded. Tears streaked through the dirt on her cheeks, and she leveled them with the fiercest glare that her young features could manage. She read heartbreak on the man’s faces and on those of her other saviors. The stranger’s grip was careful and warm, but her young heart only knew panic, whether he meant well or not, to be at the mercy of a stranger.

“She’s here,� he admitted, nodding down toward the floor. Ororo’s eyes followed his, and she screamed, a keening, piercing wail that seemed to echo through the demolished flat. The sound never ended. It was all she could hear, all she could feel…

Her screams rocked her core, and suddenly Ororo was falling, taking the memory of her mother’s broken body with her, the image of her hollow, empty dark eyes. Everything around her was dark. Everything was cold. She was alone, vulnerable and defenseless. She felt herself sucked down into a void, unable to grip anything to stop herself…

She struggled in her uncle’s grasp when he caught her. She was still screaming even as he set her gently on her feet. Her blue eyes were wild and her hair was a cascading tumble of tangles, but she was grown and mature once more. Farouk stared down into her face and embraced her, shushing her, crooning her name into her temple.

“It’s all right. Uncle’s here,� he soothed smugly. She trembled, and her teeth chattered despite the warmth that he offered.

“She’s… gone,� she insisted. “She left me alone. Mama left me all alone, Uncle.�

“There was nothing she could do,� he agreed. “But no one will ever take me away from you, darling. We’re family. I love you, and I promise you, Ororo N’Dare, that I will never leave you alone.�

“Make…make the bad things go away,� she hiccupped.

“I promise, child. You only have to do one thing for me.� Ororo licked her dry lips and clung to him more firmly.

“Anything, Uncle.�

“Let me in.� She pulled back in his embrace, staring up into his face. His gaze was kind and loving, indulgent of her grief and desperation.

Her fear was a potent drug to him. He couldn’t wait to unleash it, and in doing so, consume her. Her eyes pleaded with them, ageless and too used to violence and disappointment. His smile was reassuring, and she nodded quickly. His fingers caught her chin gently, and her mouth dropped open in mute surprise.

His mouth opened wide and wisps of glowing red energy rushed toward her, filling her, suffusing her soul with him. All she could feel was Farouk, and she could only heed his will. Her world began and ended with him, with the need to please and obey him.

Once again, she descended into darkness, but this time, it was like coming home.

*

To hell with leaving her alone. Logan kicked the door down, nearly splintering it after her third scream. Outside, the storm raged; tree branches slapped her bedroom window, and lightning threw dappled shadows and eerie blue light across the walls of Ororo’s suite. She lay locked in a nightmare, writhing and twisting herself free of the bedclothes.

“Ro! Baby! Wake up! C’mon, now, wake up, darlin’! I’m here!�

“UNCLE!�

“Shit,� Logan hissed. He worked her free of the stifling blankets, and she was garbed in a paltry camisole and tiny flannel boxer shorts, ridiculously little clothing for a cold Highland night. The chill never touched her, thanks to her mutation, or merely her disregard of it. Nothing bothered Ororo, or so they all assumed. There was comfort in the lie. Logan insisted that he hadn’t been lying to himself for so long. Confronting the truth staggered him.

Her body seized, every muscle locked and rock-hard. Corded veins stood out in her neck, and a tiny network of them rose up beneath her skin, raised in relief and pulsing with energy along her jawline and temples. She thrashed against Logan’s hands when he reached for her, but he couldn’t let go. Her skin felt icy and electricity made her seem to thrum against him like a live wire. He steeled himself against it; holding her was almost painful. The energy lifted her hair in a cloud of static, clinging to his hands when he tried to brush it back.

“RO! Wake up!�

Her blue eyes snapped open, but the woman who stared back at him wasn’t the one he knew. Her lips curled in derision, and Farouk tsked at him.

“So smug, James. So certain that you were watching out for her and that you’d driven the wolves from her door. You poor, pitiful bastard.�