True Believers: Part Two
By dawn, the weather had broken. Domino found the whole situation rather ironic. Twenty-four hours ago, she'd been longing for a day like this, a clear, beautiful day that would have given her and Nathan the chance to get out of the house and enjoy the snow and the scenery. Now, though, all she could think of was how much this complicated matters. Clear weather meant one less excuse she could use to keep Nathan here.
From where she saw by the window, Domino could see Nathan, standing outside in the snow. His back was to her as he scanned the horizon intently, but she could see the tension in his posture. Rigid, wary, he looked like he was expecting an attack at any moment. His great-grandfather stood beside him. Phillip had offered, with a perfectly straight face, to 'keep an eye' on Nathan.
The suggestion had actually made a great deal of sense to Domino. Nate wouldn't--couldn't feel like he was being overtly watched by someone who was blind, but Phillip, canny old fox that he was, might very well be able to keep Nathan distracted. He was probably out there trying to get Nathan to trade war stories.
Who am I kidding? Nate might not be thinking too clearly at the moment, but that doesn't mean his instincts are gone. He's got to know that Phillip's trying to stall him. Domino shook her head grimly. We need a real solution, not a delaying tactic that's eventually going to piss him off to the point where he takes off out of sheer spite.
This 'temporal wave', or whatever it was, had happened another three times since last night. With each recurrence, Nathan's behaviour was growing more erratic. Through their psi-link, she could sense his frantic, inexplicable need to be on the move, combined with a seething panic the likes of which she'd never felt from him before. It was like something was driving him, a powerful compulsion he couldn't consciously recognize--
Her hands clenching at her sides, Domino bit back a frustrated snarl. How was she supposed to help him fight something she couldn't see? The small device sitting on the windowseat beside her, a Shi'ar holographic communicator that Scott had left with her 'in case of emergency', emitted a brief bell-like sound. Domino hurriedly activated the unit, and it projected an image of Jean, who looked weary and worried.
"Please tell me the mansion's sensors picked something up this time," Domino said imploringly. Nathan had been out cold for a full quarter-hour after the last temporal wave, and when he'd come to, he'd muttered something about it being more powerful than the rest. God, please let them have found at least a trace of this one. Otherwise, I'm going to have a hell of a time convincing Nate to let the X-Men handle it.
"Not even a flicker," Jean said grimly, shaking her head. "We had Kurt scanning from Muir Island, and Hank even contacted the Avengers and the Fantastic Four to see if they'd caught anything we hadn't. But no dice. Reed Richards is still scanning--their equipment's a little more specialized than ours, after that business with Hyperstorm--but we haven't heard anything back from him yet."
"Damn it," Domino cursed under her breath, fighting back desperation. "That is not good news, Jean. It dumps the whole thing right back into Nathan's lap."
"I know," Jean replied, and Domino saw the same unhappy look in the holo-reflection of Jean's green eyes that she knew was in her own. "I don't know what to say, Dom. It's possible that our sensors are simply not calibrated to detect whatever this is. Then again, Nathan might be--" She trailed off, biting her lip.
"You think he's hallucinating?" Domino exclaimed, trying not to snarl at her. But of all the reactions she'd expected when she first called the mansion last night, disbelief--from Jean, no less!--hadn't been one she'd anticipated. "Jean, something happened. Nate doesn't generally keel over for no good reason." Unless this is some delayed effect of the psionic trauma, she thought uneasily. Crap. I hadn't thought of that.
"I wasn't going to say hallucinating," Jean said defensively. "I mind-touched him last night after you first called, Dom. I didn't see anything that would make me think he was losing his grip on reality." She gave Domino a level look. "But you can't tell me that you don't know that there's something wrong with him. He's so agitated, I'm having sympathy anxiety attacks a continent away. Considering your psi-link, I'm surprised that you're managing to stay coherent."
"Chalk it up to years of practice," Domino said with a thin smile. She felt foolish for snapping at Jean like that--maybe Nate's anxiety was influencing her more than she'd like to admit. "So, if you weren't going to suggest he might be hallucinating, what exactly were you going to say before I cut you off so rudely?"
Jean's mouth twitched in a near-smile, her only acknowledgement of the tacit apology. "I was just going to point out that with his shields so weak, we can't rule out the possibility that there's another mind influencing him."
Domino cursed. She hadn't considered that possibility, either. "Now there's an appealing thought," she said through gritted teeth. "Wouldn't you have found some trace of that?" Jean shrugged, and Domino sighed explosively. "All right, then. What do we do? It doesn't matter whether it's real or not. He believes it is, and I'm terrified he's going to try and teleport himself out of here."
"To me, the situation seems clear," Jean said decisively. "We need to get you two back to the mansion as quickly as possible." She sighed. "I was hoping to give him more time to rebuild his shields--bringing him back here into such a populated area is just going to mean more stress on him."
"Back to the mansion, huh?" Domino asked with a false little laugh. "I was hoping you'd say that." Actually, she was cringing at the thought of all the problems that awaited them back in Westchester. His shields being the most important, of course, but Domino wasn't looking forward to having to deal with Storm again, either. "At least there'll be more people around to try and knock some sense into that overly thick skull of his," she bantered weakly. "It's a tall order for one person."
Jean actually smiled. It wasn't much of a smile, but somehow Domino was heartened, seeing it. "Drop the self-deprecating crap, Dom. You've managed to keep him there for ten hours. That's what I'd call an accomplishment, although I'm fairly sure I don't want to know how you did it." She sighed, rubbing at her temples as if she had a headache. "Look, if these temporal waves are real, we need to have Nathan here working with Hank to try and figure out where they're coming from. Because if this is actually happening, he's right. We do need to stop it. But if this is another telepath, taking advantage of his shielding problems to try and set him up--" Jean's expression grew wintry. "Well, we need to know that too, for the same reason."
"I'm not sure which option I'd prefer," Domino said darkly. "And I'm not crazy about taking Nate on a commercial flight, in the shape he's in--"
"You won't have to. Scott and Bishop are already prepping the Blackbird for departure. Just keep Nathan there--"
"And if I can't?" Domino asked levelly. It was more than a possibility, especially if another temporal wave hit before the Blackbird got here. "What then, Jean?"
"If it comes to that--" Jean paused, then plunged on inexorably. "If it comes to that, for God's sake don't let him leave without you. And take the communicator." She gave Domino another faint smile. "We'll be there as soon as we can."
***
Nathan wondered how angry the rest of his family would be if he just 'happened' to strangle his great-grandfather. He scowled, telling himself not to be stupid. Sure, it was Phillip who was chattering on amiably about the most inane subjects in a transparent attempt to keep him distracted, but Nathan knew very well hwo was behind the whole thing.
I should just leave. The thought was accompanied by a powerful feeling of rightness, and Nathan winced. He shook his head as if to clear it, dimly aware that he wasn't thinking straight but not sure what the problem was or how to correct it.
"Nathan? Nathan, are you still there?" Phillip was beginning to sound alarmed, and Nathan turned, meeting his great-grandfather's blind eyes with a bitter smile.
"Of course I'm still here, Phillip. Where else would I be?"
Phillip suddenly gave him a rueful smile, although he looked troubled. "I suddenly feel like a bit of an idiot," he said in a conversational tone. "You're a telepath, like Jean. You're seeing right through this, aren't you?"
Nathan snorted. "Well--yes. It was a good try, though." He fought back a sudden wave of irritation. Why was he letting himself be drawn into small talk? "Look, Phillip, I know what you and Deborah and Dom are trying to do, but I really have to go--"
"Where, Nathan?" Phillip interrupted him, sounding only mildly curious. "Where do you have to go?" Nathan stared at him for a moment, confused, and Phillip continued serenely. "You don't know where these--what did you call them, temporal waves?--are coming from, do you?"
Nathan growled. "That doesn't matter, Phillip! I have to go. I always--have to go," he finished in a very different voice, suddenly confused. That wasn't what he'd meant to say. It had just slipped out.
"You know what I think, son?" Phillip asked carefully. "You're reacting, not thinking. I'm not going to presume to guess why, but I know I don't need to tell you how dangerous that is."
Nathan suddenly heard a familiar roar in the distance, and couldn't repress the shudder of dread that ran through him. "It's happening again," he muttered, and saw the alarm on Phillip's face. The sound built more slowly this time, and Nathan took the opportunity to reach out to it, trying to get a sense of where it came from.
This one was a great deal closer to being fully in their space-time neighborhood, Nathan realized grimly. His fists clenched at his sides as things started to fall into place. Each wave was less and less phased, and the difference was almost measured, as if the 'frequency' was rising in steps--
Like a test sequence of some sort.
A tiny, near-submerged part of his mind had been hoping that this was some natural phenomenon, or something that was happening cross-time, where presumably another version of Nathan Summers would be responsible for dealing with it. But if this was being artificially generated--he gave a snarl of frustration, feeling like he was ramming his head into a brick wall. The answer was there, he knew it!
"Help me," he muttered, not sure who he was talking to. And in that moment, entirely unbidden, he felt those mysterious reserves of sheer power open up to him again. Legacy of the Dark Phoenix fragment that had animated Madelyne, according to Jean. To be feared, repressed--never to be used.
To hell with that! he thought jubilantly. He heard Phillip gasp beside him, and noticed absently that he was giving off heat energy powerful enough to melt the snow around him. Not wanting to alarm the old man any more than neccessary, he rose into the sky with something less than a conscious effort.
He remembered this feeling from the forest in Alberta, this crystal-clarity and sense of omnipotence. But he knew he couldn't hold onto this power for too long, not if he didn't want to risk the same frightening loss of control he'd suffered against Taylor and the Marauder clone of Sabertooth. Even now, he could feel it building like a fire in his head, feel himself growing more detached from his body--
But he wasn't going to need it for all that long. He looked out over the snow-covered Alaskan landscape, and saw another wave of temporal energy sweeping towards him. Instinctively, he constructed a complex web of shields, a combination of telepathic and telekinetic defenses with an element he didn't recognize. The strange energy felt very different from anything else he'd handled, yet it came unmistakably from within him--
The wave moved closer, and he felt his lips draw back from his teeth in a snarl. Come on, whoever you are! I'm ready for you!
***
Domino heard Phillip shout her name. Charging outside, her jaw nearly hit the ground as she saw Nathan floating in mid-air, at the center of a web-like structure of fiery red-gold energy. It pulsed fiercely, in a rhythm that reminded her inescapably of a heartbeat.
Phillip stood just to one side of the energy web, apparently frozen with fear. She hurried to pull him away, pushing him towards Deborah, who had followed her out. Only then did she let herself deal with the larger problem.
"Nate!" she screamed up at him. "What the hell are you doing?" He didn't answer. She noticed the color of the energy surrounding him, and terror washed over her as she remembered Logan's description of the partial Phoenix-manifestation Nate had treated him and Bishop to in Alberta. Answer me, you lunatic! she projected as strongly as she could across their psi-link.
When he didn't, she hissed with frustration and turned to look in the direction he was facing, hoping to find some clue as to what had made him react like this.
It has to be another temporal wave, she thought frantically. Behind her, she heard Deborah gasp. "Just stay back," she said quickly, peering into the distance. "I don't know what he's doing, but--"
Domino felt her knees go weak. Because she could see something this time, off in the distance. Not a wave of energy, as Nathan had described, but a strange quivering in the air, almost like heat-shimmer.
And it was getting closer. "Something tells me this isn't a hallucination," she muttered, trying not to tremble as the shimmering grew more intense, spreading out in both directions for as far as the eye could see.
"Good Lord," Deborah whispered. "Domino, what--"
It hit Nathan's energy web, and suddenly they could see the temporal wave in all its hideous glory, a towering wall of malevolent green light.
***
Nathan reeled backwards as the temporal wave impacted on his energy web. He barely managed to keep himself in the air and the web intact. The power of the wave was incredible--even after all his trips through the timestream, he'd never come into contact with anything like it.
And it sang, even as it tried to batter down his shield. He called on more of the Phoenix-energy, desperately shutting out the alluring call of the temporal wave. It wanted him to use it, to reshape the world with it--
No. Not the world. Himself. And somehow, some way, he knew the promise wasn't meant for him.
But when he thought of what he could do with such power no, he told himself dizzily. You can't harness chaos. I have to stop these waves, destroy them. Before they damage the timeline and everything we've worked for.
Stop a force of nature? Doubt fluttered at the edges of his awareness, and he felt his link to the Phoenix-energy begin to fray. He was just a man, after all. How could he win a battle like this?
No, a voice whispered in his mind. It sounded like Jean, but it was too cold, too cold even to be Madelyne. You are a force of nature, too
Suddenly terrified, he shut the voice out, but he was too late. The wave had reacted swiftly to take advantage of his momentary distraction. He could feel himself losing the struggle to hold it back.
***
Domino watched the temporal wave push and tear at the energy wave like a living thing, a wild animal trying to break through. The energy web glowed brighter in response, reshaping to compensate, but Domino could see it weakening, some of its strands breaking under the pressure. She could feel the effort Nate was putting into keeping the wave back, but it wasn't enough. With the Phoenix-energy augmenting his own increasing powers, he had more than enough raw strength at his disposal. But somehow she realized it was his lack of skill, of experience, that was hindering him here. This wasn't anything he'd ever had to deal with before, and she could sense his mounting desperation through the psi-link.
She wasn't surprised when the web crumbled. The wave instantly disappeared, melting back into that strange invisibility as if the contact with Nathan's shield had been the only thing allowing her and the others to see it at all. The fiery light around Nathan died, and he fell from the air. Domino cried out as he hit the ground a short distance away.
She ran to his side, expecting to find him hurt or worse after a fall from such a height. But apparently the snow had been enough of a cushion. He was clearly stunned, but she couldn't sense anything along their psi-link that made her think he might be injured. Lying flat on his back in the snow, he blinked up at her, looking mildly irritated.
"Well, that didn't work," he grumbled, sitting up slowly. She reached out instinctively to help him, but froze as he continued in a disgruntled tone. "I'll have to try something else, I guess--" He frowned at Domino. "Did I sprout an extra arm or something? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason," she said calmly, and hit him as hard as she could.
If he hadn't been half-metal, the blow probably would have broken his jaw. As it was, it knocked him out cold. He toppled over backwards, and she winced, shaking her hand. "Ouch," she said with a sort of desperate humor. "If I needed any sign that my luck was back in working order--" She'd hoped, but not really expected to catch him off guard like that. Still, she wasn't complaining.
"Domino!" Deborah said, looking shocked, and Domino gave her a taut smile as she got to her feet and hauled Nathan up off the ground. She pulled his arm around her shoulder so that she could half-drag, half-carry him into the house.
"Open--the door, will you? He weighs--a ton!"
She ignored Deborah's appalled looks and Phillip's agitated questions until she'd gotten Nathan into the house. She eased him down carefully on the couch, and then straightened, gritting her teeth in frustration.
The communicator hadn't been the only piece of equipment Scott had left her. There had been a medkit, too. Why didn't you remember that, you idiot? she asked herself harshly. She went and retrieved it from the guest bedroom, rooting through it quickly to find a hypospray loaded with the same sedative that Hank had used on Nathan back at the mansion before they'd rediscovered the psi-shielded room back at the mansion.
He's going to kill me when he wakes up, she thought resignedly, returning to the main room of the house. Phillip was sitting down, shaking his head, while Deborah knelt beside the couch, apparently checking Nathan's pulse.
"You will explain, I trust," she said severely when Domino came up beside her. "That seemed a little extreme to me."
Domino grimaced. "The whole situation has just turned rather extreme, Deborah." She bent over and without a qualm, injected Nathan with the entire contents of the hypospray. The T-O virus tended to mitigate the effect of any drug on his system, but this much should keep him out for hours. And she didn't want to chance him waking up before Jean and the Blackbird got here.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Deborah asked worriedly, getting to her feet as Domino straightened and laid the empty hypospray on the nearby end table.
"Not entirely," Domino said with perfect honesty. "But I'm damned sure I don't want him waking up before Jean gets here." She sighed at Deborah's expression. "Well, the explanation would be one way to keep ourselves occupied for the next few hours. How much did Jean and Scott tell you about the Phoenix-force?"
***
Pete Wisdom sighed as he saw the girl stalking him. Apparently, Melissa had escaped from the stewardess again. It was really too bad the plane had such a long stopover in New York before going on to Vancouver. He felt rather sorry for the young women charged with riding herd on the little monster. Nevertheless, he was more than glad that this was his stop.
He hefted his carry-on to his shoulder, taking the opportunity to stop and check if the girl was still there. She was. And he was getting a little close to the exit. Cursing his misplaced sense of responsibility, he stopped, and waited until she caught up.
"Where are you going?" she asked brightly, coming to a stop at his side. "I thought you were coming to Vancouver?"
"I didn't say that, you little rodent--" he grated, thoroughly fed up with the child. The flight had been sheerest hell. He'd come to the conclusion about an hour out from London that he would never make a good father.
Melissa looked hurt. "I'm not a rodent," she protested, and sniffled, tears clearly threatening.
"Oh, for the love of--" Pete sighed, and crouched down so that he was at eye level with the girl. "I'm sorry, Melissa, but I've really got to go now. I've got an important errand to run." One of Dunworthy's American contacts was waiting for him in a bar not far away from the airport. From there, they were heading to a private airstrip out in the country, where a plane utilizing technology from two thousand years in the future would take him to Anchorage far faster than anything in this era could offer. The initial plan had been to take a similar plane all the way from London, but fearing a leak, Dunworthy had thought he'd be safer on a commercial flight for the first leg of his journey. Dunworthy was a firm believer in anonymity, and there had been too much intelligence lately suggesting that the enemy knew more about them, their operations, and their equipment than was entirely safe.
"Okay," Melissa said, shuffling her feet. Then she looked up at him shyly, and Pete was astounded when he felt himself smile. "I know I'm a pest," she said softly, "but I'm glad I got to sit next to you, Mr. Wisdom. You're neat."
Pete sighed, shaking his head. On top of her obvious sociopathic tendencies, she was too bloody cute for her own good. "Likewise, princess," he lied, standing up and patting her on the shoulder. "But you should really get back to the Air Canada desk before one of the stewardesses loses it totally and comes after you with--"
What felt like a giant hand suddenly slammed into his chest, throwing him backwards through the air. He landed hard, in a pile of luggage, and blinked up at the ceiling for a long moment, stunned.
What the hell--some kind of explosion? Abruptly, he remembered Melissa, and struggled desperately to his feet. There were people running and screaming, and as he looked quickly towards where he'd been standing, he saw why.
There was a great smoking gouge in the smooth tile floor of the airport. Looking at the damage, he knew instantly that it had been made by some sort of energy blast. Another mutant, then, and while Pete had more than his share of enemies, he had his suspicions as to who this one probably worked for.
But then the smoke cleared, and he saw Melissa lying motionless on the floor. Cursing, Pete ran over to her, but he knew even before he knelt at her side and checked for a pulse that she was dead.
"No--" he muttered, blinking back tears. "Oh, bloody hell." Another innocent, lost to this madness. "Where are you, you son of a bitch?" he screamed, getting to his feet and preparing to incinerate whoever had done this.
He didn't have to wait long for an answer. As people ran desperately for the exits, panicking, his opponent stepped into view. A tall, muscular woman in a bronze armor suit, her hands glowed with the residue of the energy blast that had killed Melissa. She was totally unfamiliar to him.
"Surely you can think of something more original than that," she said in a teasing voice. She had short coppery hair and odd eyes that were nearly the same color. "They seem like pretty poor dying words to me, Mr. Wisdom."
She knew who he was. Since she was here, she undoubtedly knew what he was doing, too, so he didn't bother with the usual pleasantries. It appeared that Dunworthy's fear of a leak had been well-founded. Typical that it should be on the American side of the equation. Fueled by rage, Pete sent a full spray of hotknives at her. She dodged, but one clipped her arm and screamed, coming back to her feet with a look of rage on her face. Her hands clenched into fists and she sent another energy blast in his direction. He hit the ground, and the wall behind him exploded.
I have to get out of here, he thought desperately. He couldn't risk any more innocents being caught in the crossfire. He sent some more hotknives in her direction as a distraction, and then ran for the exit, keeping as low as he could.
"Running away?" he heard her snarl. "How disappointing! But you don't think you're going to get away, do you? I'm not here alone! My lord is rarely so careless!"
Pete muttered an obscenity under his breath and dove for the doors--which were automatic, thank God, or he'd have gone head-first through the plate glass. Another blast went right through the space where he'd been a moment before, and he rolled frantically away from the impact crater.
Her lord--well, that makes the question moot, doesn't it? Dunworthy had warned him that Apocalypse had agents everywhere these days, but Pete hadn't really expected them to find him so quickly. Another energy blast sizzled over his head, barely missing him as he dropped to the pavement. He came back to his feet behind a trash bin and looked around quickly.
There were people running, screaming, and in the distance he could hear approaching sirens. Just what we need. He joined the running crowd, dodging back and forth, hoping to blend in. I just hope there's not a bloody telepath out there
#Why, what a thing to say,# came an amused feminine voice in his head. Pete cursed, but kept running. The voice sounded a little irritated. # I'm not with them, fool. I'm here to help--at least, I think I am.# He heard the distinct sound of a sigh. # That's the problem with letting need guide your teleportation. You never know where you're going to end up. I thought I'd misjumped somehow, but apparently the premonition that convinced me to stay here behind a rubbish bin for most of the night was accurate. By the way, duck!#
Still half-convinced it was a trick, Pete hesitated to obey for just that fraction of a second too long. Someone slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground. He hit his head against the curb and his vision went dark briefly. After a moment, he felt himself being lifted from the ground.
He blinked, trying to bring his vision back into focus. When he did, he wished he hadn't bothered.
"Stupid to run," said his attacker, a towering, scale-skinned mutant with a forehead ridge that reminded Pete of an iguana. He grinned at Pete, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. "Get it over with faster, no?"
"No," came the same voice he had heard in his head. The lizard-like mutant howled and dropped him, clutching at his skull in agony. He suddenly lurched sideways, and Pete, looking up, saw his rescuer standing there, a faint smile on her face.
Slim and athletic-looking, with chin-length blond hair, she looked young, maybe Kitty's age. Her left eye was deep blue, full of a wisdom that told Pete she had done more, seen more than he could ever imagine. The right eye, however, was prosthetic, and not a particularly subtle one at that. Not only had her eye been replaced, but the flesh and bone surrounding it, as well. No attempt had been made to disguise the prosthesis; delicate technological filaments stretched halfway down her cheek. She wore an oddly familiar uniform, blue and gold with bits of armor around the shoulders and arms. But it was the small, dark tattoo between her eyes, looking very much like the stylized Phoenix on his medallion, that told Pete exactly what she was.
"I trust you'll take my advice the next time."
"You're an Askani!" he gasped. "How did you--"
Her mouth twitched. "I would suggest that explanations wait until later, kinsman," she said softly, offering him a hand up. "For now, let us make our exit quickly. Those two are not the only minions of Apocalypse in the area."
"You're not going to get any argument out of me," Pete said hoarsely, surprised by the strength in her slender frame as she all but hauled him to his feet. "But where are we--"
She winked at him. Then, the world around them disappeared.
***
Her hands shaking, Golden made the neccessary adjustments to the communications unit to ensure that the transmission would remain undetectable even to the most sophisticated equipment available to her lord's enemies.
The security arrangements complete, she hurriedly activated the unit. The holographic image of her lord and master took shape, and Golden genuflected, her hand over her heart.
"My lord," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "I received your signal. There is a problem?"
"There is a problem," Apocalypse said, his voice as penetrating as if he had been standing right next to her. She forced herself to look up at him, and saw a slight smile on his distorted face. "There is also no need to cower, child. It is not a problem of your making--although it may soon become your responsibility to fix, I am afraid."
"Master?" Golden asked faintly, unutterably relieved that whatever this was, it wasn't her fault.
"One of Dayspring's agents in England has discovered the operation underway there," Apocalypse rumbled. "A second agent, a member of the European X-Men, has been dispatched to the United States, to warn him. Colleagues of yours tried to stop him and failed. We must assume that he will reach Dayspring, and that Dayspring will investigate."
"If he interferes, or discovers the connection to this place--" Golden pursed her lips, considering the problem. "I'm not sure which would be preferable, my lord. If the base in London is compromised, the completion of the machine would be delayed. Perhaps it would be wiser to lead him here, where our forces are strongest--"
Apocalypse looked displeased. "Always, you underestimate his capabilities!" he growled. "Your confidence is unwarranted for someone who has never faced Dayspring in battle. He is no easy target, as others before you have discovered to their dismay." He sounded suddenly frustrated. "I will not permit him to interfere with my ascension! He must not be allowed to discover the machine--not until the proper time!"
"Of course not, my lord," Golden murmured. "I spoke in haste."
Apocalypse stared at her for a moment, his gaze penetrating to the depths of her soul to search for true repentance. Apparently what he saw satisfied him. "Very well. Inform the Dark Riders they are to report to Vandal in London. I trust your security will not suffer for their absence?"
It wasn't really a question, but she shook her head anyways. "No, my lord. I have sufficient forces here."
"Good," he said, his image beginning to fade. "So far I am pleased with your progress, Golden. Take care you do not give me any reason to feel otherwise."
She bowed again, and remained in that bent posture until the connection was broken. Straightening, she smoothed her hair, trying to slow the racing of her heart.
Sometimes she truly hated Apocalypse. His was one mind she had never dared to touch. And then there was her mother to consider--she shivered. The risks of serving Apocalypse were great, as her family had discovered. But the rewards were as enormous, if you were strong enough, clever enough, to see it through to the end.
Or so she kept telling herself.
***
"Bloody hell!" Pete roared as they re-materialized. He wrenched his hand free of her grip. "Warn a bloke, the next time!"
"My apologies," the Askani woman said, sounding utterly unrepentant. Pete looked around and saw they were in a warehouse, deserted by the looks of it. She noticed his attention to their surroundings, and smiled tiredly as she went over to a nearby crate and sat down with a sigh. "This place is safe, little brother. It is one of the sanctuaries the retrocognitives pinpointed for me before I made the trip back."
Pete frowned, suddenly noticing her pallor. She had moved stiffly, too. "Are you hurt?" he asked in some concern.
She gave him a slight smile. "No, just tired. The time-jump is not an easy thing, and encountering the Other nearly as soon as I arrived was not--pleasant."
"The 'Other'?" Pete asked.
"The boy. The dark twin who stands where Stryfe once stood."
Pete abruptly felt chilled. "You meet Nate Grey." He winced, shaking his head. "I don't know where you get your information, love, but the kid's not Stryfe. An annoying little pissant, maybe, but he hasn't displayed any genocidal tendencies so far."
She gave him a sad smile. "Not yet."
"Bloody hell!" Pete swore again. "I bloody well hate you time-traveling types--" She watched him, patiently, as he paced around cursing under his breath. Pete finally stopped, realizing the absurdity of his behaviour. He turned back to her, composing himself. "I didn't thank you," he said gruffly.
"No need," she said. "We both serve the same cause--"
"Sorry, but I don't serve anyone or anything." She gave him an incredulous look, and he shrugged. "I let myself get guilted into helping out, that's all."
"You carry the amulet of the Clan," she said, raising an eyebrow and pointing at his pocket. It was his turn to look baffled. "I felt it," she said patiently. "That is why I knew I was to help you, even before I saw your quest in your thoughts."
"You felt it? How?"
She mimicked his nonchalant shrug almost perfectly, and Pete gave her a dark look. "There is something of his power about it, although it has nearly faded. He gave it to you long ago, did he not?"
Pete swallowed. This is too bloody eerie for me. "Nearly ten years," he finally said, squirming at the memory of some of the nights he'd fallen asleep holding it, like it was some bloody stuffed animal or security blanket. She nodded wisely.
"I thought so." She frowned. "You are truly not of the Clan? It seems--irregular that he would give such a potent token to an outsider."
"Well--" Pete trailed off. What did she mean by part of the Clan? He certainly didn't subscribe to that 'We live for the One, We die for the One' crap that Dunworthy and the rest spouted--
"I see," she said suddenly, smiling at him. "A cynic. But the connection is still there, isn't it?" She tilted her head, looking intrigued. "A lifeline, that you hold to in your darkest moments--"
Pete blinked, suddenly overcome by memories of those weeks in Mexico, so many years ago. He shook his head violently, giving her a warning look.
"Stop messing with my mind," he said through gritted teeth. "If you want to know something, ask."
She raised a defensive hand. "Again, my sincerest apologies." This time she sounded like she meant it. "Among the Askani, your thoughts are rarely private. We live as one--it's a difficult habit to shake."
"Sounds like hell to me," he grumbled. "I'd hate to inflict my thoughts on anyone else--" She chuckled, and Pete smiled despite himself. "By the way, what's your name? Or should I just say 'hey you'?"
"You may call me Askani."
He sighed. "I know what you are. I meant your name."
She gave him a level look. "That is the name I go by. When we are admitted as full sisters, we put aside our personal names. There is no longer any need for them. A few--see it differently," she said darkly, "but I am not one of those."
"You're not in the future at the moment," Pete pointed out. He gave her his best charming smile. "Call me old-fashioned, ducks, but I'd like to know the name of the woman who saved my life."
She muttered something under her breath that Pete didn't catch. "We must wait for a few hours here," she finally said, and the look on her face discouraged Pete from asking for an explanation. "Then I will teleport you to the Source--" He gave her an uncomprehending look, and she sighed. "The home of the X-Men. There, we will both deliver our messages."
"Sounds good to me," he sighed. His head was pounding, and his heart ached for the little girl whose only crime had been to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then he finally processed what she said, and turned back to her quickly. "Wait, you do know he's not at the mansion--"
Above their heads, a bank of windows exploded, and Pete cursed as glass showered down on them. When he looked up, expecting to see another one of Apocalypse's minions, he immediately let loose with a whole string of profanities.
"I found you, witch!" Nate Grey screamed down at Askani, who winced and rose to her feet, obviously preparing herself to fight. "You won't get away this time!"
"Nate!" Pete yelled, appalled by the wildness in the boy's eyes. What was wrong with him? "What are you doing--"
Nate gestured almost dismissively in his direction, and Pete felt himself flying through the air for the second time that morning. This time, his landing was a great deal harder, and as he blacked out, his last thought was of Kitty.
to be continued...
[FOOTER]