Pay the Devil His Due
The female froze at the edge of the clearing and sniffed the air. She was weary of venturing out from the safety of the trees. But the grass was best in the center of the field, and so if she wanted to eat she had to take the chance. She didn't want to meet a predator. She took a tentative step out into the clearing and then another; soon she was well into the clearing. The doe found a good place and bent her head down to feed, she knew she shouldn't be there alone but she was pregnant and didn't want to wait for company to come here and feed with her. Every few mouthfuls she would raise her head and scan for danger. The wind shifted and she caught the sent on a predator and darted off into the trees.
From his perch on the knoll, Logan watched the doe enter the clearing and eat. He was too lost in thought to truly enjoy her as he usually would have. He held in his callused hands a small well-worn leather notebook. The brown leather was creased and the pages were tattered. Logan looked down at it and cursed out loud.
Over the years he had found out who the girl was, Destiny was no longer the frail little girl that had boldly walked into his hotel room a life-time ago. Then stupid woman had gotten herself killed and had not even told him what she wanted. And that scared Logan more then anything: Destiny was also not the type to leave debts unpaid. Something was coming and despite the book of prophesies she had given him, Logan had no idea what it was. He always felt that whatever she wanted of him would involve Rouge, but the old women had never made mention of the girl in the journal; still he watched out for the kid. When the wind shifted and the doe bolted into the woods he took that as his cue to leave.
He returned the volume to its hiding place and turned towards the mansion. Over the years the mansion had worn him down and he had learned to call it home. When Logan got in he found Rouge standing in the foyer with a terrified look on her face, in her hand she held a plain white envelope. Logan looked up at her puzzled. Her sent was a mixture fear and anxiety; he was curious as to why an envelope would make her react that way.
"This came for ya," she almost whispered it as she held out the envelope out to him. He took it, it was too sedated looking to be from Jubilee and Kitty had taught him how to use email. Nobody sent him plain white envelopes. She stood there, her eyes locked with his. Logan looked down at the envelope; he recognized the writing from the book that he had been looking through. Rouge had obviously recognized her Nana's handwriting; his eyes met hers.
"Thanks Darlin'," he said more and took the envelop her. Rouge then turned and floated up the stairs.
Logan jammed the letter into the pocket of his jeans and tried to forget about it for the rest of the day. He knew what the letter was about, he really didn't want to find out what he had to do, part of him did not want to do it. He feared Destiny, she had been so right about everything, he had found his home. There was more in the book; more children were coming into his life. He was scared of that too, and at the same time wanted nothing more then to embrace fatherhood. Logan knew that he had no choice but to open the letter, he should have realized that Irene would not let a little thing like being dead interfere with her plans.
Finally the day ended and Logan flopped down on his bed and pulled out the now crumpled letter; he had run out of excuses to avoid the thin rectangle of paper. He turned it over in his hand, examining it. Rouge had given him strange looks all day that he had ignored. Logan relented at last and popped a claw; he sliced through the folds of paper and pulled out the letter. He unfolded it, there was no turning back, but then again there hadn't been away to avoid this since that night she had walked into his life.
Jenny gingerly removed the deck of cards from the intricately carved wooden box that held them. Most people would admire the box for its craftsmanship and the beauty of the carvings that covered it. Few people realized the charms carved on it were powerful runes; they kept the tarot cards inside free from magic, free from the influence of spells and black magic. She spread them out on the blanket in front of her like she did every morning and cut the deck. She looked up and smiled at Sally, the other child sat quietly on the blanket across from her watching the little ritual unfold with quite amazement. Jenny drew cards from the top of the deck and displayed them in front of her, one by one she flipped over the cards and studied them intently. By the end of the reading Jenny's smile had evaporated. She stared at the last card and batted away tears.
"The cards never lie," she didn't look up at her sister. Sally studied Jenny's face and got up after a bit. The child walked around the carefully laid out cards and climbed into Jenny's lap; her arms wrapped around her sister's neck and her long furry tail snaked around Jenny's waist. Jenny in return gave her a hug back and nuzzled the little girl's fuzzy face. Both were quiet for a long time. Finally Sally pulled away and looked down at the cards. "Your right, we have to get going," Jenny broke the silence. "If Many Faces catches us, it'll be worse."
Quickly and without further discussion, their things disappeared into a ratty rucksack, the girls surveyed the clearing to make sure no trace of the little camp remained. Jenny pulled Sally's hat down low making sure that it covered all her cat like features. They turned and headed for the highway.
The emptiness of the night engulfed the jeep. The only light was from the occasional farmhouse in the distance, not even the moon came out and the stars found clouds to hide behind. The prairie stretched out around the jeep punctuated by the occasional well-worn hill and strait lines of trees and bushed that bent in the wind. The trees did not belong in this part in the country and neither did the yellow jeep.
Logan was in a bad mood. He hated being manipulated, especially by a dead woman. There was no real reason for him to be out here, not much Destiny could do if he turned around, nothing was stopping him from finding a bar and getting drunk and forgetting about everything. What pissed him off the most though was that she knew all those years ago that he'd be driving around the back roads of Montana looking for god knows what. Logan didn't turn around though, he always paid his depts.
A bad Patsy Cline remake came over the radio and he punched the power button off, he didn't need anything to make his mood worse. He slowed down and stopped in the middle of a crossroads and picked up the GPS next to him. The woman had been fucking exact. He studied it a minuet, according to the little map on the screen he was suppose to turn left. He didn't want to take a wrong turn; he mused though that he couldn't be late no matter how hard he tried. Still, he decided to reenter the coordinates. As he waited for the satellite hook up he checked his watch. He had forty-five minuets, fucking exact. The GPS beeped in his hand and bold letters in the middle of the screen told him that there were no satellites in the sky; this truly was the middle of nowhere. He tossed it on the seat and wished to himself that one of his girls were here to deal with the useless box. He could of done better with a map and a compass or a sexton even. Logan scanned the rolling prairie, the land was open in all directions, but the darkness closed in on him. He turned left.
The road remained straight, with only the occasional hill. After a while the asphalt gave way to gravel. Still it was an important artery, someone graded it often and there was only the occasional pothole. Logan glanced over at the evil peace of plastic laying on the passenger seat, but it hadn't changed its mind, there were still no satellites. He noticed headlights in his rearview mirror; a crowded pickup sped past kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. According to his watch he still had twenty minutes. Another truck appeared out of nowhere and sped past. After the third one past he sped up and followed, he had a feeling they were all headed in the same direction.
Off in the distance ahead he noticed a bright glow stretching up into the sky. He crest a rise in the road and took in the scene. A ring of vehicles formed a circle in a field, with their headlights on they made an eerie ring around an oversize cross. At the crux of the cross a bundle was tied. He shifted gears and sped up.
Approaching the cluster of farm trucks, he still hadn't got a good look at what was tied to the cross. Logan knew it was what he was sent for. He turned the jeep off the road into the field and drove around the circle to the far side and parked, he didn't want anyone to park behind him incase he needed to make a quick getaway. He routed around in a duffel bag behind his seat; Logan didn't know what to expect so he had come prepared for anything. He pulled apart a brick of gray putty and grabbed some tiny electric timers. He got out and wove his way through the maze of trucks. Destiny gave him another six minuets, so he set the timers accordingly. He slipped under the occasional truck and placed an explosive.
Finally he made his way to the center of the gathering and got his first real look at the cross. People believed that nothing could phase the Wolverine, he had been around for so long and witnessed so much that he had scene it all. In truth, the cruelty of people sickened him, he just hid his reaction better then most. Suspended in the middle of the cross, strung out like Jesus, was a small child. Piled at the base of the cross wood with the pungent smell of gas wafting up. No one was getting away unscathed.
A man came up beside him and handed him a beer. Logan nodded at the man and opened the can. He put it to his lips and tipped his head back and emptied it and tossed the can to the ground.
"Thirsty," the man chuckled. Logan grunted in reply. "Had your turn yet?"
"Not yet," Logan had no idea what he was talking about but he noticed the lack of women and children about. What men did out of sight of their families could be horrible.
"Well you better hurry before the McConnel boys get to her. She's a sweet little fuck." He nodded to a truck with a cluster of men around it. Logan smiled at his new friend.
"I have more beer in my truck, help me with it." Like a toddler lured by the promise of candy, the man followed. Logan returned a moment later alone.
At the far edge of the clearing a timer reached zero - chaos ensued. Later, in drunken retellings by a few survivors, a story would evolve implementing hundreds of mutants and of a lone devil. Everyone at some point in the investigation would be implemented: from mutants, to aliens, to government experiments. Their voices quivered in fear as they told how forty-three Montana farm boys died that night, the night the Wolverine was allowed out to kill freely. In their attempt to escape, people slipped in pools of muddy blood; men cried like babies for their mothers, mercy and god, they found none. The angle of death simple pointed to the cross in answer to their pleas. Many died that night and of the few survivors, none escaped unscathed, all were marked, physically and psychologically. Many eventually went mad with dreams of that night. Some tried to defend themselves; they just died a little slower.
It was over in minuets. Logan stood in the centre of the bloody ground, sometimes it was necessary to release the animal; he had no regrets.
He walked over to the cross and pulled away the wood at the base. He didn't wonder why the child was so important to Destiny, for him all children were important. Logan suspected that it had something to do with his mutation, some primitive need to protect children even if they were not his. He surveyed the situation and ran a hand down one cheek thinking. The long adamantiumblades protruding from his arms sliced easily through the wood. He jumped back quickly as it fell backward toward him and caught it, he finished lowering it to the ground and laid the cross gingerly on the ground and cut through the bonds that held the child.
"Hey there," his voice was soft. Logan picked her up, she couldn't have been more then five. The child stared at him, mute with fear. He took in the obvious mutant features of the child. The small furry face was wet with tears. "Your safe now Darlin'." He picked up the child and began to wonder what happened to the woman that the men were taking turns with. His keen senses picked up movement behind him; he turned around. A girl, about thirteen, stood there in the harsh glow of headlights. Her shirt was ripped open and hung limp on her shoulders, her pants were missing, all over her body bruises were forming. She held a rifle in her hands and shaking levelled it at his chest.
Logan's heart went out to the girl; she was too young. He had to beat down the rage that swelled up again in him. A gust of wind blew across the scene; it picked up her fear and carried it across to him, nearly choking him. The fear of an adult could intoxicate the Wolverine and feed his rage; the fear of a child was different, sour almost, it always sickened him. He reacted different to that sent.
He took a step toward her; she pulled the trigger. The gun failed to fire. With every step toward her she grew more frantic, trying to fire the gun again and again. In desperation she threw the gun at him. It landed on the ground between them. He stepped over it. When she was within reach she struck out at him with her fists, screaming and crying, begging him to let the child go. Logan knelt down in front of her and threw his free arm around her and pressed her close.
"Its over," he whispered. She tried to fight. "I'll take care of you now, your safe." He knew it was a dangerous promise to make, he had made it to Jubilee years ago and had always felt that he had been unable to keep it. She collapsed, crying in his arms.
Logan closed the back door of the jeep, inside two terrified little girls sat clinging to each other, wrapped in an old wool blanket. As he opened the driver-side door a familiar sent caught his attention and his nostrils flared. He turned around. A dark haired man stood there, nothing about him was remarkable; he looked like every other man that was in the field earlier that night. Logan gave him an amused smile.
"I thought we were past these games, Raven." The man changed and was replaced by the blue shape shifter, Mystique. "That's better." He ran an appreciative eye over her with a mischievous grin. She stepped towards him and gave him a deep, involved kiss; Logan kissed back. Mystique pulled back and leaned against the truck behind her.
"So how about if you keep the fur ball and give me the other one?"
"You know I can't do that Darlin'." He had pegged the wrong one as important but his face did not betray his surprise. Her seductive smile vanished into a scowl.
"The old man won't know what to do with her," she snapped.
"And I suppose she'll be better off with you."
"I can help her, teach her to reach her full potential."
"Like you helped Rouge." She shot him an angry glare. "Destiny hid her from you." Mystic pursed her lips and looked away. "She told me exactly where and when." Logan regarded her reaction.
"She wouldn't do that to me."
"She did."
Logan turned onto the gravel road, the girls whimpered in the back. He though about calling the mansion, they needed a doctor and he didn't feel like the hassle he would get at a hospital. On the seat beside him the GPS beeped obnoxiously, he picked it up and glanced down at it. It informed him that he had found the coordinates he was looking for. He rolled down the window and tossed it out.