*Chapter 19*
~Nightcrawler Found~
It was dark, quiet, and very cold. That's all he knew. He didn't know where he was or how he got there, but that didn't matter. He couldn't quite remember his name either, he knew he had one, but at the moment, it eluded him. Actually, he didn't remember anything; it was just outside of his reach. But that didn't really bother him. What did bother was the darkness and the cold and he couldn't feel anything either.
Then he became dimly aware of a light. At least he thought it was a light. The pale gray shadow slowly flickered and grew in his private sea of darkness and he imagined that he felt a faint warmth radiating from it. After an immeasurable stretch of time, he became aware of his body again. He felt numb, but at least he felt something. Sometime later, he remembered his name. Robert Drake, Bobby, the Iceman, one of the Cursed.
Now that he knew who he was, he began to wonder where he was exactly. The first place he remembered was a one-room, dirt-floored hut situated near the edge of a small village of about fifteen families. The space around the hut was littered with scraps of wood used to fashion chairs, tables, and carts. After much thought he decided this wasn't where he was, he had left his home village years before.
The next place that came to mind was a massive stone manor that stood alone on a moor. It was made of cold gray granite and pale limestone. Some sections of its walls were covered with creeping vines and ivy. He remembered long twisting hallways, high cavernous halls, and many, many different rooms. A long line of faces rushed through his memory, men and women, boys and girls. One beautiful young woman stood out to him, though he couldn't recall why or what her name was. He thought hard about this place but decided he wasn't there either, he remembered leaving a few months ago to find something.
The next few places he remembered blurred together so he must not have been in those places for very long. A boat, French villages, Paris, more French villages, and flashes of forest in-between each one. Four faces from the stone manor followed him through this journey and a fifth joined from Paris. One of those faces happened to be that one special girl. He thought harder about these people trying to remember them for they seemed important to him, that one girl in particular.
An eternity later a word, no a name, came to him. Kitty. An invisible damn shattered and a flood of memories overwhelmed him. And with the memories came the pain. Every time he had sought her company, her favor, she rejected him and it hurt every time. Still he persisted, driven by his feelings for her and hope that someday she would feel the same. He would still be trying if not for her revealing that she was already married to some one else. And that revelation had hurt the most of all.
Bobby slowly curled his numb body in on itself, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the waves of pain. He would not cry. No matter how much it hurt he refused to give in to the childish urge to cry. His raw throat already swollen tightened further and an invisible weight settled on his chest stealing away his breath and still he fought off the sobs buried deep inside. He hated himself for being so weak, so pathetic, that his own pain and grief could immobilize him this way. And he hated her for being so beautiful and perfect, for leading him on and then hurting him so.
Bobby froze. Do I really hate her? His tense body slowly relaxed. No he didn't. Even now, despite it all, he couldn't bring himself to hate her. With a deep shuddering sigh, Bobby finally attempted to open his eyes to discover his fate. First, firelight blinded his unfocused eyes. Then, when his vision adjusted to the glare, the water of unshed tears kept him blind to his surroundings. After he blinked them away and his sight came into focus he saw something most unexpected.
There, across the small campfire from him, was a genuine demon. There was no way that it could possibly be anything else. Its form was vaguely similar to a man's though its crouch suggested an animal. It wore human clothes, but they were obviously modified for the long, flexible, whip-like devil tail that he saw writhing behind it. The thing was covered from head to toe to demon tail in fur similar to Lord McCoy's only it was shorter and almost indigo in color. The creature, while not having actual hooves, had cloven feet and hands, if they were hands, that were not covered by any sort of shoe or glove. The demon's face would've looked very much like a man's if it hadn't been covered in that indigo-bluish fur. A pair of pointed, almost elf-like ears poked up out of its long-ish blue-black hair and a sharp, bone-white fang curved out over its lower lip. But the most terrifying feature of the demon before him was its eyes. They glowed an inhuman amber-gold as they bored straight into his soul. Bobby could only think of one explanation for what he was seeing.
"Oh God, I'm in Hell."
***
The Cursed individual who Bobby mistook for a demon was irritated. He had gone to all this trouble to save this young stranger's life and he thought he'd died and gone to Hell. True his appearance gave most people the idea that he was from Hell, but this was the first time someone thought that they were suddenly now in Hell. Really, if he was in Hell he wouldn't have been blissfully unconscious for so long, the instant he arrived there he would've been put through some unending torture that somehow connected to whatever sins he committed while alive. He stupid was this boy anyway?
Then he realized something. The boy had spoken in English. Last he knew he was in das Saarland, part of the Germanic States where Deutsch was the spoken language. So what was an English speaker doing all the way out here? And what on Earth had he been doing in the Mosel? Both were very good questions, but should he ask them first or correct him as to his current location? Seeing the boy's sad, resigned look he decided on the latter course of action.
"No, you aren't in Hell, you are in das Saarland." He stated, internally wincing at how strong his Germanic accent sounded to his own ears.
"You speak English?" The English boy asked disbelievingly.
"Yes, I do." The Cursed German calmly confirmed. The English boy could only stare blankly back at him in shock as his mind slowly wrapped around this concept. He didn't seem to be succeeding. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to stare?" He growled, hoping to jar the English boy out of his shocked stupor.
"Oh, uh, s-sorry." The English boy stammered looking very embarrassed. "So...are you Cursed?" The boy nervously asked.
"Ja, yes I am." The German replied. He was surprised; no one had ever thought to ask him that. In fact, few who ever saw him thought to ask him anything, they usually just screamed and ran away. This boy's reaction made him wonder. "Are you Cursed?" He asked curiously.
"Yes I am." The English boy replied almost cheerfully.
"So Junge, what is your name?" The Cursed German asked politely.
"Robert Drake, but most call me Bobby or Iceman." The English boy, Bobby, responded.
"Iceman?" The German asked.
"Just a little nickname I came up with for myself. It fits me perfectly because I control ice." Bobby proudly replied.
"Sehr interessant. If I may ask, what is a nice Cursed English boy like you doing alone and so far away from home?" The German demon wondered.
"I'm not alone, or at least I wasn't." Bobby mumbled quietly. "And I'm here looking for something." He added carefully.
"What are you looking for?" The false demon inquired.
"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to tell you more than that." Bobby nervously answered after a moment of thought. "What's your name?" Iceman asked before the blue-furred demon could press him further on the subject.
This particular question put the German demon in something of a bind. It was very dangerous for him to reveal his name to anyone for if the wrong people learned of him, he and those who knew him would be doomed. But if he didn't tell Bobby his name how could they talk to each other effectively? Yes it was a very complicated problem indeed.
"You don't want to tell me do you." Bobby stated.
"No I don't." The German sighed.
"That's alright, I think I understand." Bobby replied. They sat in silence gazing into the flickering campfire. Then Bobby appeared to get an idea. "I know, I'll give you a nickname!" He exclaimed. "May I?" Bobby asked as an after thought.
"Sure, why not?" The German replied. Bobby nodded to himself and began to study the false demon intently. After many uncomfortable minutes he seemed to have come to a decision.
"After much thinking I believe I have found a solution." Iceman declared. After a moment's pause to add dramatic effect he continued. "I dub thee Nightcrawler!" He enthusiastically exclaimed.
"Nightcrawler?" Where did that come from? The German wondered.
"Yes, you look like something that crawled out of a nightmare hence the name Nightcrawler." Bobby proudly explained. "Uh, no offense intended." He hastily added after noticing the demon's blank expression.
"None taken." Nightcrawler replied reassuringly.
They lapsed into silence again, staring into the fire and mulling over their own thoughts. The newly dubbed Nightcrawler considered his next move. He'd already taken a huge risk in pulling Bobby's half-frozen body from the Mosel's bank and warming him by the fire. Now that the boy was conscious what should he do about him? Could he afford to risk helping him any further? Or should he find the next best opportunity to slip away and leave the boy to his own devices? Then he remembered something.
"You said that you weren't alone, who else is there?" Nightcrawler asked startling the boy who sat across from him.
"Oh, uh, five others." Iceman quickly answered.
"Could you tell me about them?" Nightcrawler inquired.
"Well there's Remy Lebeau, he's a Cursed thief we met in Paris and joined up with us when we got him into trouble. There's Logan, a Cursed man with no past and magicked star metal claws. Piotr is a Cursed Russian soldier who get very lost a while back. Jean is a Cursed mind-witch who left her family behind to come with us. And...and then there's Kitty." Bobby's voice caught as he mentioned the last name and his mood fell considerably.
"How do you plan to meet up with these friends of yours again?" Nightcrawler asked.
"I don't know. I guess I'll just walk back upstream and see what I can find." Bobby despondently sighed.
There was a lot going on here that Nightcrawler knew nothing about and he found it more than a little worrying. But at the same time it was also very intriguing. It had been a long time since he met anyone who was half as interesting as Bobby and his mysterious little group. True he would be taking a huge risk if he helped this boy any more but he had been so lonely and bored for so long it was more than worth it. Not to mention it was the nice thing to do.
"Would you like me to help you?" Nightcrawler offered. This caught Bobby's attention.
"You'll help me find my friends?" Iceman asked.
"Yes, I've nothing better to do." Nightcrawler answered.
"Really?" Bobby half-whispered. Nightcrawler nodded. Yes he would help this poor lost English boy find his friends. As he said he had nothing better to do at the moment and it promised to be something of an adventure. And an adventure sounded pretty good to him right now...