CAJUN CINNAMON
Book One of the Annwn Ryu Cycle

Chapter XVII
"Surging Forward"

Cayanne lay, sprawled comfortably, on the RecRoom couch, head in Stryfe's lap, book propped on her knees, reading a textbook on ancient history, ignoring the Wensday night racket of the teen-agers discussing the upcoming weekend.
She drummed her fingers lightly against the binding, trying to focus on her reading - she was intrested, currently, in Ancient Egypt and reading avidly on the subject - this was her eighteenth book regarding the civilization's history and culture.
Her father had plans to go with Marie to dinner and a movie on Saturday, and Cayanne had the feeling that, though she was dearly loved - too many loving smiles and ruffles of her hair in passing let her even entertain a moment's doubt - her Papa and the woman he loved needed some - quality time.
"Cayanne?" Hank's voice was calling, as he made his way through the kitchen.
"I not here, Rafe!" she whispered, theatrically, elicting a raised eyebrow in reply.
"Ah, there you are!" the furred mutant seemed pleased as he approached the couch. "I have a few suggestions for improvements in your rather disturbing diet of late."
"Do tell." The man formerlly known as Stryfe was intrested as he rested a protective hand on her shoulder.
"Cayanne has not been eating well." said Hank, honestly, patting the teen-ager's other shoulder reassuringly.
"Mind if I join dis conversation?" asked the young Cajun, dryly.
There was a guilty instant of silence before Hank said, "I do apologize, Cayanne."
Stryfe regarded the girl with a searching gaze, reciving a wordless shrug.
"Not hungry." she muttered, but her friend's hand came to rest gently but firmly on her shoulder, as Hank started toward the kitchen.
Cayanne snorted, but reluctantly let herself be guided toward an early lunch.

Encouraged by Hank's menu, Remy had finished lunch and sat down a steaming bowl of his famous Cajun chili, sliding a bowl in front of his daughter. He dropped into a chair across from her with an encouraging grin, aware of Zane and Brendan ladling healthy servings into their own bowls, sitting down nearby.
Cayanne stirred her own bowl absently, then, seeing the concern in her father's eyes, began to eat.

Zane and Brendan were playing a spirited game of catch while Liam sat on the steps, watching silently, with Fabian sprawled on the grass, staring up at the sky.
Occasionally, flickers of light swirled through Fabian's skin, and his eyes would give a brief glow, before returning to their normal color.
"I d-d-don't understand." Liam whispered, after a few minutes. "W-why d-do they w-want us t-to s-study all th-this?" Shy and soft-spoken, the small, fragile boy seemed to stammer every few seconds, a fact his friends never brought up. "A-and th-the o-others...."
"Who knows?" replied Brendan, stretching out luxuriously in the sunlight. "Probably to get us to see their side."
Liam looked down and Fabian gave his leg a friendly swat. "Don't worry, buddy. You're doin' great." he encouraged.
"Yeah." Brendan grinned, running a hand through his mop of golden hair. "In the top five of the class."
Fabian cocked an eyebrow, then grinned.
Liam looked down.
Brendan touched his shoulder, gently, in concern. "You're scared of telling them, aren't you, Li?" his voice was soft. "About these guys finding out..." He stopped, glanced over at Fabian, who sat up and gave Liam a one-armed hug of support.
"I-if they s-see me, th-they will h-hate..." Tears dampened the mask, and suddenly Zane was there, arms protectively encircling the smaller boy. "Th-they will h-hate me t-too." He buried his face in Zane's athletic shoulder, trembling with memory.
"They won't hurt ya, Li." Zane murmered, while his companions gathered closer, wordlessly protective.
"Th-they d-don't kn-know....a-and I-I d'don't th-think they w-will l-like..."
"T'hell with them." said Zane, fiercely. "We stick together, right guys?"
Fierce nods, almost in unison.
"C-Cayanne....sh-she i-is...i-is sh-she h-happy h-here?"
"Cay could have fun at a financial meeting." Zane suddenly grinned. "Assumin' she didn't take it over."
"Okay, let's get ready then." said Brendan, an impish grin spreading across his features.
"Fer what?" asked Fabian, leaning back into the grass.
"The same thing we get ready for every night! T'try to take over the world!"
The quote from Pinky and the Brain made everyone but Liam groan theatrically, as Brendan grinned.

Thursday morning, Cayanne was energetically typing away on her newest creation - a satellite uplink that would increase Cerebro's range by three times - and half the power. She had examined the schematics (that-she-wasn't-supposed-to-know-about) and ran it over in her head until she found the strengths and weaknesses.
It was almost 2pm when she saved her work - and Scott turned off the computer.
"Hey!" the Cajun teen-ager spun around, glaring up at the teacher. "Why you do dat? More to do!"
"It's 2 o'clock, Cayanne." A smile had worked it's way down Scott's normally pensive features, as the younger mutant snorted.
"Dat true, an'?" she asked, leaning back in the chair.
"Have you finished your...."
"Math'matics? Contrôle. English paper on de classics? Contrôle. Report on de ancient world's 'litical structure? Contrôle...." Cayanne began ticking the assignments off on her graceful, quick fingers and her teacher frowned.
"What have you done for your Internet social report?"
"Done on de use business of de search eng'ne for social aren'a." Cayanne's expression was impish.
"What?" Scott was puzzled.
"Lemme put another way, oui?" Her eyes took on a gleam that would make the most iron-willed of souls nervous. "Why we get dose silly porno ads inna mail."
"Cayanne!"
"I not dead, Chef Courageux." she said, dryly.
"Of course not, but....but...." Scott was sputtering, and he could swear that teen-aged swamp rat was enjoying it! "It's..."
"If you not loosen up, your face gonna freeze like 'at."
"Cayanne!"
Cayanne rolled her eyes, partially amused, partially annoyed.
"I want you to do something else."
"Pourquoi?" Those argent-on-ebon eyes narrowed then, demanding answers on why her freedom was being curtailed, even slightly.
For a moment, Scott floundered. It was true, she had focused on a social delimma, just one he wasn't quite sure he wanted dealt with by his teen-age students quite yet. Or was it he didn't want to deal with it? He considered that a moment. The whole subject was....unnerving.
"Because I'd like to see you do something on live social interaction."
"Grande. Cayanne go watch television an' get back t' you."
Oh no you don't. Scott turned the system back on and booted the chat protocol, finding a list of "rooms". "One of these, and live, current events, Cayanne." he said, trying for a stern tone, handing her a composition book and a pen from his drawer.
Cayanne snorted, fingertips flying across the keys. "Dis once, den, Chef Courageux, I do your way." Because I promised my father, was not said, but understood.
Scott smiled, patted the girl's shoulder, and left to check on the other students.

Cayanne wandered the chat lounges, which ranged - in her opinion - from the inane, to the intresting, to the downright obnoxious.
A title caught her eye, and she tapped a query in, both eyebrows rising and a snort indicating her disdain - "Friends of Humanity" indeed!
Mutants human, she growled to herself, wondering how those morons managed to avoid that fact. Homo sapians sapians sapians, homo superior, t'ough I prefer de "homo sapians evolutionis" - even t'ough make Jean laugh.
Debating on an online name, she decided with an evil smile to "infiltrate" the odious orginization.
Tapping a long, elegant finger against her almost pointed chin, Cayanne entered her handle.
"KilltheMuties".
Gaaah, what I do fer de project - you owe Cayanne, Chef Courageux!
She entered the chat room.

Hi, KilltheMuties, m/f? popped up immediately.
Don't dese idiots have any oth'r way find a date? Bah.
F. she typed in, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the names on the "buddies" bar.
Age?
Get life! Cayanne snarled, inwardly, as she was bombarded with similar idiocy. No reason tell real age. she consoled herself. Couldn't if wanted to anyhow, not know.
21 today! Yay!! Gonna go get myself a beer tonight for the first time! Nice, clean-cut, innocent kid. Right.
Congradulations, KtM! added MutiesareEvil. I have a son about your age.
Really? Cayanne was more intrested in the reproductive habits of lichin, but she feigned intrest while taking notes.
His name is Kevin, he was accepted to Martindale last month.
Martindale?
It's a small private college near Bethesda.
Cayanne entered that in her notes, and soon discovered the hateful element the members of this room were capable of.
We got a mutie out of the public elementery today, guys. said PureHuman. Had some defects that scared the kids.
Cayanne was immediately more intrested. A kid kicked out of school?
What was wrong with them? Damn muties are getting to be everywhere. grumbled GetMutiesFixed.
Damn freak was some kind of mind-reader, had wierd eyes.
What happened? asked DoMutiesHaveSouls.
We had to notify the parents, they'll take care of it.
God, that's scary, things like that associating with human children. said GetMutiesFixed.
My husband had a long talk with our junior high, said MutiesareEvil. Two kids had to be suspended - well, three, but one of the damn muties died of some wierd disease a few days later.
One less for us to worry about, said PureHuman.
LOL! added GetMutiesFixed.
lol, was DoMutiesHaveSouls comment.
Cayanne shuddered, but noted the IP addresses of the culprits, and tracked down the two junior high mutants.
Amie Iverson was thirteen, Terry Eison was twelve. Both had good school records, hadn't been in much trouble - Terry had been in a couple of fights, but that was it.
Enfer, I been in more fights den he has! Cayanne thought.
Then, while occasionally adding a comment here or there, she found the young elementary school victim, discovering he was the youngest of three children (an elder sister and brother) named Cole Masters. Despite memorizing them, she noted them in her composition book.
The next comment made her sit up straight.
We're gonna teach that mutie school a lesson tommorow, PureHuman was saying.

Byron knocked on Professor Xavier's door, and was somewhat suprised to see one of the older students, Burt Gibson, stomp out.
Pausing a polite moment, he entered the telepath's inner sanctum and spoke quietly. "Trouble in paradise?" asked the younger professor, smiling with a faint sadness as settled into the indicated chair.
"Young Mr. Gibson seems to enjoy nothing but football." said Xavier, shuffling the records he'd been reviewing with a sigh. "His grades have begun to drop, and I felt it important to suspend him from the sport for a few weeks." He shook his head.
"Burt belives he will be a famous quarterback once he reaches eighteen." observed Byron, sympathizing. He was careful to never broach patient-doctor confidentiality, but the young man's ambition was hardly a secret. The psychiatrist waited a long moment, then said carefully,
"Charles, I have an observation." Drumming his fingers on the chair-arm absently, Byron continued, "Cayanne has done nothing but make her room a storage repository." The younger professor said it in such a way he obviously belived revealed something.
"She is quite private." Xavier said it mostly to keep the younger man talking, as he set his pen down and gave his guest his undivided attention. The younger man tended to be brief when worried, which he obviously was.
"I think it is a subconsious safety net. As long as she doesn't get too comfortable, she can leave anytime." explained Byron, running a hand through his dark blonde hair. "I've brought it up in the last session, but she always changes the subject. I...don't think she's sleeping, Charles. And she's still having difficulty eating - I'm getting very worried."
Xavier frowned, and shook his head. "Has she made any mention of why?" he asked, voice carrying a note of his own concern.
"No. I think she's afraid of sleeping." Byron brought out his small Lego set from his pocket and began to reassemble it, never glancing at his rapidly-moving hand. "Bordering on phobic."
"I shall speak to Remy about it."
Byron considered, Legos flowing through his agile fingers, then suggested, "Let me try first, Charles. I have an idea."

Logan heard the whoop as Cayanne came flying at him in a roundhouse kick, dancing and spinning around his punches.
Even without her quarterstaff, the Cajun teen was an agile and devious fighter, combining street smarts, her newfound martial arts skills, and sheer cussedness to keep up with her mentor. Even when he got her flat on her back, the irrepressable teen somehow wriggled free, rolling to the side and trying a leg-sweep.
Sneaky. Logan thought to himself, with an inward grin as he pinned her, elbow inches from her vunerable throat.
Fearless starlight-on-night eyes peered up at him, sparkling with inner fire and passion.
And she brought a knee up, rolling Logan off her, scrambling for perchace and hopping to her feet.
Logan came up in a leap, leg almost parallel to his torso, and caught the teen-ager's shoulder and sending her to the dojo's mat.
"Time." he said, offering her a hand up.
Climbing to her feet, she grinned up at him. "Almost hadja, oui?"
Despite himself, Logan grinned back. "Did ya, darlin'?" he asked, eyebrows rising.
Cayanne burst out laughing. "Getcha next time, Serre de Blaireau." she said, impishly.
The taller mutant stared at her. "What?" he asked, reaching for a stogie.
"Badger Claws!" and the irrepressable Cajun made her escape, laughter floating after her.

"Excuse me, Mister Logan?" The speaker was the new psychologist, which put Logan instantly on guard.
"Yeah?" he almost growled, hanging up his newly-washed gi neatly up in the locker he had claimed.
"May I speak with you a moment?" The young man seemed not at all put off by the gruffness in the other man's voice.
Logan turned around, regarding the psychologist steadily, then shrugged.
"Has Cayanne seemed - ah - unusually withdrawn, secretive to you?" Byron asked, falling in step with the other mutant.
"Kid has her secrets, bub." Logan absently dodged a tardy young mutant who called "Sorry!" as he dashed across the hallway toward Jean's science class, shaking a vicious ooze from tentacle-like fingers.
"She does indeed." Byron nodded. He regarded Logan, noticing again how much his physical appearance had changed. Taller, leaner, more angular, the mutant known as Wolverine had an even more feral appearance than before. His eyes were golden-hazel, features revealing nothing of his inner thoughts, and Byron wondered if the change had disturbed him - Logan seemed to take to his new form as though he'd been born into it, and the young psychologist was abruptly unsure if that was good or bad.
"Ya got a question?" Logan asked, turning to face the younger man as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"I'm concerned that Cayanne is not taking advantage of her room." Byron explained. "She stores her possessions there, but nothing else. It's as if she's made sure - unconciously - that she can leave at any moment. Or might be forced to."
Logan regarded the psychologist a long, searching moment, then headed for his room, deep in thought.

Cayanne leapt up on the bannister and slid agiley down, nearly giving Marie a cardiac arrest as she went airborne, flipping over twice and coming down with cat-like silence.
"Bonjour, Mère!" she called, catching sight of Zane and Justin and charging through the door before Marie could say a word.
"Cayanne!" she called, starting out herself before being caught in an affectionate embrace from behind. "Remy!" she said, unable to hide her delight. The conciousness of contact was a joy she could not get enough of - especially from the tall Cajun.
"Ce qui est la matière, cher?" he asked, smiling down at her.
"Cayanne just went bannister-surfing again." fumed Marie, quoting the young Cajun's own description. "Just ran by, said "Good morning, Marie", and kept on going! She could get hurt..." She was suprised by Remy's grin.
"Bonjour, Mère?" he asked.
"Yes." Marie was puzzled when he started to laugh.
"Cayanne not say Marie, cher." He smiled again, ruby highlights sparkling in his red-on-black eyes. "Mère, cher, not Marie. She call you "Mom"."

Reluctantly, Cayanne trudged up toward her room, hearing the first rumbles of thunder as the moon's light fled behind clouds of shadow.
Surge!
She was almost knocked off her feet, clutching the side of the banister for balance.
Surge...drowning...Surge....pain....Surge....burning....Surge...need...need...need....
Non! she snarled inwardly, managing to get in her room and sink to her knees. She tried for meditive calm, as Logan had started to teach her, but panic - infuriating, desperate panic - scrabbled dryly at the back of her throat.
SurgeSurgeSurge... Peaks of wild images, pain and need and wanting, confusion and - blood on a symbol she could never see. Handprint. Blurry. Moving. Voices hiss-whispering. Need. Hunger. Want.
Feed.
Non, non, NON! Cayanne scrambled in her small dufflebag, hands trembling, and realized with an inner chill she was looking for the drug.
She forced her hand back out, whispering to herself, Non, promised Papa. Won' break dat, no matter what. Non
Blurred images, maddening and confusing, swirled together like a pool of oil, set to burn.
Cayanne felt tears in her eyes, fighting for release, and she forced them down.
Her eyes caught another object, and she reached for it, staring down at the small case.
Dey be awful upset dey find out. she said, inwardly.
Dey not find out, den. another part of her replied, coldly logical.
It hurt. Cayanne admitted to herself. Hurt. I a mess. Need...
SURGESURGESURGESURGE....
Rushing down the mercifully clear hallway, the Cajun teen-ager managed to get to the bathroom in time to empty her rebellious stomach into the toilet.
She held the small case tightly, then came to a decision when the Surging seemed to increase, hammering in her head.
A moment later, Cayanne thought to herself with black humor, Well, dey wanted me sleep...

Zane and Liam were both in Scott's class - a fact which annoyed the older of the two no end, since they had to put up with Althea - and currently playing a spirited game of basketball when Liam suddenly froze, hidden face somehow showing shock.
"C-Cayanne?" he said, soft voice full of horror. "No!" He clutched his head, sinking to his knees, crying out as Zane leapt to his side, cushioning him against his shoulder.
"H-Hurt. Pain! Needs...Blurry....it's blurry....hurts...."
Scott hurried over to the two younger mutants, and was suprised when Zane swung wildly at him.
"Get away!" snarled the angelic youth.
"Easy, Zane." Scott tried for a comforting tone, crouching down next to the pair. "What happened?"
"I dunno." Zane rocked his friend against him. "Cayanne must be feelin' somethin', Li's real sensitive ta feelin's."
Scott exchanged a look with Logan over the boys' heads, and set out to find the irrepressable teen.

In the end, Logan took less than two minutes to barge into the girls' bathroom, elicitng a seductive smile from the towel-clad Althea and a shriek of shock from one of the other girls - colored a strange shade of green - both of which he ignored.
Making his way to the back of the large room, he was tearing a door off it's hinges when Scott caught up with him - and froze in horror.
Cayanne was semi-concious, staring with a kind of detached facination at the multiple deep cuts across her wrists.
Her ever-present gloves were folded neatly beside her, and by the look of her bleeding wrists, this was not the first of such slices.
Logan caught her wrists and held the pressure points firmly, watching the faint spurts come to a swift end as he scooped Cayanne up and headed for the MedBay.
Dammit, kid, you don't get off that easy! Logan snarled to himself.

Two hours and thirty stitches later, Cayanne was sipping tea and avoiding anyone's gaze while staring moodily into the warm liquid.
"What tha hell were ya thinkin'?!" exploded Logan, eliciting a sidelong look from Scott.
"It really matter?" There was an edge of weariness to her tone that made the words come out softly, which seemed to make Logan even more angry.
"It damn well matters, darlin'." he almost snarled.
She drew her skinny legs up to her chest, resting her chin medatively on her knees.
"I'll get Remy." Scott said, softly, touching Logan's shoulder.
"Non! Se vous plait." Cayanne said, jerking her head up. "No. Not need..."
"Lissen kid." It seemed to worry Logan further when the expected thump was not delivered on his sturdy shoulder. "Ya wanna talk about it?"
"Non." Cayanne closed her eyes, but murmered. "Maybe...not make any sense, t'ough. All blurry image an' feelin'. Nothin'...'cept when..." She stopped. "Don' know what happened." The teen-ager set the tea aside. "Jus'....like lightnin' flashes." Abruptly, she changed the subject. "You know Cayanne not even know when she born?" A faint laugh, pained ghost of her normal fiery chuckle. "Or where." She waved an absent hand, obviously dismissing that fact. "All dat matter is dat Papa, he give me - family, oui?" She opened her eyes. "Before dat, before try to pickpocket Papa, I not have past." She tilted her forehead forward, resting it against her knees.
Logan nodded in perfect empathy, which made Cayanne cock her head up toward him.
"I woke up one day inna woods with snow all aroun' me and no memory of how I got there." Logan told the younger mutant, eliciting widened eyes. The information was not in his profile, and obviously Remy had not shared that with her. "Wasn't even sure how long I was there. I was just....wild."
Cayanne turned up her wrists, not quite asking, but searching for a way to connect to the idea that she was not alone in her confusion.
"I tried fer more than a year, darlin'." Logan said, and Scott's head turned to his brother in shock. "Hell, I even gutted myself - but I couldn't die. Hurt like hell, yeah, but not die."
"Cayanne....sorry." she said, a hand coming down to rest on Logan's.
The older mutant looked down at that long-fingered, graceful hand for a long moment, then caught her fingers in his in a gentle squeeze.
Finally, the teen-ager spoke again. "It not stop. Jus' gets...blurry 'round de edges, oui?"
"What doesn't?" Logan asked, not letting that oddly elegant hand go.
Cayanne looked away, out the window, and then back into Logan's eyes, a frown on her angular face.
Scott stood near the door, trying to project encouragement.
"Surges." the Cajun said, finally. "Dey come, not stop...nothin' stop dem." Frustration made her scowl. "Dey too...too loud..."
Scott spoke gently, watching her with concern. "Are they telepathic?"
Cayanne shook her head. "Non. Not like dat. No words, no feelin', not like dat. Jus'...flashes dat rise an' fall." she glanced sidelong at Logan, as though asking a question.
A nod, another squeeze of her hand.
"I wantcha t' talk ta Chuck and Byron."
"Logan...." Cayanne began, eyes turning smokey with internal disquiet, but her mentor shook his head.
"Lissen. You talk t' Chuck about this, I won't tell Remy about yer strange shavin' accident."
"Dat blackmail!"
Scott smiled at Logan, seeing the silver fire start to burn again in the teen-ager's vivid eyes.
"Yup."
Cayanne crossed her arms over her chest and huffed..
Logan grinned wolfishly, then added, "Make a deal with ya, darlin'." Intrested eyes looked up at him. "You let Hank check ya out, an' talk t' Chuck - an' I'll teach ya some new moves."
"I hold you to dat!" grumbled Cayanne.
Logan lit a stogie, and grinned when the teen-ager held her nose in disgust.
"Lookin' forward to it, darlin'."