"With a Christian sense of wrong and right,
We were born and raised in black and white.
One learned to pray,
One loved to fight –
We were born and raised in black and white."
"Black And White"
Brooks & Dunn
"Do ya' think I'll learn to control my temper?"
"You'd better, Rya!" I rolled over and laughed, grinning at my twin sister as she lay beside me in bed.
"But…I'm afraid, Vixi," Rya chewed her bottom lip.
"Afraid of what?" I snorted.
Rya lay silent for several minutes, her green eyes filling with tears.
"Of myself, Vixi," she finally confessed in a broken voice. "I'm afraid of myself."
* * *
"Rya! Rya! What did you do?"
Tears poured down my face and blood – my own blood – stained my skirt and legs. But despite my blood, despite my pain, despite my overwhelming sense of violation, I couldn't tear my eyes away from my sister's frail-framed figure. She gripped a large iron pipe that at was least half her size and she was covered from head to foot in splatters of gore and blood.
She turned her head, her face contorted in a snarl, her eyes dark and glazed. I screamed again, my heels scrabbling against the gravel as I pressed my back against the wall, trying desperately to get away from a half of myself that I no longer knew.
"Rya!" I shouted, watching in horror she turned toward me, the bloody pipe still clutched in her hands. "Rya! It's me! It's Vixi! Your sister!"
My pleas disintegrated into hacking sobs as my seemingly demon-possessed sister advanced on me like a huntress onto her prey. But then, suddenly, she stopped, and the pipe fell to the ground with a clang of steel on cement.
"Vixi…Vixi…?" her soft voice broke through my whimpering; chocking back sobs, I peeked through my hands and stared up at her.
She stood in front of me, her eyes normal once again, her face as familiar as it had always been. But then she glanced down at her hands, her clothes, her arms – all covered in blood that wasn't her own. And then she turned. Horror spasmed across her face as she caught sight of the broken, mangled bodies of men she had killed with her own, 14-year-old hands.
And then it was her turn to scream.
"Vixi! What did I do?"
* * *
She held me until my hysterical sobs quieted. I slowly disentangled myself from her arms and stared at Rya, searching for some kind of answer in her wise eyes.
"I don't know what happened, Rya. I…he…"
"Daddy says he was poisoned," Rya's eyes turned dark and frightened. "What did you do, Vixi?"
"I…I don't know…" I choked back a sob. "We…I…we were…making out…like normal teenagers…" I blushed under my sister's disapproving emerald gaze.
Sexuality was a fiercely suppressed urge in the McIntyre household – our parents were devote Christians and Rya and I had been taught from childhood to "save" ourselves until marriage. Making out, in any form, was greatly frowned upon.
But ever since my rape, I had been of the mindset that I had nothing left to loose. I was out to have fun – and when Joe Cooper gave me the opportunity to explore my budding sexuality, I took him up eagerly on the opportunity.
"What happened, Vixi? Just tell me…truth be told, I'm just surprised that you actually did that, since you've been really stand-offish with guys since…well…since," she stopped, words failing her.
But we were sisters and twins, I knew what she was trying to say. I just ducked my head, staring at the cream colored eyelet bedcover beneath us.
"I can't live in the past, Rya. I decided that with Joe, I'd move on. Sure…I was scared and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout what happened…three years 'go…but I wanted to put it behind me. But…" I stopped, looking back up at my sister, tears trickling out of the corner of my eyes and dripping off of the end of my nose. "When I touched him, somethin' happened. He…had his hand on my…on my…er…" I blushed again, tears and all. "When he touched my chest…he just…froze. An' then he started to convulse an'…an' then I called the ambulance. Somethin' went wrong an' I don't know what it was."
I stopped, having run out of words to say. Rya and I sat in silence for several minutes and then she broke into my thoughts.
"I guess I can assume he touched your…skin?"
"Yes."
"Well…I'm a mutant, I know. Why wouldn't you be? We're twins, after all," she turned to look at me.
I paused for a minute, turning over her words in my mind. A mutant? But…that was impossible! Or was it? She was right – we were twins, after all.
"So if I'm a mutant…"
"You're skin might be poisonous to other people," she finished my thought.
I stared at her, wide-eyed.
"But why are you able to touch me? And Mom touched me, too!"
"Maybe you can touch your family," Rya shrugged, emotionless. "Or maybe you're just poisonous to men. Puberty usually triggers mutant traits, like mine," she broke eye contact with me. "Or periods of great heightened stress or emotions. Maybe your rape triggered your mutation and you just didn't realize it until you were with Joe."
I stared at my sister in disbelief. What kind of freaks were we? I had known for years that there was something "special" about my sister and I. She had always had a temper and I had always been able to talk people into doing what I wanted. But until now, it hadn't dawned on me that there was something different about us.
A berserker and a siren. What a pair.
* * *
"…And then your parents figured out what had happened," the man sitting across from me folded his hands on his large, polished wooden desk.
"Yes," I sighed deeply, feeling a little disconcerted after opening up the deepest secrets of my mind to a man who was still next door to a stranger. "And that's when Rya an' I left home, Professor. Our father wasn't about to have two mutants under his roof."
"Sad," Professor Charles Xavier shook his head sadly. "That parents would so cruelly drive their own children away from home. But, tell me," Charles changed the subject. "What brought you here, to 'Mutant High?'"
"To tell you the truth, Professor," I smiled a shaky smile. "I read about this place on the internet while looking for a quiet, out-of-the-way place to teach. I thought it looked like a good school and decided to come check it out. Imagine my surprise when my first encounter here is a girl who can walk through walls."
Charles chuckled softly.
"That would be our charming Miss Kitty Pride," his eyes twinkled. "Just one of the many 'gifted' children at this school. I think, Miss McIntyre," he moved from behind the desk with a soft whirring of his wheelchair. "That you're going to fit in here just fine.
"But one last thing, Miss McIntyre," he eyed me closely.
"Please, call me Vixi," I interjected quickly.
"Vixi, then," Charles smiled. "Why do you call yourself a 'siren'?"
"Because," I sighed deeply, staring down at my gloved hands. "I can reel in a man with the persuasive power of my voice an' then kill him with just the touch o' a finger."
* * *
"We've been in need of a science teacher for about half a year now," Charles whirred down the hall beside, stopping just in front of large pair of double oak doors.
"I thought you were offering positions for a science teacher and an arts teacher," I frowned slightly as I opened the doors and stood aside so my guide could go in ahead of me.
"Yes," Charles nodded slowly. "Our most pressing need is for a science teacher – we've been trying to get through an entire school year without one, but it simply can't be done. The position must be filled. As for an arts teacher…that's a position I thought would be useful to add another depth and dimension to the childrens' education."
"So…that's not necessarily a position you need filled?" I couldn't help keep the disappointment from my voice.
"I take it that's the position you'd like to fill," Charles rolled into the dark, curtained room, but I could still see the smile creep into his eyes.
"Yes," I answered truthfully. "Science is my sister's forte – I'm more of a music, art, and theatrical person."
"I see," Charles sighed softly, glancing toward one of the curtains.
As if given a cue, I strayed from his side and tugged on a corner of one of the large, velvet curtains. A bright stream of light poured into the room, stinging my eyes. Despite my movement and the new-found light, I could sense that Charles' attention had moved to someone else.
"Scott? Whatever are you doing in here?"
I threw open one more curtain and then turned away from the window and the gorgeous view it showed of the mansion's backyard and the woods beyond. It took a few seconds for the spots to keep dancing in front of my adjusting eyes, but it didn't take me long to spy the tall, lean form of a man leaning petulantly against a row of counters along the far wall.
Pain…sorrow…loss… I feel those emotions stewing inside of the shadowed form that scowled at us from across the room.
At least, I think he scowled. It was hard to tell, with his opaque, reddish-black sunglasses blocking any view into his eyes.
"Who are you?" he completely ignored Charles' question and snapped on at me instead.
"Uh…um…I'm Vixiana McIntyre," I stammered, taken back by the hostility in his voice.
"Already trying to fill Jean's place, I see," Scott pushed himself off of the counter and stalked stiffly toward the center of the room, where I stood uncertainly beside Charles' wheelchair.
"Scott," Charles shook his head in quiet warning. "Jean's loss does – cannot – change the fact that this school needs a science teacher."
"LeBeau does a good job," Scott replied defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs in a defiant stance.
"Remy is…adequate," Charles sighed, fighting to suppress a slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But he lacks the skill and depth of knowledge Jean was able to offer to the students. Not to mention – I don't think we can afford another set of Bunsen burners after last week's…explosion. Let's all be glad that Bobby was in the class to cool things down, as it were."
"'Remy'?" I repeated the name in surprise. "Remy LeBeau works here?"
"Yes," Charles glanced up at me. "The name means something to you?"
"He's an old…friend…of Rya," I smiled ruefully. "I've never met him personally, but Rya told me about him. He's not the kind of person I'd expect to be subbing in a mutant high school."
"If I had my way, he'd be more than a sub," Scott snarled, unfolding his arms and stomping toward the door. "You're not needed."
My jaw dropped, completely scandalized by the man's unnecessary rudeness. I turned toward Charles, my eyes wide and searching for answers.
"I'm guessing the late science teacher was a woman," I ventured.
"Yes," he replied solemnly.
"His woman?" I jerked my head in the direction of the door.
"Yes," Charles sighed deeply and turned around. "And a red-head, my dear. Very much like you, in fact."
* * *
"Regardless of what Scott said," Charles continued as we made our way down the hall. "You are needed. Every time something blows up in that science lab, the rest of the faculty is reminded of how much Dr. Jean Gray's place needs to be filled by a professional. And how much we all still miss her."
"I'll take the job, Professor, but I'm not a professional," I shook my head regretfully.
"You say your sister is, though?" he looked at me hopefully.
I glanced to the side and bit the inside of my cheek before answering.
"Rya…is not someone you want working for you, Professor. She hangs out with…shall we say…the wrong crowd."
Perhaps he read my mind, or perhaps my words were easily understood to someone who listened carefully, but Charles knew what I meant.
"Does she work for a mutant named Magneto?"
"Yes," I tugged idly at one of my gloved fingertips.
"How unfortunate," Charles didn't know my sister, but he seemed genuinely sorry to hear that she worked on the wrong side of the fence.
"Her powers embittered her," I felt obligated to give an explanation. "She learned to control them, but as a result, she seems to have lost all capability to feel any emotion whatsoever. She felt that she couldn't contribute positively to society, so she was…" I struggled to keep back sudden tears. "She was talked into joining Magneto's group and fighting against what she felt she couldn't change."
"And you?" Charles pressed gently. "I'll tell you now, Vixi, my faculty and I work as an organized team against the likes of Magneto and other mislead mutants like your sister."
"It would be easy to be bitter," I admitted with a little shrug as we walked past a room that sounded like it opened into a gym of some sort. "But I'm too passionate a person – I can't severe my emotions from my mind, the way Rya did. I don't hate humans. I don't hate our parents for driving us out.
"I guess," I concluded. "I've just learned over the years that fighting doesn't do much good. So I pray instead."
* * *
"I don't like them, Rya," I grabbed my sister by the arm and forced her to look at me. "They don't seem right."
"It's not like you've ever approved of the company I've kept over the years, Vixi," Rya snorted. "You never even met Remy LeBeau and you still hated him."
"I didn't hate him – I don't hate anyone," I argued. "But…can you blame me for disliking a man whose interest in you ended once he got you in his bed?"
"You've got it wrong, Vixi. I lost interest in him," Rya's green eyes pierced me coldly. "Contrary to your beliefs, all men aren't players for the sake of being players – Remy was more than willing to go further with his affections. But you see, Vixi, I was the player. I got what I wanted out of Remy and moved on. Love is for the weak."
"Why are you so cold, Rya?" I demanded gently. "You weren't always like this."
"And I didn't always have control on my anger, either," Rya cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Which would you rather me be, Vixi? An emotional, warm-blooded, affectionate and deadly mutant with no control over her powers, or a cold, calculating, emotionless mutant who can control her powers from hurting herself and others?"
"I think you can have both, Rya," I whispered softly.
"No, I can't, Vixi. I want to touch people and be in relationships without killing my lovers – unlike you."
Her words cut like a knife through my fragile heart. Over the years, I had learned to control my ability to influence people through my pheromones and voice, but I had never gained control of my other strange power, especially since I didn't know what caused my skin to be so deadly.
"But why work for Magneto? Why do you have to fight and hurt humans?"
"What did they ever do to make our lives normal?" Rya snorted bitterly. "I've always been the black sheep of the family, Vixi. I accept my powers for what they are and use them to my advantage. I have no time to be a goody-two-shoes."