Chapter 6
Niamh
Layla frowned at the flyer, then the suspiciously shifty alleyway she was supposed to go down. She was about to ask for help from the taxi driver, but when she turned around, all she saw was his tail lights. Why not add some cartoon dust clouds to hammer it in.
'Jeez.' she huffed. The dimly lit alley was grimy and smelt of wet rubbish. Graffiti paint peeled off the walls, layers upon layers of art and tags unable to take its own weight. It looked like a classic city danger zone and something was making her feel wrong. A vibration simulating the spinning feeling one would get before throwing up.
She shouldn't be here. She could just go back to the school, give this to the X-men and just sleep. Sleep sounded much better than following a whim by herself through a very dangerous city she knew nothing about.
'You alright?'
A screech erupting out of her as Layla jumped out of her skin. She clutched the area over her heart and spun around, someone now in the alley exit.
When had she walked into it? The door to the meeting place was now right next to her…
The shadow turned out to be a middle aged woman, the type who seemed to be perpetually taking their kids to some sort of activity in-between yoga classes. Her hair was in a high ponytail, fly-aways everywhere and a tired yet cheerful smile just about shaped her face.
'Y-yes.' Layla patted the area above her heart, remaining it of its normal pace to calm down. 'I'm here for the…' she held up the flyer and the sports mom brightened.
'Oh! You're new.' Without warning, she hooked Layla's arm through her own and marched them both to the entrance. 'I'm Angie Fletcher. What's yours?'
'L-' Wait. Names were powerful things. If this were anywhere linked to the murder, she needed to be extremely careful. 'Lily... Cromwell.'
'You don't sound too certain of that. Or are you just nervous?' She teased as she knocked on the door of the community centre. Yet the humour didn't reach her eyes.
'No! I just- I haven't been around people in a while.' Layla lied. She noticed on the brickwork at the sides of the door were symbols drawn in chalk. Roughly translated, all who enter swear to speak not of the treasures within.
A contract. A rather sloppy contract with several loopholes.
'Well we're all here to find people like us.' It was the first thing Angie said that Layla believed. A downcast shadow breaking through her facade before she quickly reconstructed it.
The door opened and Angie half dragged Layla through. She felt the sealing of the promise on her skin. One she now couldn't break.
They strode down a dark hallway, one that felt too long for the building they had walked into. Angie kept talking to her, trying to get information. But Layla only had to ask questions back to avoid answering. She felt the pinprick of magic into her arm, a small tadpole of Angie's influence burying into her. She wanted to know.
They entered into the main building and Layla's eyes widened. It was… beautiful.
A circular room with high ceilings, three twining tree-esque pillars and gorgeous stained glass windows. Stone tables held trays of soil and trowels ready for planting something. It was a monument to nature. In the middle were some chairs, placed in rows of circles with several people of all ages already sitting and chatting. A small bell chimed and everybody rushed to get a seat. Either next to or across from one seat in particular that seemed rather like a throne. Which left Layla and Angie rather out of the way, much to her relief.
Another chime and everyone looked towards the front of the hall.
An ethereal woman, dressed in an elegant gown of white, gilded into view. Her brown hair transformed before Layla's very eyes into long blonde locks. They fell in beautiful waves and weaved with crystal drops imitating the glisten of morning dew. Her piercing green eyes scanned the room, laying upon everyone who'd arrived. About 200 people.
Including Layla.
'Welcome. Fáilte a bheith agat roimh.' The words she spoke slipped so smoothly from her lips, it felt so peaceful. The voice of her home.
Everyone repeated the phrase back to the woman.
'Today we have something very special.' She summoned a staff of bleached wood, carved elegantly to hold a disk of glass, before sitting regally on her throne.
Layla blinked, fixing her eyes onto the ground. The cult leader may have appeared welcoming, but her aura stretched out, sticking to each life source like a leech. Layla shivered in disgust, hoping no one noticed as she could do nothing but let her foreign magic ooze over her. Angie had thankfully released her grip off of her, but there was no way to get rid of her needle of magic without being clearly noticed.
Their leader… It was like fighting against the tide. The woman drew you in with every fibre of her being. And Layla knew from the way her magic shrivelled under her mere presence that this being would have no problem smashing her against the rocks.
As soon as she got out of here, she was grabbing Kurt and dragging him to this place if she had to. He was the only one she could possibly tell without getting into massive amounts of trouble and he trusted her. She focused on the memory of his touch on her wrist, how gentle he'd been and the husk to his voice as he asked her what to do.
She desperately wanted to tell him. But her family had kept this sort of magic secret for generations! Away from the Sorcerers, Witches and others who would exploit its power.
Angie nudged her in the side and she saw that everyone was now staring.
The leader's eyes fixated upon her. Angie's needle of magic suddenly became 20 times stronger. It shot up her arm, aiming for her heart. Layla gripped her shoulder, no longer trying to push it out but push it back before it pierced her heart.
The leader's eyes narrowed. 'Who are you?'
She kept the pain and fear under a glaze of nerves.
Angie, of all people, stepped in. She may be part of this but she wasn't cold hearted. 'Lily Cromwell. I'm sorry Niamh. She's not used to so many people.'
"She is of course welcome. But you need to be open, Lily,' the needle slowly started to pierce through, 'if you want to change.'
Layla could barely breathe, let alone think of where she'd heard that name before. Oh shit. Leave. Find anything! 'Angie,' she swallowed, clinging to her seat, 'I'm gonna be sick.'
Suddenly, another person came into the room with a bang.
Niamh's attention left Layla and the squeezing pressure disapperated into the air.
A teenager with a half shaved head melted into view, slowly becoming visible as a spell dripped off her. She clutched a bag to her chest and wide, inhuman eyes glanced at all of the people who regarded her openly hostile sneers.
A mutant.
'I have the seeds.' She held out the bag, as if desperately seeking validation from her seniors.
Everyone turned to Niamh. Waiting for judgement.
She raised her hand and smiled. Benevolent.
The teen approached shyly. Obviously just as infatuated with Niamh as everyone else in the room, however it was like a donkey kick to the stomach for Layla to witness. A child! How DARE she use the sacred arts to manipulate a child!
Whatever overcame her overrode her self-preservation. Her fear. The horror at her family's practice perverted and the despair she'd taken from Mrs Sadiq twisted into white hot rage. She was mid-way out of her chair as the teen handed over the bag when-
An explosion of smoke rained down above the teen, snatching the bag out of her hands and landing in front of the stained glass. He rose, checking the bag with unearthly glowing yellow eyes.
Before he could even turn around, the teen realised who it was. She disappeared in a blink and the doorway opened and slammed at the back of the hall by itself.
People started to talk, panic, as they rose out of their seats and debated what to do. Some screamed horrid slurs at him, others looked ready to bolt for the door. Niamh rose and turned to face her thief, cold and calculating.
'I'm going to have to take these I'm afraid.' There was not a hint of apology in Mr Wagner's tone. 'You must be the gardener.' It was more of a statement than a question coming from Nightcrawler. His sombre expression not showing a hint of the playful attitude he'd displayed earlier.
Niamh brought down her staff and peered through the crystal at him. 'We do not have to disagree, elf.'
'Oh?' He didn't move from his fighting stance. Just titled his head to the side and slipped into a lopsided smirk. 'So you'll come with me quietly?' Several Bamfs appeared in different places around the room, one dropping a set of swords into his hands.
Niamh paused as if searching for something though the glass before a slow, wicked grin stretched her angelic features. 'Not quite.'
One of the pillars snapped out of place, twisting and breaking itself to spear the place he once stood.
People started screaming and running for the exits. Angie grabbed Layla's arm and began to drag her towards the doorway. It was so forceful that Layla had to physically rip herself away from the woman. She was about to say something, when part of the ceiling crumbled above them.
'Move!' Layla screamed and shoved her through the door, reeling back just in time before the slab hit the ground.
...
Nightcrawler could see that this person was not afraid, neither of him or the fight. She exuded confidence as she warped the world around them, watching and waiting with unblinking glassy eyes.
Smaller blood trees snapped and cracked to point towards his new position as the sulfuric smoke disappeared from around him, waiting for instruction from their mistress. Three in total. He just needed to thin out the monsters and disarm her.
At her feet, a Bamf lay on the floor, rolling around and gurgling. The same sort of sickly magic skittered across his skin. It emanated from her, and now the Bamfs.
Something gripped his ankles. He barely had time to look, let alone escape before a branch swung for his head.
He bent backwards, planting his hands on the ground behind him. The wooden limb skimmed above and took out a part of the tree on the other side of the room. He went to move, but vines had slunk out from the cracks in the floor, twining and pinning his hands as well.
BANG.
The second branch didn't miss. Slamming him down into the floor. Neither did the third, coming in from the side and shooting him across the room to meet the hard slab of a stone table.
His hip met the hard slab of the stone table with a distressing crunch. There was little he could do other than stop himself from by stabbing his sword into the table. He pushed himself back up. The throbbing ache in his lower spine and ribs, he could worry about later. He ripped some of the snapped vines off his wrists with his teeth.
The bag was at the witch's feet, along with one of his swords. Several other bamfs now littered the ground as well, in pain or sick. The cult leader remained untouched. Her fixed gaze, delighted.
The walls, floor and ceiling had turned green, monstrous vines blotted out the sun, leaving only a few areas of light seeping through. Her magic swallowed the room whole, constricting it around him slowly. The waves of chanting from her disciples fuelling the chaos she delighted in, no matter if that the building was collapsing around them. She would kill them too if she had to.
Enough.
In a flurry of chain teleportations, he slashed at the trees, staying fixed in the air.
With the blood trees screeching and Niamh readying her staff, he landed on the trunk of one of the monsters. Wrapping his arms around it, he focused and teleported again.
The screaming stopped.
Chanting silenced.
Where the first tree once stood, all that remained was a clean chop at its roots.
The trunk groaned as it toppled to the ground. Dead. The thud shaking the ground on the other side of the room.
He panted, turning back to the true threat. He felt dizzy from the effort and he must have looked it too. Everything felt sluggish. The air was harder to breathe. But he dragged himself back into a fighting stance.
The golden haired witch couldn't have been more happier, excitement lighting her up until she was literally glowing. 'Impressive!' she cheered. Just as quickly as the joy had appeared, it flattened, 'but I don't think you can do that again, can you.'
Kurt grinned, pointing his sword at her. 'I don't need to.'
He teleported again, slashing and breaking the branches before spotting his chance. The toothy maw of the second tree opened in pain and he disappeared. Reappearing in front of it and plunging his sword deep into the flesh inside. One twist and it collapsed.
Again he turned to the witch, flicking his sword and spraying the blood across the floor. She had yet to move and it was starting to unnerve him. The way many villains looked at him. Fear was one frightening thing. But desire was another, far more sickening reaction he found in her expression. Every time it made his heart seize.
The bamfs at her feet started to move, rising and shaking their heads. Good, they could finally…
When they focused on him, something felt wrong. They turned away from Niamh and prowled closer, chittering and growling.
Before he could even recognise what had happened, they pounced. Several bodies thudding into his chest and teleporting him around the room in a mad haze of smoke and wrestling control. It was a spiral Kurt couldn't escape until he landed hard on the ground.
The witch's staff slammed down onto his wrist. He hissed in pain as something cracked, forcing him to release his sword.
Another hand buried into his hair and yanked him up with far more strength than the woman should have possessed. A searing pinprick shot into his head, making the world swim before she let go. He would have slumped to the ground, if not for the remaining blood tree snagging and pinning him into the overgrown far wall.
…
Layla scrambled back into the hall and assessed the situation. Niamh was distracted by Kurt for now. The bag no longer in his grasp as he tried to dodge and teleport out of the way of the pillars Niamh was directing. Stupid, of course she didn't plant just one blood tree to control Layla!
Shadows slid over the window, thick vines slowly blocking out the light and small sprouts of green crept through the cracks in the walls. They entangled any bamf close enough or on the wall and their angry chitters and gnawing echoed round the room.
The bag lay, underneath one of the stone tables as the fight raged. It was very close to Niamh, but if she were quiet enough just maybe...
Layla snuck behind the spectators that stayed, chanting and pouring all they had into their beloved in disturbing, co-dependent devotion. Even when the building fell apart, they didn't falter. Enjoying as Niamh found cracks in Kurt's defence and swatting him across the room. The green laces of ivy now assured if he walked on the walls or ceiling, he would be tangled until the blood tree pillars hit him again.
She got on all fours and began to crawl under the tables, holding her breath as if that was going to help. Holding perfectly still as the roots of blood trees passed on by to try and take another shot at the X-man.
She couldn't see, only hear the commotion and devastation as she focused on her goal. At some point something smacked above her and she froze. Only moving when the ground shook with an almighty thud and terrified her back into action.
It was mere inches away. Her fingers brushed the strap. Abruptly the table in front of her was ripped up from above her. She squeaked, covering her head and praying she wasn't seen. The bag skirted into the centre of the room, blowing any opportunity of staying hidden.
She watched as Kurt was pinned against the wall. Niamh approached, not a hair out of place.
It was bad. His head slouched forward, no weapons and completely tied down. Niamh took him by the jaw and forced him to look up as her image changed into someone else. Another blonde woman, curvier and more athletic with gorgeous blue eyes.
Surprise and complete devastation overtook his expression. He muttered something inaudible and tried to flinch away from her touch. The once confident X-man, consumed by horror or sadness or guilt.
Dagda, she had to do something! Her heart was pounding, arms and legs wobbling like jelly. Oh god, she was a coward.
Scrambling, Layla felt for Angie's influence needle, still inside her and focused on changing it. Wrapping it in the threads of her life, memories, belief. Everything that made her, Layla. Transforming it and coiling her magic, getting ready to throw.
Like hell she would let this soith take anyone else.
…
'Amanda?' Crushing guilt and hope twisted together as he stared at her face. Just like how he remembered her.
Something moved within him. That small hope she'd returned rose to the surface. It consumed his thoughts almost entirely as her hand stroked his cheek. And even though he felt wrong, it didn't matter. The same thought overtook his mind, smothering the doubts. She was back. She was back!
'Do you love me?' She tilted her head to the side, slowly leaning in. Her lips were so close, but she waited for an answer.
He wanted to answer. But his own mouth kept closed. His body rebelling against his soul as he tried to tell her yes. Why had she not freed him? He wanted nothing more in this world to wrap his arms around her and never let go. He would protect her.
'Will you fight for me?'
Again his mouth wouldn't let him speak. Something was piercing him, rooting him down and grounding him to reality. More things began to swim into focus. Something red rushed behind Amanda.
A broken tree-branch flew through the air, clocking the vision right in the back of the head.
'An bhfuil tú éadóchasach ar fhear nó nach sásaíonn d'fhear tú? Bain do lámha as mo chara!'
Layla?!
He had no idea what she'd just said, but white hot fury erupted from Amanda. No. The witch. The illusion shattered as she turned away from him, to focus on the teacher who looked absolutely terrified. Emotions that were clearly not his own lashed about deep inside him. Terror. Fury. It was like his body contained three different people.
He felt violated. Sick. He bared his fangs and hissed at the witch but she had new prey locked in her sight.
No!
One of the Bamfs managed to wiggle free, teleporting and grabbing a sword off the ground. It cut one of his arms free and he managed to hack himself out. His body ached, begging to just collapse for a while as one massive bruise, but in one last heave, he teleported again.
She'd been surrounded, backing up into his chest, clutching something for dear life. He hooked an arm around her waist and managed a smile when her panicked wide eyes snapped to him. A ghost of relief flickered across her doe features.
There was some smug satisfaction when he shot one last glare at Niamh. Her cold confidence cracking as true wild rage twisted her face. He would find her, before anyone else got hurt. This he promised as the teleportation smoke exploded around them.
...
Layla felt Kurt's legs buckle as they landed. She barely had time to brace before his full weight collapsed onto her. It was as if the surrounding pressure had vanished into nothing. They were able to breathe again. Think clearly again. And the tension that kept their muscles from giving out loosened.
They toppled over into the wet sand, Layla just about managing to stay on her knees as she rolled him over onto his back. She took him by the shoulder and shook. 'Nightcrawler? Kurt? Dagda please.' She glanced around, hoping for help. Only finding an isolated, dark, dirty beach. She pleaded, shaking his shoulders. 'Wake up!'