Chapter Eleven

After Scott left the room, Ororo pushed her chair back from the conference table and opened the large window, briefly closing her eyes as the refreshing breeze brushed against her face. Her garden was just visible from this vantage point, as was the large oak tree where they had found Kurt the night before.

Ororo leaned forward slightly as she tried to locate the spot where he had been lying. The sedative Hank had given Kurt that morning would be wearing off in about an hour. He would probably be disoriented, even frightened, and she didn't want him waking up alone.

Movement caught her eye, and she blinked, surprised to see a rather large, black goat staring up at her from the lawn by her garden. She squinted a little, wondering where it could have come from, when she noticed something very odd. It was probably just the way the goat was standing in relation to the sun, but to Ororo's eyes it seemed the shadow cast by the animal was not that of a goat, but of a man.

She shivered, about to alert the others, but the goat gave a soft bleat, the sunlight making its dark eyes appear to take on a reddish gleam. It lowered its gaze and wandered away and, as it did, Ororo turned from the window, all thoughts of warning gone from her mind. Without a word, she strode across the room and out the door.

Hank looked to the Professor, a question in his expression - a question Erik voiced first.

"And where is she off to in such a hurry?" the imposing mutant demanded.

"I'm not sure," Xavier said, his brow furrowed. "I sensed a spike of apprehension from her, and then...nothing." He frowned, steepling his fingers before him. "Perhaps she—"

"Professor, we may have a problem!"

It was Scott's voice, piping in over the intercom, his voice hard with urgency.

"Scott, where are you?" Xavier asked. "Have you found Jean?"

"I'm just entering the medbay," Scott reported. "Oh, God..."

"What is it, Scott?" Hank said, already rising to his feet.

"It's Jean," he responded tersely. "She's here, but she's unconscious. And, our guest seems to be having some kind of fit. He's unconscious too - I think - but he can't seem to keep still, and these machines he's hooked up to are going crazy!"

"We'll be down momentarily, Scott," Xavier announced, backing his chair away from the table and wheeling toward the door, Hank and Erik close behind. "Do not lower the force field. Erik," he said, turning his head to face his old friend as they hurried down the corridor, "I'd appreciate it if you would boot up Cerebro for me - just in case. I've a feeling we may need to put a few of your recent modifications to the test."

Erik nodded curtly, peeling away down an adjacent corridor as Hank and the Professor packed themselves into the elevator bound for the medbay.


Brunetto's laboratory was little more than a cramped, cluttered room at the back of his tiny house. The tall man stood in the far corner, hunched over a narrow table painted with various symbols and runes.

Kurt frowned from the dark corner where he and Jean were concealed.

"What is it?" Jean asked, trying to see what he was frowning at.

"That pentagram," he whispered back, uncertain whether Brunetto could sense them or not. "And those strange runes..."

His eyes narrowed, growing distant with memory.

"I've seen them before...when I was a child. I remember - my foster mother, Margali, she had runes like that painted on the table where she sat when she told people their fortunes. She told me they were part of a spell of summoning, that she used them to summon spirits to help her in her work."

He leaned back against the wall, casting a quick glance at Jean. His intense, dark eyes burned into hers, his lean, pale features tight with apprehension. Both of them were still in disguise, and Jean had to be very careful not to let her long skirts rustle as she moved to lean beside him.

"What do you think he's doing?" she asked as they watched Brunetto open a cloth bag and begin removing a number of bright stones of the deepest red, arranging them in a careful pattern on the painted pentagram.

Kurt shook his head distractedly, his attention focused fully on Brunetto and his stones.

Brunetto began to speak, and a flurry of movement drew Jean's eyes to a large, black bird perched in the wooden cage on the shelf above the table. It peered down at Brunetto through sharp, beady eyes, looking almost as though it could understand his words.

"I know I can't put this off any longer, my friend," he said to the bird. "The appointed time is swiftly approaching, and yet I hesitate."

He pushed away from his table, striding across the small space to room's only window. His profile was little more than a silhouette among the shadows, but his dark eyes glittered in the fading sunlight.

"I have done everything the demon has asked of me so far. I have ingratiated myself to Beatrice, acted the fool for her amusement. She suspects nothing. There are even times when I...when I think she might like me."

He chuckled softly, but it sounded more like a sob.

"Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into!"

He clawed a hand through his dark hair, his thin nostrils flaring as he fought to reign in his emotions.

"I know what the Elder Gods expect of me, but when I made this bargain I never thought...I never..."

He turned to face his bird, his anguish plain to see.

"I never believed any woman could touch me. I always prided myself on my control, knowing I am ruled by my head rather than my heart. But, the way she looks at me, Tanaquil...her sly little smile... She makes me 'feel', as I have never felt before. I am more 'alive' in her presence; colors are brighter, sounds more resonant." He smiled; a soft, distant quirk of his lips. "She is like an angel, my friend, her every smile a sweet benediction warming my frosted soul."

Tanaquil gave a low squawk, ruffling her feathers as she shifted position on her perch.

Brunetto frowned.

"I know, I know," he said, firmly schooling his features. "I'm being ridiculous. Next thing you know, I'll be spouting poetry; as hopeless a romantic as old Dante." He smirked with an air of superior disdain. "No, my friend, this is not a time for sentiment. I must maintain my control; detach myself from the crude emotions she stirs in me. The bloodstones are in place, and the Elder Gods wait to hear of my progress. I have upheld my part of the bargain. It's time to see if they will keep theirs."

The bird squawked again, tilting her head at him and snapping her beak. Brunetto smiled; a cold, hungry grin.

"Just think of it, Tanaquil," he said, his dark eyes glittering. "All the knowledge, all the power of the supernatural is nearly within my grasp. No more guesswork, no more theorizing, no more laborious experimentation... The mysteries of the universe will unlock for me, and only for me!"

He cackled a laugh that put Kurt in mind of Vincent Price, or Christopher Lee. Jean shivered, leaning against Kurt's arm as Brunetto went on.

"To have all my questions answered, to finally know the truth... It would be worth any price, would it not?" he asked the bird. "And what is Beatrice to me, anyway? She is a married woman and, even if she were not, a woman like that would never consider me as a serious suitor. I have no money, no family - I can't even point out my natural father with any real confidence. Anything I may feel for Beatrice is merely wishful thinking on my part, and I have never been one to fall victim to such foolish delusions. Besides," he added, some of the confidence slipping from his tone, "whatever the Elder Gods want with her, I'm sure they wouldn't harm her. Otherwise, why go through all the trouble of getting me to become so friendly with her?"

Tanaquil didn't answer; more intent on preening her feathers than assuaging Brunetto's uncertainty. It didn't matter anyway, because that uncertainty soon passed. Brunetto clutched the edge of his lab table, his dark eyes hard with renewed purpose.

"I once told Dante I would willingly spend an eternity in hell if the Devil answered my questions," he said, staring down at the carefully arranged bloodstones, his pulse beginning to quicken. "And it's true. If that is the cost of ultimate understanding, I am ready to pay."

He shot his pet raven a quick flash of a smile, then lowered his head and splayed his fingers above the stones.

"Well, Tanaquil, there's no turning back now," he said, his voice as steady as his hands. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath, then spoke a short incantation:

"Veni mihi, Azazel!"

The bloodstones flashed once, then began to glow with an intense light that only grew brighter as they cast a sparkling pattern of light against the ceiling.

Brunetto lowered his hands and took a step back, his features composed and his expression calm. He had made his choice, confident he could handle the consequences it would bring.

The sparkling, red lights began to spin and whirl, deepening and thickening until they created a physical vortex. As it grew, a strange, smoky landscape came into view, barren and rocky, bathed in a reddish light that reflected dimly off the thick, sulfurous clouds hanging heavily in the sky. An ancient, crumbling castle loomed in the near distance, majestic yet terrifying. with narrow, fang-like spires that thrust upward into the gloom.

Kurt couldn't contain a sharp gasp as he realized he recognized that structure, and the lean, armored man standing on the drawbridge. He knew that deep, red skin, the devilish goatee, the cold, smug gleam of triumph in his fierce, yellow eyes...

"Greetings, Azazel," Brunetto said with a polite bow.

"Brunetto Donati." The demon grinned, his sharp, white teeth flashing as he rode the widening portal down the wall to the floor. "Right on time, as I had expected. Tell me," he said, his intense eyes darkening. "How goes things with the lovely Beatrice?"

"Extremely well," Brunetto reported, his stance bordering on cocky as he looked Azazel straight in the eye, refusing to be intimidated by the powerful being he knew as the leader of the Elder Gods. "We have become quite friendly over the past few months. Everything is working out exactly as you predicted."

Azazel's grin broadened, his eyes alight with something like pride.

"I knew you would not disappoint me," he said, reaching for something out of sight beyond the vortex. "And, now, I expect you are waiting to see if I will fulfill my part of the bargain."

"That's right," Brunetto said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, never fear, my son," the demon said, holding a large, steaming goblet out for Brunetto to take. It seemed to be carved from the same dull, red rock that dominated the landscape behind him.

"Take this goblet and drink the contents," he instructed, pushing his hand through the whirling portal with some difficulty. "By this action, you will seal our pact and gain the power you desire. Only then can I begin to impart to you the knowledge that you seek."

Brunetto stared at the smoking goblet for a long moment, swallowing a deep shudder. Then he squared his shoulders, reaching out to take it from Azazel.

"What is this?" he grimaced, his nose wrinkling at the sharp, bitter smell of the smoking drink.

"It is merely a catalyst, based on a formula discovered by one Henry McCoy several centuries from now," Azazel explained, enjoying the thoroughly lost look on Brunetto's face. "It will cause a reaction in your system that will activate the dormant mutant gene you inherited from me."

The demon smiled, his hard expression as close to reassuring as he could make it.

"Drink it, Brunetto," he urged, "and everything I just said will become clear to you."

Brunetto raised the goblet to his lips, then hesitated, peering at the demon over the rim.

"What will happen once I drink this?" he asked, his hands shaking slightly as he struggled to maintain his resolve. "What will it do to me?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure," Azazel admitted, his expression softening even further. "Mutant manifestation varies from individual to individual. But it should be quite interesting to find out."

"What do you mean?" Brunetto demanded.

"Just drink," the demon ordered, "and you will have your answer."

Brunetto swallowed hard, then nodded. Squeezing his eyes closed, he drained the goblet, gasping slightly as he dropped it to the floor, then clutched his hand to his throat.

"Madre di Dio!" he exclaimed, his eyes tearing up as he doubled over in pain. "Oh, God, it hurts! What have you done to me?"

"Yes," Azazel said with false sympathy. "It will hurt. But the pain will pass, believe me."

Brunetto reached out blindly for the support of his table, but he collapsed to the floor before he could reach it, curling into a tight ball as he writhed in pain. Azazel just watched, coldly, clinically, the smallest of smiles twisting his lips as Brunetto's eyes shot wide open. Their dark irises were gone now, obscured by bright, glowing yellow. His pale, flushed face was deepening in color, becoming nearly as red as Azazel's own skin.

"I'm proud of you, my son," the demon said, amused and delighted as a long, spade-tipped tail made its appearance, lashing violently in a reflection of Brunetto's abject, screaming agony. "You alone, out of all my children, have never yet failed me. Finally, after all these centuries of waiting and scheming, I shall finally return to rule my earth. And you will be my instrument. Let us hope that you continue to serve me as successfully now that it matters most, my brave, loyal Belasco."

Chuckling to himself, Azazel pressed a palm against the thin barrier separating his dimension from Earth, testing its strength. Brunetto's summons had managed to bring the two dimensional planes close enough together for the demon to cross from one to the other, but that rare proximity would not last long. He would have to work fast if he was to accomplish his goal before the dimensions parted and he found himself ripped back to the hot, barren pit that had served as his prison for so many centuries.

Stepping gracefully into Brunetto's cramped, cluttered lab, Azazel pressed a button on his thick belt. The dusty air around him shimmered as his form and clothing began to change. A moment later, he had become the spitting image of Brunetto Donati - before he ingested Azazel's formula. Taking a moment to check his appearance in the small mirror he kept in his pocket, Azazel smoothed his dark hair, then casually stepped over his screaming son, leaving him to endure the pain of his transformation alone, except for Tanaquil's agitated shrieks and the unnoticed company of two stunned eavesdroppers.

To Be Continued...


Notes:

Apart from the bit about Belasco using bloodstones to make a Faustian bargain with the Elder Gods and Azazel's otherdimensional 'realm', everything in this chapter was made up. I inserted Azazel into Belasco's backstory, made up Brunetto's 'mutant manifestation', and I named Brunetto's pet raven Tanaquil after the wife of Tarquin, Rome's fifth king, known for her prophetic abilities. He had to exposit to somebody, why not a raven? :)