Rotting flesh enticed insects and vultures and wild boars. At least, it was supposed to. Had someone witnessed the event they would have likely thought it to be a scene from a horror movie; a middle-aged woman consuming the remains of what seemed to be a teenaged male. He was recently deceased yet whatever—or whoever—had reached the body ripped virtually everything to shreds. A lump of brain tissue here, several crushed bones there; the back wall of the alleyway was splattered with blood and the woman wasted no time in lunging at it. If it was possible to turn away from the mess of flesh, entrails, and bones, one would notice the woman's eyes and skin. Both poorly concealed the underlying veins and both possessed a purplish tinge to them. This was the first sign that identified her as being something far from human. The second were the pointed ears, light fur, and extracted claws on her hands. The surrounding neighborhood was a haven for mutants who wished to spend their lives free from judgement and persecution. Therefore, they stayed indoors where their mutations remained hidden from society. This woman, however, didn't show any signs of worry or anxiety. So when she died the next morning several feet away from the body, no one was surprised.
Emma was unsure of her decision. Charles had displayed great enthusiasm in bringing over the girls and, as a fellow telepath, she understood the possible discoveries. None of the residents were like the Stepford sisters so studying a gestalt mind was sure to add appreciated contributions to the fields of psychology and mutations. What bothered the blonde, however, was their past connection; the apparent "disappearance" of Sophie hadn't bided well with the others. The phone calls were evidence of that. Still, backing out now meant Charles and Scott would only investigate the matter further. It was better to study them alone and then have them be on their way before anything was disclosed. Emma was well aware that the sisters didn't know of what had exactly happened to Sophie, only that she had been shot to death. Even she didn't know how the girl had actually died. His involvement was subtle at first, but when he wished to revel in his accomplishment, the consequences began to show themselves. What else was she supposed to do? Let the Stepford sisters learn of who had ordered the attack? The available options that benefited her were slim and therefore she was forced to resort to a more physical cover story.
They were to land sometime tomorrow and Bobby had offered to receive them. Everyone had agreed, which meant Emma faked a smile and nodded. If Charles were dead the situation would have been much different and a simple memory wipe would have solved any problems. Since she couldn't just walk into his office and kill the bastard—St. John's maimed body was proof of that—Emma wished that luck decided to pity her. A knock on her door startled her and she released her grip on the duvet cover.
"Who is it?"
"Piotr. May I come in?"
She breathed a sigh of relief and rose to her feet. "Of course, come in." After a pause of half a second, she extended her thoughts to his. "Is anyone else with you."
The answer was obvious when the door swung open and the six-foot Russian strode in, quietly closing the door behind him. Emma made her way towards the man and swung her arms around his strong neck, bringing his head down until their lips met. His kisses, like his heart, were soft, but they eventually displayed the fiery passion hidden beneath. These were no different.
She finally pulled away, her eyes lingering on the door. He had locked it. "No one saw you, did they?"
Piotr sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I was completely silent. Like a cat." He grinned and leaned in once again but was stopped by his lover. "What is it, my dear?"
"This…this has to end. Now. We both know that our respective partners will discover the truth, whether it be in a week or a month. Then what will we do? You and I both know how furious Scott had been when Jean first professed her love for Logan. Just imagine what he'd do to us."
Piotr raised a brow and crossed his arms. "Us? Why us? For all he knows, you manipulated me into sleeping with you." He continued to stare down at Emma while her expression changed to one of shock. "After all, didn't you do the same with him?" He tapped on her left temple before moving towards the door. "You telepaths really should be careful of who you play with. Some of us actually aren't scared of biting you in the ass."
The door shut with a slam and Emma clenched her fists. He would pay for this. They all would. Perhaps she couldn't have done anything about Jean, but she would definitely take care of Piotr. For now, her attention had to be focused solely on the Stepford sisters. She glanced at her nightstand; how many bullets were left?