Chapter 15
“Quite unusual,” Henry said, taking a closer look at the sketches he had done of Warren’s injuries. They were not in the irregular pattern that one would expect if the wounds had been caused by an accident. They were neat, almost perfect circle burns. Henry spread out the other drawings of Warren’s burns in front of him on his desk. They were all neat, circular burns.
“I do believe that is an understatement, my friend,” Xavier said picking up one of the sketches of Warren’s other injuries.
Henry chuckled, “Yes, but still accurate.” He flipped the papers around for Xavier to see. “These are exceptionally abnormal burns, Charles. They are almost perfectly circular in every area that they occur. Not only that, there was no sign that what ever caused them continued destroying the clothing Warren was wearing once they had reached his skin.”
Xavier peered down at the sketches, “Are you suggesting that someone “ or something “ was controlling the flames?”
Henry leaned back in his chair, “There wasn’t any evidence of fire where Warren was discovered, was there?”
“No and he could not have been able to travel far considering the extent of his injuries.” Xavier sighed. “Someone attempted to assassinate the prince.”
Henry nodded, “Only they did not make sure they had accomplished their task.”
“Perhaps they were believed the fall would finish it for them,” Xavier said glancing back at the deep cuts and scrapes in the sketches. “He did break a wing.”
“Yes, but if the person who did this,” Henry pointed to a particularly nasty burn, “can control fire, why not just burn Warren alive? It would have made things much simpler for them.”
Xavier thought this over. “What if whoever did this did not have anything against the prince at all? What if someone else hired them to do it, knowing their powers?”
Henry looked up at Xavier, “But who would want to kill the prince?”
Xavier sighed again. He didn’t know, but he had a bad feeling. “At least he is alive.”
“Has he woken up yet?”
“No, but Betsy and Rogue are keeping a close watch on him. It is probably for the best that he stay…” Xavier paused as a nearby presence caught his attention. He focused on it, wondering why something felt “off” about whoever was getting closer.
“Charles?”
“Someone is coming in,” He replied simply, opening the door to Henry’s office as a young man dressed in a slightly altered version of the prison guard uniform walked through the front door.
“Dr. McCoy?” He called. Xavier heard the shuffling of papers behind him and turned to see that Henry had put away all the drawings of the prince’s injuries.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Summers,” Henry greeted.
“Excuse me for interrupting,” Scott said, walking into Henry’s office. He turned to Xavier and extended his hand. “Scott Summers, Chief Guard of Allete Prison.” Xavier shook the younger man’s hand and introduced himself. Again, he felt something strange about the young man.
“Am I correct in assuming that this visit to my office was not a simple courtesy visit?
Scott sighed, turning his attention back to Henry. “Unfortunately, you are. Early this morning reports came in of strange noises coming from the carriage path in the woods. I sent one of my best guards out to investigate. What he reported was nothing like I was expecting. Same goes for the crime scene itself,” Scott paused, gazing past Henry and out of the large window facing the woods. Henry shot Xavier a quick glance over his glasses. They both could guess where Scott’s story was headed. “We found four men dead and the burned remains of the Royal Carriage. I had my men bring the bodies here, hoping that you would be able to give us some clue of who could have done this.”
“I will certainly do my best, Mr. Summers.”
Scott nodded once, turning towards the door. “I’ll have my men take them to your laboratory and I will wait for you there.” With a brief nod to Xavier, he left.
“Well I don’t need your telepathy to know that one of those bodies will be that of the late King Erik,” Henry said, removing his glasses.
Xavier sighed, “Which means that someone did attempt to assassinate the prince.” He closed the door as Scott’s men entered the building, heading towards the lab. “Henry, I would not mention to Scott that the prince managed to survive this attack.”
“Is something the matter, Charles?”
“There is something not quite right with Mr. Summers. I cannot tell you what exactly, but I believe his mind has been tampered with recently and whoever is responsible is not someone we would want turning their focus here.”
Henry peered down at the jagged cut across the neck of one of the carriage men. It was strangely familiar to him, but he could not say why at the moment. Frowning, he took the forceps from their place on the nearby tray and carefully pulled the torn skin further back. Underneath, Henry could see evidence of burned muscle tissue.
“Curious,” Henry murmured, mostly to himself.
“What have you discovered, Dr. McCoy?” Scott questioned. He was standing in front of the last body that the guards had brought in and left covered up. Henry guessed that was the body of the former king.
“The muscle tissues underneath the epidermal and dermal layers show signs of being burned. However the skin is merely blood stained. It is as if the blade was heated after entering the victim’s body.”
Scott seemed to think this over for a few moments. “And the others? Do they have the same injuries?” He watched as Dr. McCoy walked over to the next body and bent over its neck. After a few minutes of examining the wounds, he moved on to the final uncovered body. “Well are they the same?”
Henry sighed, putting the forceps on the counter. “No, the neck wounds on these last two bodies were burned from the beginning. Although,” Henry paused, gazing again at the injury in front of him, “the burns through the tissues of the second victim appear much more severe than the first and last victim.”
“As if the blade had been cooled down between the second and third victims?” Scott asked.
“Precisely,” Henry nodded. “The blade wounds themselves are also unusual. They are jagged, messy cuts.”
“Perhaps the blade is dull,” Scott suggested.
“No, the blade is sharp. It would have to be in order to cut through the tissue in the way it did.’
“So maybe the killer doesn’t have much skill with a dagger.”
“Or maybe they wanted to appear as that way.”
Scott considered this before pulling back the sheet covering the last victim. “And this wound?”
Henry waked over, expecting to see jagged cut across the former king’s neck. Instead he saw a dark stain on the king’s rich clothing and the dried blood clinging to his hands. It took a closer look for Henry to see the neat stab wound in the center of the stain. The furry doctor quickly grabbed his forceps and a pair of sharp scissors. Carefully he lifted the stained cloth from the wounded flesh and cut a neat square around the hole. After placing the cloth on the table next to the king’s hand, Henry used the forceps to slowly spread open the broken flesh.
He frowned studying the wound. From what he could see, there were no burns and nothing similar between this injury and the last three, with the exception of a knife wound. What could this mean?
“If I hadn’t examined the scene and only had these victims as clues, I would have thought that the former king was killed by someone different than those men,” Scott said waving his hand towards the other three victims. “There were only one set of footprints found leaving the scene and no evidence of anyone else passing through the area within the last two days.”
Henry’s frown deepened. He glanced over at Charles who was standing by the lab door.
“Perhaps,” Xavier started, focusing on the young man in front of him, “the killer was sent by another to assassinate the king and the other murders were purely for his own enjoyment.” Scott frowned down at the body of the king and Xavier took the chance to sharpen his focus on him. An image of flowing red hair and laughing green eyes met him.
“Rogue, could you bring me more of that salve Dr. McCoy made?” Betsy called as she started removing the bandages covering most of Warren’s back.
“Sure thing, Bets,” Rogue called back from the kitchen. Moments later she rounded the corner into the sitting room where they had the prince stretched out on the couch, surrounded by pillows. At first it hadn’t seemed like the proper place to put him, but it worked out. The back of the couch kept Warren from extending his non-broken wing and keep the broken wing extended. Not that the splint Dr. McCoy had attached to the wing would allow Warren to move it even if he was conscious.
Betsy took the ointment from her younger sister and began coating Warren’s burns with it.
“Those are lookin’ better,” Rogue commented, standing behind her sister. “Ah wonder who would’ve done somethin’ like this.”
“I really don’t know,” Betsy replied, looking up at the prince’s face. Wiping her hands on her apron, she reached up and brushed some stray hair away from his eyes. She wondered what color they were.
Rogue watched her sister and grinned to herself. “Remember when we’d say this village was dull?” Betsy chuckled, and nodded. “Now it’s almost like we’ve been pulled into our very own fairy tale, complete with mysterious strangers an’ a prince charming.”
“We’re just missing the grand adventure and magical spells.”
“Nah, ‘Roro is out having the grand adventure.” Rogue’s thoughts went back to earlier in the day when their father sighed in relief at Ororo’s letter. She hoped Ororo would send another soon.
“Ah,” Betsy turned to her sister, “and the magic?”
Rogue shrugged, grinning, “Who knows, maybe it’s happening right under your nose, Cinderella.”
“Cinderella? Wouldn’t that make you an evil stepsister then?”
“That depends,” Rogue said thinking it over. “Would ya do all my chores if ah told ya to?” She wasn’t surprised when Betsy laughed. “Besides, this prince charming came callin’ for you.”
“So shouldn’t I be the one asleep?”
“No, it’s like Snow White only reversed!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act like ya don’t know the story. Maybe if you kiss him, he’ll wake up!”
Betsy ignored the last part, “What about you?”
“Nah, he’s not here for me. My story is more like Sleeping Beauty. We found each other by chance,” Rogue stared off and sighed, remembering the night. “Anyway, are ya gonna kiss the boy to wake him up or just leave him there?”
“What about ‘Ro?”
“Ah already said she’s on her grand adventure. Probably out runnin’ through the woods knowin’ ‘Roro.”
“You mean like in Beauty and the Beast?”
Rogue nodded, “Exactly. Now will you wake the poor prince up? Ya know ya want to.”
“Kissing Prince Warren is not going to wake him up, Rogue.” Betsy argued even though Rogue was right. She did want to.
“Prove me wrong then.”
“Why should I? I know it won’t work.”
“Then ya’ve got nothin’ ta lose. Might as well try.”
Betsy sighed, knowing Rogue wouldn’t give up. Being the baby of the family she was a bit spoiled. Or maybe she was just born as stubborn as an old mule. “Fine,” Betsy said, knowing deep down she didn’t really mind giving in this time. Not like the prince would ever find out about a harmless peck.
“Go on then,” Rogue urged, grinning. Betsy rolled her eyes and leaned close to the prince, careful not to bump his injured wing.
Her eyes traced his lips. ‘What will it hurt? It’s just a little kiss, right?’ Closing her eyes, she brushed her lips against his and pulled away. She looked down at the prince, deciding that she only imagined the twitch she felt.
“See, Rogue, I told you it…” Betsy stopped mid-sentence when she saw the prince’s shoulders shift. She stared in shock as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing sapphire blue irises.
“What was that, Bets?” Rogue muttered as the prince groaned. She realized that he was trying to get up and shook her head. “Your highness, ya really shouldn’t try ta move right now. You’ve been badly hurt.” She thought he might’ve mumbled something under his breath, but she went on “My sister, Elizabeth has been looking after you.” She smiled as the prince’s gazed moved to Betsy who was still staring.
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” He said softly.
Betsy seemed to finally find her voice, “It wasn’t just me, your highness. My sister, Marie also has been looking after to you. As well as our father and Dr. McCoy.”
Prince Warren smiled sadly, “I do not deserve your kindness.” His eyes closed once more, “Please,” he whispered starting to slip back into unconsciousness, “tell your father and Dr. McCoy the sorceress is free.”
Red smoke rose up from the bubbling cauldron filling the small dungeon like room with a sickly sweet smell. Jean smiled and moved closer to the smoke, breathing in the fumes. She took a quick glance back at the glowing crystals on the table before turning to face the tall bookcase set against the wall. She studied the dusty jars filling the top shelf for a moment before pointing at the jar on the far right. The glass jar began to shake as if it were resisting Jean’s pull on it.
She laughed, holding her hand out, palm up, “Come now.” With one final shudder, the glass lifted into the air and floated over to Jean. As the jar touched her skin, yellow steam seeped through the lid. Smiling, Jean pried open the top letting more of the bright mist free from the glass. She reached into the jar and pulled out a single white petal and threw it into the bubbling potion.
Jean watched as the petal floated on the surface of the thick red liquid before turning black and dissolving. She frowned. ‘That should not have happened.’ She threw another petal into the now darker potion and watched as this one also turned black and dissolved. Her frown deepened as the potion itself turned black and stopped boiling. She looked up at her crystals only to see that their glow had also gone faint. She clenched her fists and walked to the door, ignoring the rumbling of the stone walls shaking around her.
The door was thrown open as soon as Jean turned her narrowed green eyes on it. The sound of rumbling walls followed in her wake as she stomped through the empty castle halls. The servants, hearing the telltale signs of Jean’s anger, fled to their quarters.
“This cannot be happening,” She muttered throwing open the balcony doors with a glance. Walking to the railing, she stared out over the kingdom “ her kingdom. “I just need a stronger potion. Nothing can stop me now.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, Sorceress,” a voice called from behind her. Jean turned, wondering who would dare walk up on her. No one was there. “Is something wrong?” the voice asked, laughter ringing in Jean’s ears.
“Who are you?” Jean asked, looking around for the source of the taunting voice.
“Do you really think I would tell you that? If you cannot figure it out for yourself, then that’s not really any of my concern.” Jean frowned. “I have only come to bring you a simple warning.”
“Oh really? And what would I need to be warned about?”
“Leave the kingdom or you will be destroyed.”
Jean laughed, “What’s this nonsense? Why would I leave when the kingdom is under my control?”
“Then you have sealed your fate.”
“You do not think we should tell Remy that we are going out for a walk?” Ororo asked as they walked out of the inn.
“Nah, he won’t even notice we’re gone,” Logan replied, glancing back at her. She nodded, catching up to him.
It was around mid-morning and the town was humming with activity. The cheery townspeople greeted them just as they had done the day before. Ororo looked around at the gleaming white buildings and perfectly trimmed flowering trees lining the golden street.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Ororo asked looking up at the bright blue sky. Logan turned watching her, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah, beautiful,” He said quietly. She tore her eyes from the sky, meeting his. They held each other’s gaze for a few moments, oblivious to the knowing smiles they were getting from the passing townspeople. Logan looked away first, clearing his throat. “I could do without the smell.”
“I did not even notice the flowers. I suppose I have gotten accustomed to the scent.”
“Lucky you,” Logan muttered. Ororo chuckled, reaching over and taking hold of Logan’s hand. Surprised, he glanced down at their hands, but didn’t pull away. A light breeze swirled around them suddenly and Logan felt a tiny spark between their hands.
“Sensitive nose?” Ororo asked as they continued walking.
It was Logan’s turn to chuckle. “You could say that.”
“I understand why the flowers are bothersome then.”
“It’s not just my nose that’s sensitive, ‘Ro,” Logan said as they crossed a side street. “What about you? Is callin’ up storms as easy as you make it look?”
“You are welcome to try it and let me know,” She replied with a grin. “And we were talking about you, not me. What did you mean?”
“Curiosity killed the cat, darlin’.”
“It is fortunate that I am not feline then.” When Logan didn’t reply she walked over to the next tree, pulling him along with him.
“’Ro what are you doin’?” Logan asked when she looked up between the tree branches.
“You seemed interested in what I can do,” Ororo answered as her eyes swirled white. The smell of ozone filled Logan’s nose and electric tingles flowed from her skin to his. “I am simply giving you a demonstration.” Shadow surrounded the tree, while beyond the branches the sun still bathed the street in light. The townspeople stopped, looking up above the tree. Logan looked up to see a dark storm cloud forming above the tree, wind shaking the branches and tugging at his jacket. He watched as a gentle rain fell over the tree. He had expected the townspeople to run off, but they stayed watching the mini storm, looking as awed as he felt. Then as quickly as it started, the rain stopped. He looked over at Ororo to see her smiling back at him.
“Show off,” He teased, reaching up and brushing the snowy locks that escaped her scarf back behind her ear. She shook her head and walked from beneath the tree, with Logan by her side.
“I was not showing off,” She insisted, still smiling.
“Yeah, sure.” Ororo looked at him expectantly. “Lookin’ fer a demonstration?” He grinned when she nodded. “Heightened senses aren’t somethin’ you can show off, darlin’.”
“I suppose not, but I am sure that they come in handy.”
He shrugged and turned his attention to a rosebush coming up in front of them. “I could say the same ta you.” Making a fist with his left hand he extended his claws, clipping off a rose. He caught the flower as he retracted the claws. Logan handed the rose to Ororo, whose eyes were focused on the quickly healing cuts on his knuckles. Once they healed, she took the rose, smiling again.
“And you called me a show off,” She said as they started walking again. “Did that..”
“Logan! Stormy!” Remy’s voice called from some distance behind them, interrupting Ororo’s words. They looked back to see Remy running towards them.
“He better not have blown somethin’ up,” Logan muttered, watching as the young thief dodged through the townspeople.
Ororo chuckled, “You would have heard it if he did.” Logan didn’t look convinced, but Remy had caught up with them.
“Mon ami, we ‘ave a problem,” Remy said quietly. “We should be on our way.”
“Did something happen at the casino Remy?” Ororo asked, concerned.
“Non, nothin’ like dat Stormy.”
“Then what are ya…” Logan paused.
“Logan?” Ororo asked looking over at him.
“Shh.” Part of a conversation across the road had caught his attention. He heard one of the men mention the prison guards arriving in town sometime during the day. “You know, maybe the kid is right. We still have a long way ta go.” Ororo frowned, looking between Logan and Remy, knowing that she had missed something. Logan grabbed her hand and started back towards the casino, with Remy leading the way.
“Are those Prison Guards?” Ororo asked, peering through the trees. They had left town in a hurry, moving away from the path, choosing to stick to the shadowed shelter of the woods. However, they were close enough to the path that Ororo could just make out familiar navy blue uniforms.
“Dunno, Stormy,” Remy answered, pretending to glance in the direction she was looking. Logan was silent.
She turned, narrowing her eyes at her two companions. “There is something you two are not telling me. Were you two in that prison?”
“Well…” Remy started only to be interrupted by Logan, grabbing hold of Ororo’s hand and walking further away from the path. Remy followed close behind.
Logan stopped once he could no longer hear the prison guards’ heavy footsteps and let go of Ororo’s hand. They were at the edge of a small clearing.
“Is someone going to tell me what exactly is going on here?” Ororo asked, crossing her arms. Logan leaned against a tree, looking off into the distance, also crossing his arms.
Remy sighed. It seemed as though he would be the one to tell her. “Oui, Remy and Monsieur Logan were in dat ‘orrible prison. Remy ‘appens to be a ‘umble t’ief who ‘appened to get on Summers’ bad side.”
“What did you do?”
Remy shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips, “Nothin’ really, Stormy. Monsieur Summers just didn’t like dat Remy picked ‘is niece’s fancy new lock. The fille should’ve known better than ta challenge me wit’ a lock like dat.”
Ororo’s eyes widened in surprise, “That was you?” That story had even managed to get to her tiny village. She never would have guessed that she would ever meet the thief who managed to break through Katherine’s lock.
Remy smiled, nodding, “Oui.”
Ororo turned to Logan, who was still staring off into the trees on the other side of the clearing. “What about you, Logan? Are you a thief as well?”
“No.” He sighed, nodding toward the nearby fallen tree. “It’s a long story.” Logan waited until both Ororo and Remy had taken a seat on the tree before speaking again. “It happened seven years ago…”
The early morning sunlight had just begun to filter down through the tree leaves, but Logan was already wide awake. He was in the middle of tying his boot laces when the light reached the windows of his cabin. As he looked up through the window he saw autumn leaves falling past the glass. He stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, slipping it on as he walked out the front door.
The grass in front of his home was now scattered with orange and red leaves. Winter was approaching quickly and he still had a lot of work to do to prepare for the cold. Frowning, he walked around his house to the old tree stump where he kept his ax. Logan pulled out the ax out of the stump with a slightly grunt, swinging it back to rest on his shoulder before setting off through the woods.
The next few hours found Logan hacking away at a large tree he had chopped down the previous day. He already had a large stack of firewood behind his house and another set aside to trade with the village folk, but he knew from experience it would not be enough to last through the entire winter. He stopped, setting his ax down before wiping the sweat from his brow. He had removed his jacket sometime ago and the cold autumn breeze flowing through the trees raised a few goose bumps along his skin. Logan looked over at the stack he had finished chopping and decided that he had better take this first stack back before continuing. Throwing his jacket back on, he gathered up the firewood and made his way back to his house.
An hour later, Logan was back at the tree. He was reaching for his ax when he heard the sound of someone running through the trees. He was about to dismiss it “ the sound was a few miles away and not heading in his direction “ when he caught the scent of fresh blood and lots of it. Leaving his ax behind, he ran toward the scent.
As he neared the path the scent went in two different directions. Barely hesitating he headed for the stronger source.
Moments later he tore through the bushes to see a young woman, lying face down in the bloodstained grass. Logan crouched down next to her and carefully turned her over onto her back. Three jagged, bleeding gashes stared up at him from the woman’s abdomen. He looked up at her face, surprised to see her eyes fluttering open. Brown eyes met his. Without thinking, he pulled off his shirt, using it to cover the wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. Blood was soon seeping through the material and covering his hands. She placed one of her hands over his causing him to look back up at her face.
“It’s too late,” She whispered. Logan knew it was. He could feel her pulse slowing and smell death clinging to her skin. She smiled sadly, weakly squeezing his hand, “Thank you for trying to help me.” With one last shaky breath, she closed her eyes and her hand went limp.
Logan stood up, considering going after the person responsible. He knew he could track them, but he didn’t feel right leaving the young woman’s body by some bushes near the carriage path. He heard footsteps coming towards him and he looked up to see men in navy blue uniforms running towards him.
“Stayed at the scene of the crime this time did you?” The young man with ruby tinted glasses questioned, reaching Logan and the woman’s body.
“What? You’ve got it all wrong, bub. I didn’t do this.” He pointed in the direction he knew the killer had gone, “The guy you want went that way. I just got here a few minutes ago.”
“A likely story,” the young man said nodding to the men behind him. They rushed forward, seizing Logan’s arms.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? If yer too stupid ta listen ta me, let me go and I’ll catch him,” Logan said, yanking one of his arms out of the men’s grasp.
“Cuff him,” the leader said, ignoring Logan’s words. Growling, he extended the claws on his free hand and landing two flesh wounds on the men still holding his other arm. The other two reached for his arms earning themselves broken noses. Logan ran for it while the guards clutched their injuries, hoping to get far enough away so he could have a chance to track down the killer.
He never expected the sudden flash of red and searing pain cutting through his back. Logan managed a few more steps before darkness took over.
“I woke up in a prison cell,” Logan finished, refusing to look in Ororo’s direction.
“Wow, Summers didn’t even look w’ere you said de real killer ran off?” Remy asked.
“’Ro,” Logan started, ignoring Remy’s question, “maybe you should go back…”
“I wish you both would have told me sooner,” Ororo said, interrupting Logan and standing from the log. A little surprised, he turned to look at her. She was running her fingertips over the rose he had cut for her. “Well at least I know now, I suppose. We had better be on our way. We still have some distance to cover before the next town.”
“’Ro,” Logan started again, only this time he wasn’t sure what to say. She walked over to him, taking hold of his hand again and leading him away from the tree. They set off, with Remy trailing behind as usual, strangely silent.
“Remy?”
“Oui, Stormy?”
“Could you teach me to pick locks?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder at the young thief. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Logan’s grin.
A/N: Continue? PS: Darlin I hoped you liked your cameo ;)
