8.

"Wait, what did you say?" I asked. I took a deep breath, trying to grasp what he just said. That surreal feeling was sneaking up on me again. I knew that Vega could have died. Sakura had enough power to destroy him and a whole legion of vampires like him, but I just didn't believe he would die. The thought of him being dead just didn't feel right. I leaned against the wall of the elevator.

"Vega didn't return. Nobody's seen him, and I was wondering if you had." Jean-Paul reiterated, furrowing his eyebrows.

I shook my head once slowly. "I haven't seen him since early this morning, and I didn't dust him if that's what you think." I said, staring at him. Jean-Paul looked down at his shoes. He thought I killed Vega. That was a logical thought. I did kill vampires after all, but I had nothing to do with Vega's disappearance.

"I didn't say you did," he replied. I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to say it. His implications spoke volumes. "Can you tell me what's happened to him? Is he all right?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't know what to tell him right then. I didn't know if Vega was all right or not. "I haven't eaten dinner yet. Do you want to join me? I'll tell you what I know there." I said. I would tell him what happened between Vega and Sakura, and then, he could base his conclusion on what I told him.

Jean-Paul smiled despite the importance of the situation. "Dinner, eh? I knew you couldn't resist me." He said with a "you-know-I'm-sexy" tone of voice. He had a big, lopsided grin plastered to his face.

"You wish." I chuckled despite myself. I wasn't going to let the fact that Vega might be dead depress me. I mean, what's one dead vampire? I had more important things to focus on, yet I still had that feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was just an upset stomach. Yeah, that's what I would let myself believe. It was more plausible than believing that I might be worried about Vega.

"When I make wishes about you, I wish for more than just dinner." He said with a wink, holding the elevator door open. He allowed me to exit first. Can't say he didn't have manners.

"You believe flirting will get you everywhere, don't you?" I asked as we walked out of the building. We stood on the empty sidewalk that was alive with people scurrying here and there.

"Most people like it."

"I'm not most people." I quipped.

He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "So, where are we going?" He asked.

I wanted to say somewhere that doesn't serve blood, but I bit back the statement. "Well, I usually go to the Cameli's, but I don't think we should be seen there together."

"Ashamed?" He asked, voice betraying offense.

"No, but we would have to keep up this act, and I just don't know if I have the energy." I answered, and he frowned at me. I definitely hurt his feelings. A sensitive vampire. Before tonight, I don't think I would have believed they existed. I let out a resigned sigh. "Let's go."

"Where to?" He asked.

"Cameli's." I was always the humanitarian even if he was part of the group I didn't particularly like. I tried to tell myself this about the principal of the matter and not the fact I felt sorry for him. Blame it on that compassionate side I can't seem to shake.

His expression brightened considerably, and he beamed at me. It was one those smiles that could melt butter, sensuous and alluring. I believed the only way a woman (or a man for that fact) would be able to resist him would be through divine intervention. But for all his seductiveness, there was still something about him that screamed innocent. I think that's where the appeal came in. He appealed to the sexual side of people, but he also appealed to that nurturer side as well. That was a dangerous combination.

We walked to Cameli's since it wasn't that far from the office. It was my favorite vegetarian restaurant, and I usually ate there when I was working or when I needed to get away. I remember bringing Logan to the restaurant once, and he'd been miffed to find out they didn't serve meat. Needless to say, he's never been back. I couldn't help smiling at the memory.

We walked into the restaurant where I saw a waitress named Judy, a forty-ish waitress who reminded me of an aged beauty. She smiled when she saw me standing at the door. "Hello, Ororo," she said, and then looked at Jean-Paul. Here we go again. "Who's your friend?"

"Hello, Judy. This is Jean-Paul." I said dryly. Jean-Paul turned up the smile, and Judy giggled. I suppressed a groan. I just wanted to get to a table without being attacked by a horny mob. Is that too much to ask for? I asked for a table in the back.

Judy led us through what seemed like a gauntlet of people, and Jean-Paul reveled in it. There was a smile here, a "hello, beautiful" there with a couple of winks scattered. If Jean-Paul could not flirt for five minutes, I might consider that a small miracle. I ordered my Portobello Fresno, and Jean-Paul ordered water (as if he was going to actually drink it), telling Judy he was a meat and potatoes man. I snorted when he said that. He was more like a plasma and hemoglobin man.

"What happened to Vega?" He asked once Judy brought us our beverages and left the table. He actually took a sip of the water. I raised an eyebrow at him. He must have felt the need to go through the motions.

Judy came to the table again, sitting a plate before me. I thanked her and took a bite of my food. Jean-Paul didn't rush me, and I was almost tempted to ask him if he wanted some. He might have seen that as spiteful though, and truthfully, it might have been a little spiteful on my part. "He was fighting with Sakura when I last saw him." I said grimly, and then proceeded to give him the abridged version of what happened earlier.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "She could kill him." He said. He acted as if he were telling me something I didn't already know. I know she could kill him, and it didn't seem right that she—a psychotic vampire on a power trip—harbored all that power. "It's more likely she punished him, though."

"And what does she consider just punishment?" I asked. I didn't know if I really wanted to know. Sakura seemed like the type who would go for the goriest type of punishment she could think of.

"She usually nails a cross to their coffins, trapping them inside. She's the reason Triage is so crazy. She trapped him in his coffin for four months." He paused to take another sip of the water. The punishment wasn't as gory as I expected, but it was still bad enough. "Do you know how insane that could make a person?" He said bleakly. No, I didn't, but the thought of Vega going crazy was scary. The thought of him being enclosed in that tight coffin was even scarier.

I opened the folder with the file with the details of the murders; I needed to do something to get my mind off what Jean-Paul just said. Looking for potential clues wasn't a bad way to distract myself. "What are you going to do?" Jean-Paul asked. I wondered if he was asking me what was I going to do about Vega or what was I going to do about these murders. I chose the latter over the former. He should know there's nothing I can do for Vega even if I wanted to.

"I'm going to talk to someone close to the first victim." I said, looking over a file for a Jennifer Portman. She was the girlfriend of a now deceased vampire named Edward Hansen.

"Maybe I can help." Jean-Paul said as he tried to look at my files. I wanted to tell him not to worry his pretty, little head over these murders, but he might be useful.

"Do you know a Jennifer Portman?" I asked.

"Yeah, she was Edward's property before he was killed," he said without much show of emotion. She was someone's property. I didn't even want to ask what he meant by "property". What a nice way to regard someone. Suddenly the term "human servant" didn't seem so insulting. At least, I wasn't being treated like real estate. "Is that where we're going?"

"We're not going anywhere, but I am going to Jennifer Portman's."

"Then, I'm going too." He said with a childlike stubbornness.

"Do you even know how to fight or defend yourself in any way? I know you could probably bench press a car, but… I've seen you…" I couldn't finish. Jean-Paul was a victim. He was used to violence, but only as another's prey. Then again, the most he probably had to worry about right now was being molested by every person in the city.

He didn't meet my eyes, but I knew he knew what I was thinking without trying to get in my head. "I can handle myself," he said quietly. Somehow, I doubted that. "But how do you even expect to get Jennifer to talk to you of all people."

He had a point. "If you're going to come with me, let me make one thing clear. I know how to do my job, and I do it well. If I'm threatened, don't try to charge in and save me." I knew I was being a little abrasive, but the last thing I needed was for him to jeopardize this case. Jean-Paul nodded slowly.

We sat in silence for a moment. I stared idly toward the door, thinking. My jaw clenched when I saw a familiar figure walking our way. Oh, it was not. Yes, it was him. I cannot believe of all the places he could've brought his new girlfriend he chose this restaurant. I looked at Jean-Paul, and he stared back at me quizzically. I dropped my eyes and quickly became interested in my food. Please, let him just walk by. Please, don't let him see me. Goddess, just let me get out of here without embarrassing myself.

"Hello, Ororo," I heard a deep voice say, and I reluctantly looked up into the face of the man I thought I wanted to spend forever with. He was still as handsome as I remembered him. He smiled at me captivatingly, and I felt my legs part involuntarily. His smile always had that effect on me. You'd think I'd be over that by now. I mentally willed him away, but it didn't work. It's times like these when I wished I had telekinetic powers. Wouldn't it be funny if you could make the dessert tray ram into your ex? Well, I thought it was funny.

I smiled weakly at him. "Hello, Forge. How are you?" I asked. I hadn't really meant to ask him that. It's just one of those formalities you say out of habit rather than because you're really interested. I was happier thinking he was miserable without me, but judging from the busty redhead that was clinging to his arm, he wasn't. Son of a bitch. Excuse my bitterness. I think people see me as so untouchable they forget that, yes, I do have feelings. Yes, I was capable of being jealous, and right now, I was smoldering in it.

The air was getting extremely thick in the restaurant. I needed to get out of here.

"I'm fine," he answered. "How about yourself? Still putting your life on hold for everyone else?" He asked. I didn't think he meant any intentional malice, but just the same, it made me wince.

Forge didn't fall in the "power hungry" category or the "wants to get in my goody basket" category. He was in a category of his own. He was intelligent, caring, dedicated, passionate – everything I wanted in a man. He knew exactly what I needed after a long day whether it was a massage or something more. Like all good things, that relationship came to an end.

He felt he had to compete with too many of my "other priorities", and truthfully, he probably had. I could never make him the main focus in my life. Too many people needed me, and I would've felt selfish dedicating most of my time to him. He felt that he wasn't as important in my life as I was in his. I became less of a woman more of a sacrosanct deity in his eyes. I hated that, but I could do nothing to change that now.

In retrospect, he might be the reason I was scared to get into another relationship. I blamed it on all the worthless men in the today's world, but maybe, I didn't really want to work at a relationship. I hated to love and lose. I didn't know how to love with only half my heart. I tried to love with all my heart. "I'm fine as well, and yes, I'm still dedicating my life to others."

"Always the workaholic. When are you going to take some time out for yourself?" He asked, and I shifted in my seat awkwardly. This was uncomfortable. He had to know that this was making me feel strange. I mean, how could he not know? I didn't want to talk about me anymore. He didn't see me asking him any infuriating questions.

I heard Jean-Paul clear his throat, and I was actually grateful for his presence. "Oh, where are my manners? Forge, this is my friend, Jean-Paul." I said casually. Jean-Paul stuck out a hand. Forge eyed him as if he were seeing him for the first time. I could see a cool indifference flicker in his eyes for a moment, and then he shook Jean-Paul's hand.

Then, Forge introduced his friend. Her name was Mindy. Classic. After a few more minutes of gauche chat, Forge invited us to join them for dinner. Oh, hell no. "Oh, we're about to leave," I said as nicely as possible. I couldn't get Judy's attention fast enough. I paid my tab, left a tip, and left as quickly as I could.

"Ex-boyfriend?" Jean-Paul asked when we were safely in the car. I glared at him, and he shut up.



Jennifer Portman lived in a dingy apartment complex in a rough part of the city. The next street over was lined with posh socialites, but did they lend a hand to fellow neighbors? If the blinking hallway lights, the nearly broken elevator, and the bad plumbing were any indications of what the socialites did for these people, I would be inclined to say no. I bet most of those lawyers and doctors didn't even know this street existed. I shook my head.

Jean-Paul knocked on the door while I continued to look around at the dire condition of the place. A few minutes later, a door opened and a small woman looked out. There were a matching set of bags under her eyes, and she was obviously exhausted. I almost felt sorry for bothering her. "Jean-Paul, what brings you here?"

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Yeah," she said, opening the door wide. Jean-Paul walked into the apartment, and I followed behind him. He was supposed to keep the waters calm when she found out who I was.

"You brought a friend." She said blinking at me. I studied the woman, committing her physical details to memory. She was about my height and age. She had long, dark hair that fell in limp ripples around her shoulder. Cerulean eyes stared at me. She had a frail appearance to her. It made you want to wrap her in your arms and promise she would be okay.

"Yes, this is Ororo Munroe," he said nonchalantly as if we had known each other all our lives.

"The vampire hunter?"

"Yes, but…" He didn't get a chance to finish his statement as she hissed at me and flung her petite body at me. She started scratching and slapping at me. I held my arms up in defense. My first instinct was to plant my foot in the pit of her stomach and send her sprawling across the room. Instead, I grabbed her wrists, wrestling her to the ground. I pinned her arms with my knees and put a forearm against her throat. I didn't want to hurt her, and she hadn't hurt me. Most of the children had hit harder than she did.

She whimpered beneath me. "You can't kill him!" She wailed, tears beginning to course down her face.

"I'm not here to kill anyone." I said, releasing her. I stood, and she sat up quickly, hugging her knees. I think she realized that she couldn't out power me.

"Please…" She whispered.

"Jean-Paul, do something." I demanded. This was his main reason for being here. I knew that if he didn't do something, this woman was going to go into hysterics. Jean-Paul kneeled beside Jennifer and started talking to her softly. I couldn't hear what he said, but she was nodding. I hoped that was a good sign.

I walked to a small door that led to a bedroom. I know. I know. I shouldn't be walking around some strange person's house, but I was trying to find a bathroom. There was a coffin by the bed. Her new lover—the 'him' she didn't want me to kill. I walked through the bedroom and found a bathroom. I wet a washcloth and took it back to the living room, handing it to Jean Paul. He put the cloth to her neck.

"I reassured her that you were not going to hurt Jack." Jean-Paul said. Jack in the box. That was the first thought that crossed my mind. I would've smiled too if it hadn't seemed so inappropriate.

"Jennifer, I'm trying to apprehend whatever it is that killed your boyfriend. I would appreciate any help you could give me." I said kindly. She looked at me suspiciously.

"Why are you working for them? Everyone knows you hate vampires." Jennifer said through sniffles.

"Have you ever met the strongest master of this city?" I asked her, and she shook her head. "Trust me when I say this. She's so powerful she even scares me. I'm only human after all. She wants me to find whatever this is killing the vampires, and I'm going to do it. So anything you can tell me would be a big help."

She still looked at me suspiciously, but she didn't ask me any more questions. "We were at a freak party the night he died." Jennifer said. I knew a freak was someone who liked vampires, but I didn't know anything about a "freak party". I would ask Jean-Paul about that later.

"Did anything out of the ordinary happen at this party?" I asked.

"No," she answered meekly.

"Were there any people there who didn't like Paul? Did he have any enemies in general?"

"No, not that I know of," she said. She was shaking now, and I couldn't bring myself to badger her. No matter what this woman thought of me, I wasn't the fiend she made me out to be.

"Thank you, Jennifer. I appreciate your help." I said, and she nodded. This almost seemed like a waste of my time. In fact, it would've have been if she hadn't mentioned the freak party.

Jean-Paul helped her back to her bedroom. She leaned on him heavily as if she were lame. I couldn't help feeling that I may have been some of the reason for that. I hadn't meant to scare the woman. I hadn't actually done anything to her, but of course, my reputation precedes me. If I were a civilian, especially one that liked vampires, I would be pretty afraid of myself as well.

Jean-Paul and I didn't talk until we were back in the car. I got this distinct feeling that something was bothering him. Maybe, it was me, but if it was, he had to remember that he invited himself. "What is a freak party? Is it what I'm thinking it is?" I asked, filling the empty silence in the car. I was thinking it was something like a huge orgy with vampires. I hope I was wrong in thinking so.

"You can have any vampire any way you want at these parties. Same goes for humans." He said flatly. It was exactly what I thought it was. "I use to go to them a lot, but I got tired of being a piece of meat. I don't want to end up like Jennifer or worse."

I didn't want him to elaborate. "Did any of the other vampires murdered attend these parties?" I asked.

"Yeah, I know that one of them did. I could check around and find out if the others did as well. Could you drop me off at the club?"

"Vermillion Nights?" I asked. I don't know why I asked him that. What other club could he be talking about?

"Yeah."

"What about your car?"

"I don't drive. Carmen dropped me off."

I bristled at the mention of the name. I hadn't thought about her much since that night at the club, but her name still invoked a rage. "Oh, did she now?" I said acidly.

"Why are you so mad at Carmen?" He asked. I wondered if he was blind or just plain stupid. Carmen was the whole reason I was in this mess in the first place.

I clenched my jaw tightly. "She betrayed me and put someone she called a friend in potential danger. I expect deceitfulness from vampires. No offense."

"None taken. So loyalty and friendship mean a lot to you."

They were two of the most important things in my life. It was something I learned when I first joined the X-Men. Always be loyal to your friends; they're the ones you're going to need in your life. I didn't know if he would understand that, so I simply said, "Yes."

"And if a person is your friend, you would do anything for them?" He asked.

"Yes… almost… even I have my limits with friendship…" I trailed off. I would do anything for my friends as long as it wasn't intentionally destructive. I wouldn't do it if it was unintentionally destructive, but I don't think my friends would ever put me in a situation that called for me to do something I think was wrong.

"You know she's afraid of you. Every time your name is mentioned she pales." He sounded as if he were reprimanding me. I guess threatening the vampires' lapdog wasn't too nice.

"Good. I hope she sees my face in her nightmares. I don't make idle threats, and if anything happens to Jean, well, I plan on making Carmen's life a living hell." I said in a scathing tone.

He was quiet for a moment. "Did you really threaten to kill her?"

"In so many words."

"What would you do to her?" He asked. He was like a curious kid. Did the questions ever stop coming?

"Let's just cutting her heart out would be my preferred death of choice, but there are other ways." There was no sense in sugar coating the truth. I didn't like the woman, and I wasn't about to hold back my feelings for her because she was everyone's favorite vampire lover.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side." He chuckled. He ran his hair through his hair, pulling his hair away from his ears. A gold loop adorned the top of his visible ear. I hadn't noticed that at the club.

"Why do you hide your ears?" I asked, not wanting to talk about Carmen anymore.

"I think you know, Ororo." He said, ruefully.

Yes, I did know. I knew he had to hide them from the normals. They didn't like mutants or vampires, and they didn't like looking at anything that reminded them that we were here. "Yeah, I do, but I think they're charming." I said, trying to sound upbeat.

"Is that a compliment?"

I shrugged. "Take it as you want."

"I was like you once. Still am." He said after a brief pause.

"What do you mean?"

"I was a mutant before I was turned. I still am I think. I haven't really tried to use my power since I've been turned. My adopted mother use to call me her north star." He got a faraway look in his eyes, and even though I was curious about the effect of vampirism on mutants, I decided not to ask. It seemed like it would be a touchy subject.

I stopped in front of the club and Jean-Paul prepared to get out. "I need to go to one of those parties." I said suddenly.

"You don't want to go to one of those parties." He was already shaking his head. I wasn't trying to go to one of these parties because I wanted to have a good time. I doubt I would enjoy something like that.

"No, I don't want to, but I need to."

"There's one coming up soon. If you want to go, I'll have to take you. I'll contact you with the details."

"I'll give you my pager number too in case I'm not reachable at the school." I wrote my pager number down on a small scrap of paper and handed it to him. I pulled away after he got out of the car.

What the hell was I doing? I didn't know if I could even trust Jean-Paul. He let vampires—his own kind—bite him. He was a vampire junkie, and he was a vampire. There's something wrong with that picture. I needed information on Jean Paul, and there was only one person I knew would have the sort of information I needed.



Phil's Place was a bar near the vampire district run by a guy named Phil. He used to be a cop until a vampire turned him. He was kicked off the force when it was finally revealed that he'd been turn. The force was his life. He took the phrase "to serve and protect" quite seriously. Now, he holds a grudge again the cops of this city. That's where I came in. He was always willing to give me information. So, he got to help the cops all while holding his grudge against them. If anyone knew anything worth knowing, it was Phil. Or rather, I should say Phil and Cecilia.

Cecilia Reyes was a mutant who worked for Phil; she was paying her way through college. She wanted to be a doctor. Whatever Phil knows, Cecilia knows. I thought Phil might've had a soft spot for the feisty Puerto Rican girl. The professor tried to recruit her once, but she told him this world needed another doctor not another superhero. Phil once told me she wanted to be a doctor because her own father had died when he didn't receive proper medical care. I had to admire her drive to succeed.

The bar was still rather empty. It was dark, but it was still too early for the serious drinkers. Cecilia was behind the bar, cleaning out glasses. I sat down at the bar, and she nodded at me. She set a glass of water in front of me – my usual. "Whatcha know good?" She asked me, leaning against the counter.

I smiled at her. "I was just about to as you the same thing. I need information, Cee. Is Phil around?"

She shook her head and said, "Naw, he's out, but you know I can help you."

"Do you know anything about a vampire named Jean-Paul Beaubier?"

She tapped a finger against her chin for a few seconds. "Yeah, he's that stripper down at Vermillion Nights. Heard he's vampire junkie and was turned by that mean, undead motherfucker Valiant." Valiant Kessler was one mean vampire. He was suspected in over 100 murders in the city. Too bad they couldn't prove it. He preyed on children, and I was afraid one day he might even get hands on one of the children from the school.

"Can Jean-Paul be trusted?" I asked, and Cecilia snorted at me.

"Hell, 'Ro. He's a junkie, and just like with any other junkie you need to be on your guard with him. Why do you ask?" She quizzed. I briefly told her why I needed to know. When I finished talking she said, "You better be careful. He would probably betray you in a blink of an eye."

"You're probably right, but he's my only means of getting into that party." I mused. "Have you heard anything about the murders?"

Cecilia leaned in real close to me, looking around suspiciously at the few patrons in the bar. "I heard the Humans Against Vampires have a death squad." She whispered. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. She pulled away from me then while I digested the information she gave me. Cecilia refilled a man's drink at the end of the bar.

Most of the members of HAV were the same people who made up the membership of Humans against Wereanimals and Friends of Humanity. Like I said, if it wasn't for mutants and night creatures, they would have to go out and find real jobs. They were known for their disorganized, violent activities, but now, they had a death squad. They were getting smarter by the minute. What happened when they wiped out all the vampires? Where mutants next?

I was jumping to conclusions. I didn't even know if the death squad was behind this. I put a hefty tip in Cecilia's tip jar. I stood to walk away, but Cecilia grabbed my hand. "'Ro, don't do this on your own, girl. Let someone help you. I know there has to be someone you can trust. Your friends for example," she said quietly.

"No, I've already gotten one friend in too deep. I don't need to get the others in." I answered, thinking about how Logan had offered to help me. I still hadn't answered him, and I was hoping that he'd forgotten.

"When are you going to stop being so stubborn and learn to trust your friends?" Cecilia asked.

"I do trust my friends, but I care for them too much to get them involved in this." I answered. Cecilia nodded in a gesture of understanding and turned away from me.

I walked out the door of the bar. I guess I could go back to the mansion and look over these files thoroughly hoping more clues jumped out at me. Hopefully, Jean-Paul would get in touch with me soon. Those parties were my only clue right now. "I ain't took yo' wallet!" I heard a voice tinged with a Cajun accent yelling out into the night.

Ahead of me a burly looking guy was shaking a tall, lanky boy. In the lights of the parking lot he looked around 17. The boy was poorly dressed. He was probably one of the many homeless children that roamed these streets. A wallet fell on the ground, and the man stooped to retrieve it while keeping a firm grip on the child. The man stood again and starting shaking the kid again.

"Didn't take my wallet, huh, kid? How do you explain this?" He thrust the wallet in the boy's face. I watched in horror as the man raised one meaty fist and hit the boy in the face. The boy fell with an audible groan. He stalked over the boy and raised one foot threateningly.

"Hey! Why don't you leave him alone!" I commanded, running over to the scene, putting myself between the man and the boy. He eyed me coolly.

"Look lady, this don't have nothing to do with you. It's between me and that Cajun trash right there." He pointed at the boy who was still on the ground clutching his face. He didn't make a move to get around me though. I know he wasn't afraid me. He couldn't be. He towered over me, but maybe he had reserves about hitting women. I was hoping he did. If he hit me, I would be forced to defend myself. The outcome might not be too pretty.

"Look at him. He's just a kid." I said in my most reasoning tone.

He looked from me to the boy, and then waved a dismissive hand at the boy and me. "He ain't worth the trouble anyway. Go ahead. Help him; just make sure you still got your wallet when he leaves. And if I ever catch him again, believe me lady, I'm not going to go easy on him 'cause he's a punk kid."

The man walked away from us, entering the bar. I let out the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. "Are you all right?" I asked the boy, kneeling beside him.

"Please, lemme go. Don' call da cops. I was jus' hungry," he started explaining. I knew how he felt. After my parents were killed, I'd done the same thing many times. You did what you had to do to survive, and unfortunately, when you didn't have anyone, that usually meant stealing.

"It's okay. I'm not going to call the police." I said softly. I touched the boy's shoulder. He looked up at me and I noticed his eyes were a strange color – black on red. I must've left out a gasp because the boy frowned at me.

"I say lemme go!" He yelled, jerking away from me. He hopped from the ground swiftly as if the man never hit him; he ran across the parking lot. I chased him of course. It might have not been the smartest thing I've ever done, but I did want to help the boy. The boy was fast, but I somehow managed to keep a few paces behind him. The chase led to a cluttered alley.

"Wait! I can help you!" I called after him.

I saw the boy pause shortly, and I thought he might actually let me talk to him. He stood there for a moment, and I slowed my paced. Suddenly, he turned and I saw his hands move swiftly. I didn't see whatever it was he threw at me, but I heard it as it went whizzing past my face in a pink blur, heat grazing the side of my face. The object hit a row of garbage cans behind me. I screamed and fell to my knees as they blew up, spewing trash everywhere – including on me.

The boy was long gone by the time I realized I was still alive. This is where I should have screamed a well-deserved expletive, but I was running a little low on them in recent days. I stood up slowly, pulling Goddess knows what from my hair and clothing. Well, if I hadn't been planning to go back to the mansion, this encounter would have changed that. That must be the kid that Scott and Logan were looking for. The boy sure knew how to make an impact, and I meant that literally.



I tried to be quiet as possible when I entered the mansion. It seems as if I was always trying to sneak into the mansion these days, and I was always being caught like defiant teen. If fate was on my side tonight, I would be able to get to my room without having to explain what happened.

"What happened to you?" Jean asked when I entered the mansion. She was walking into the rec room with a bowl of popcorn. Scott and Logan walked out of the rec room at Jean's question. Damn, there went my hopes of having a stealthy entrance. Things never went as planned Logan screwed up his nose at me. Thanks a lot, pal. It's nice to know you think I reek. I guess I couldn't be too mad. I did reek.

"Let's just say I helped a kid out, and he repaid me by blowing up the garbage cans. I knew there was a reason I loved my job." I said sarcastically.

"Sounds like the same kid we've been trying to track down." Logan grumbled. Logan actually sounded a little bitter when he said this. I wondered what the kid did to him. It couldn't have been half as bad as what he did to me.

I smiled at Logan. "When you catch him…" I trailed off as a pain ripped through my head.

"'Ro, what's wrong?" I heard Logan ask with concern edging his voice.

"I'm fine. I just have a headache. Excuse me," I said, hastily making my way toward the stairs. I paused on the first step, gripping the banister tightly. My head was pounding again, the illogical images raged through my mind again. Intense pain threatened to send me crashing to my knees. I closed my eyes, grabbing my head.

I could feel myself slumping, but there was nothing I could do about it. I could dimly hear the others asking what was wrong, but I was unable to answer. I was falling deeper into this darkness. I had the odd sensation of floating. Even though I tried to fight it, for the second time in twenty-four hours, everything went black.