Part One
Et rien ne demeurera impuni*
The rosary beads passed his fingers restlessly as he walked down the church aisle. It was a quiet small church, with a small spire and a dove-white paint that had seen better days.
The cross glowed softly before him, lit by shy candles whose lights danced now and then as sudden gush of air entered the church. That made him look around nervously. When he was sure he was quite alone he sat down on one of those chairs.
He was on the third mystery when a deep voice interrupted him. "Nice setting for meeting an old enemy, friend."
He was startled by the voice that he unconsciously almost tore his rosary beads apart. "You! What do you want with me?"
"We had an agreement, didn't we, Jack?" said the man whose face was covered by the hat he wore. But his height was evident. He towered over the older man.
"Don't call me by that name. I'm not your servant anymore."
"Ah… but that was long ago, isn't it, Jack?" The voice was an audible sneer. "You see, London 1888 was so long ago, that I cannot remember what we did there. Care to refresh me?"
"I am not your servant! Not anymore. I don't work for anyone anymore. Especially you."
"But don't you want to know what I know? That's why I contacted you in the first place."
"I learnt from the past. My first contact with you had been nothing but an ultimate curse on my entire existence."
"Curse, my dear Jack? I thought immortality was everything you wanted. Now you begin to have second thoughts?"
"But never like this!"
"Ah… I never said this condition of yours had no payment. Nothing's free, remember?"
"Devil!"
The tall man laughed gleefully, almost mockingly. It reverberated in the church eerily. "I've been called worse, Jack. Believe me."
The older man looked around nervously before he pulled the taller man's collar. "What do you want? Why have you called me?"
"I have need of you, Jack. For some minor works. Very minor."
The older man's eyes narrowed. "I refuse to be associated with any of your works. No matter how minor or major." His hold on the taller man's collar tightened. For someone so old the strength seemed incredible.
But the taller man merely laughed. "Who says anything about your compliance?"
For one moment the older man didn't understand the extent of his words. Then his eyes widened. He quickly released the taller man's collar and ran out of the church. His laughter followed him outside.
Outside the older man looked nervously left and right, and then dashed into an alley that he knew would be an exit to a busier street. As he was about to reach the end, however someone grabbed him by the back of his neck and stopped him. What he saw he could never tell because seconds later his neck was snapped into two, the sound like a fragile twig being stepped upon.
Two minutes later the older man stepped outside, lighting a cigar and
breathed it in deeply as he reached down his pockets. His hands came out with
two quarters. Nodding slightly he headed towards a phone booth, massaging the
back of his neck now and then. Looking for the telephone guide book he thumbed
the dog-eared pages until he came to the letter X. A moment later he picked up
the receiver and started dialing.
Emma Frost was on the phone the moment it rang. "Oh, Hank, please wait for a moment. There's an incoming call."
"What? Who could that be in such an ungodly hour?" Hank glanced at his table clock; it said 11:59 pm.
"I don't know. You scientists have so many hours to spare on small things like a specimen or something, but never a day to spare with the living. I bet if those things could talk they'd say please go away please go away."
"All right Emma. I'm on my way upstairs anyway."
"Good for you." Then she pressed a few buttons to receive the incoming call. "Who is this?"
The voice at the other end of the line was talking perfect English, if not peppered with a bit accent Emma thought somewhere from the Europe. "Is this the School for Gifted Youngsters?"
"Yes sir. Although I should say this is rather an ungodly hour for you to call in. Can you call again - "
"I need to speak with one of your students. Remy LeBeau?"
"Who is this?"
A pause. "His friend, Harry."
Hesitantly she said, "Please wait. I'll connect you to his room."
Remy was playing bridge with Piotr, Jubilee and Rogue in his room when the phone rang. "Could be Hank again," Rogue said. As she was the nearest to the phone she lifted the receiver. "Hello?"
"Remy?" said the person at the other end.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Remy? Someone wants to talk to you."
Remy's left eyebrow lifted up. "Who is it?"
"I dunno. Some guy." She handed over the phone to him as the rest prepared for another round of bridge.
"Remy's speaking."
"I found you." It was no more than a whisper, but pregnant with hatred and evil that Remy found his knees began to buckle.
"Who is dis?" he asked, trying to steady his voice.
Suddenly the voice shifted into another accent that was familiar to Remy. "I found you. Now you must find me before I find you again."
"Non… it cannot be…"
The voice over laughed softly, mockingly. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? But it's me. And if you can't find me, Remy, I'll find you next. Because, et rien ne demeurera impuni."
As he laughed Remy slammed down the receiver. The three turned to him. "What's the matter, honey?" Rogue asked, then she noticed Remy's face was pale and his lips were close to bloodless. "Remy?"
"Tovarisch, you look like you've just seen a ghost," Piotr remarked as he patted him on the shoulder. "You all right?"
"Non, Gambit's not all right…" was all he could say.
It cannot be, he thought. He's dead! He's dead!
Dead!
*French: Nothing unavenged remains
To Be Continued...