Title: Enchantment

Author: Angel LeeAnn

Rating: PG-13 borderline R

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.

Summary: AU: Marie is tracking down a vicious killer: Wolverine.  Yet, what happens when he catches up with her first?

WARNING: Contains strong language and – later – sexuality

Prologue

The wolves howled as the gray fog settled over the crumbling tombstones of the decaying cemetery.  The dreary weather was fitting for such a gloomy and forlorn sight.  With the brown grass immersed in murky shadows from the hollow, spiny trees it was a scene worthy to be described in the nightmarish realm of one of Edgar Allen Poe's bleak vignettes.  More so was the dark form slouched over a gravesite, his head bowed against the slashing rain and resting against the crest of a headstone.

The marker was once elegant, but the years had eroded the rock.  It was a large rectangular block with a delicately carved angel laying a top, curled up in agony.  Her face was turned downward: as though her misery had overwhelmed her and stolen her soul.

"Forgive me," moaned the desolate man, wasting away to his knees into the mud that splashed up, spraying onto the collar of his dark trench coat.  He knew his visit was a foolish one, but the urge to return had been too great.  His guilt had raged at him until he could no longer deprive the ghost that haunted him.  "I am so sorry, Marie."  The torment was harsh; and his desire to cry was denied.  He was a man without tears.  To most, he didn't even exist.

The man, his paranoia crawling in, glanced around the abandoned cemetery.  He murmured, "Someday, I will return."  In one fluid motion, he whirled his body around, swiftly standing up and marched away into the night, his coat flapping behind him.

Chapter One

Murder and Lies

Part One

The swirling red and blue lights flickered across the decaying walls of the deserted warehouse.  To most civilians it was a representation of power, but to Marie D'Ancanto they were nauseating.  She squinted against the glare as she approached the door, cursing as her arm scarped along the side as she stepped in, splinters tearing into her pale flesh.  Her stormy bluish-green eyes scanned the dimly lit room, searching for the little prick that yanked her away from her mattress at two thirty in the morning.

"Cody, this better be good."  She marched over and stood, towering over a bulky man who was crouched down fingering a pile of dirt.  His thick, downy brown hair plastered to the back of his neck, slick with sweat.  "I have better things to do than be here."

"I doubt it," he mumbled, not glancing up at the irate woman.  Instead, he withdrew a little baggie from his pocket and used his gloved finger to scoop the dirt into the plastic bag.  "If you don't like it then tough: beat it and I don't ever want to see you around a crime scene again."  He slowly got up, not even grimacing at the crackling of his bones.  "Hey, Henderson," he called to another officer, "add this to the techie's list of shit to do."

Marie huffed, her arms tightening across her modest bosom.  "What the hell would be the point?  You'll come crawling back with a court order demanding that I help out.  And then I wouldn't even be getting paid."

"You're right.  So quit your bitchin'."

Marie's eyes glazed over with hatred.  "You're such an asshole, Cody."

Cody Robbins snarled.  "Watch it, Marie.  I could have you arrested for Mutant Insubordination."

Marie clenched her teeth, loathing the man before her.  Why, if he hated her so much, did he keep her around?  Revenge, she thought bitterly.  He's never forgiven me for putting him in a damn coma.  Hell, I wish I'd killed him with that fucking kiss.  "Go to Hell."

"Watch it, you mutant bitch."

"Cody, Marie," a voice boomed from somewhere deeper in the building.  "Can't we all just pretend to get along while working?"

"Sorry, John," Cody shouted backed.  "We didn't mean to upset your Mormon ears!"  With much difficulty he tugged off his surgical gloves – they had been out of the large so he'd been forced to wear small (medium didn't seem to exist) – and he shoved them into his back pocket.  "So who is it, Marie?"

She sighed, grinding her teeth.  "You know I can't tell without seeing the body.  Now I have to be at work in less than four hours.  You can quit screwing around and tell me what the hell's going on or I'm leaving."

"Homicide."

"No shit, Sherlock."  Marie's jaw tightened.  She only worked homicide cases.  "What tipped you off?  The dead body or all the blood?"

Cody ignored her sarcasm and led her into the heart of the warehouse.  "He's like the other ones."  He nodded to a coroner who then lifted off the tarp.  "Just look at him.  Probably minding his own business when one of you attacked him."

Marie peered down at the corpse, her body running ice cold.  The lifeless body was sprawled on his stomach on the floor, seemingly painted in his own dried blood.  Marie squatted, gingerly reaching out and clasping her chilled fingers around the corpse's stiff, frigid wrist, gazing transfixed at three puncture wounds.  "How long?"

The coroner shrugged.  "It's kind of hard to tell, especially considering all the blood loss."

"How long," she snapped, flashing her razor sharp eyes at him, daring him not to answer her.

The coroner tensed up.  "My best guess would be six hours," his tone was gruff and angry.  He didn't like it when people tried to rush explanations from him: that's how mistakes happened.  "Would you like to know what he last ate, too," he questioned snidely, prying the dead man's wrist from her grasp.

Marie ignored him, slowly rising, her eyes shifting across the room in search of any clues.  She sensed Cody hovering behind her, impatient.  "If you don't back off," she whispered, her voice hissing sourly, "I'm going to have to severely hurt you."

"I dare you to try it, Marie."

Marie whirled around and raised her hands.  "You think that kiss was bad, wait until I show you just how powerful I am."

"Who is it, Marie?"

"I don't know.  The victim's been dead too long for me to get any of his memories.  I've already told you, I can't suck someone's life source once stiffness sets in.  All the cells are dead by then.  However, it looks to me as if that man had been stabbed multiple times.  There's no reason to think a mutant did it."

"He was stabbed six times.  Just like the others.  Three on the arm and three on the chest…"

"That means shit and you know it."  Marie stalked away, fuming.

Part Two

The alcohol burned like acid, tearing away down her throat and roaring bitterly into her stomach.  Marie squeezed her eyes shut, liquid seeping from the corners of her eyelids and dancing smoothly down her pasty cheeks.  Her life flashed like snapshots across her mind and she bit down on her lower lip, blood seeping from the pierced skin and caressing down her chin.  She released a quivering breath.

Marie had seen too much, but – more heartbreakingly – she had experienced too much.  How could someone brutally slaughter another?  How could the normal despise the mutants so extremely?  Why were her own parents ashamed of her?

Her phone chirped to life, startling her out of her blue musings.  She set the bottle of whiskey aside and reached for her cellular.  "Hello?"

"Miss D'Ancanto?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour."  From the sound of the man's tone it was obvious he didn't give a damn either way.  "My name's William Stryker.  We need to talk."

"About?"

"The murders."

Marie sat up, infuriated.  "Listen, Mr. Stryker, I don't give interviews.  As far as I'm concerned the press isn't good for anything except spreading classified material and gory details.  Not to mention you're vultures who enjoy feeding off the suffering of victims!"

Stryker chuckled.  "I like your spunk, Miss D'Ancanto.  I'm not a reporter."

"Then what the bloody hell do you want?"

"To speak to you.  I know the murderer."

Part Three

Marie pulled up in front of the city park, cutting off the engine to her Jeep Wrangler.  "This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself as she stepped out of the vehicle and trekked over to the park bench beside the Veterans' Memorial.  "I must be crazy," she reasoned as she plopped down on the damp bench.

A hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped back to her feet, whirling around.  An older man smiled tightly at her, the streetlight reflecting off his pallid skin.  "If you ever do that again," Marie warned, "I won't stop to kill you."

Stryker ignored her, instead came around the bench and took a seat.  "I know who you are, Marie.  Or, more accurately, what you are."

"You know nothing," she scoffed, eager to just walk away.

"I know more than you think."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she denied.  "And if you dragged me out here for this then I'm leaving."

"I advise against that."

Marie froze then, tensed up.  "Why did you contact me?  You told me you knew who the murderer was."

"I do.  He's a mutant.  His codename is Wolverine.  He's a vicious killer, as I'm sure you're well aware of.  Just look at his victims.  Now we can't have a killer like him on the loose.  He needs to be brought in."

"How do you know this?"

"I used to work with him."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I want him alive.  Those cops you work for, they want him dead."

"Why should I help you?  If he's as dangerous as you say then maybe it would be best if he were killed."

"No!  No, he's too valuable.  If you work for me I'll make it worthwhile."

Marie knitted her eyebrows in suspicion.  "Why the hell would I want to?"

"I'll see to it that your name is taken off the Mutant Registration.  You'll be free.  And have power.  I'll put you in command of the recovery mission.  The only person you'll have to take orders from is me."

"And once he's caught?"

Stryker's smile was malicious.  "You can choose to stay with us.  Or…you can return to this…marvelous life."  The word "marvelous" was laced with sarcasm.

Marie bit her lower lip, peering down at her feet before staring him dead in the eye.  "Deal."

End Chapter One