From Katherine Pryde, Paris, France, to Illyana Rasputin, Xavier House, England.
I promised to continue with my tale of that evening, and so I shall.
That kiss seemed to work wonders for Erik. I'm not bragging about any talent I might have for kissing , I'm simply stating how he acted. He climbed the steps of the hotel with brisk vigor, bowed to Madame Giry when she offered him her hand, and was introduced to Meg, who squeaked her reply. When we went in, he dealt with the doormen and the concierge with all the aplomb of a man who did so all the time.
Madame Giry hissed, as we went down the hall, "Whether it's good or it's bad, you mustn't talk about the food!" to Erik as much as to her daughter. "It's rude!"
"Why?" Meg had asked.
"Why? God above, did I raise a savage? If you praise it, that implies you weren't expecting it to be good, and if you complain, it's ingratitude."
"But what if something's really wrong with it?"
"Then tell the waiter, and not your dining companions! Kitty, this will be a—a Kosher meal, will it not, as your guardian is Jewish, too? Is there likely to be anything unusual about it?"
"No. The meats will be well-done, and there won't be any cream sauces. That's all. You'll hardly tell the difference."
We were directed to the private dining room Sir Erich had engaged, and entered to find the Professor, Jean and Auroré enjoying a pre-dinner sherry.
"Ah, good evening!" said the Professor, genially. I performed introductions, and noticed that Meg looked about to burst. Well, the only thing I had forgotten to mention was that Professor Xavier was in a wheelchair, so that meant yet another person in the party was markedly out of the ordinary.
Then Sir Erich arrived, and we sat down to eat.
The food was wonderful, of course. We had things like chicken a la Tangiers, and saffron rice dishes with pistachios and bits of dried apricots.
Jean opened the conversation by smiling, and saying, "With all the excitement before, there's a bit of news we didn't mention. Auroré got a letter in the same post as the one from Sir Erich. I'll let her tell you what it said."
Auroré cast her eyes down. "It was from Prince T'Challa—of Wakanda," she explained to Madame, Meg and Erik. "He has asked me to marry him. I haven't sent him any answer yet. In all truth, I am not sure what my reply should be—so I will tell him I must have some time in which to consider his proposal."
"That is news!" I said. "Has anyone started a page in the book yet?"
"The book in question," explained Professor Xavier, "is a betting book. As there would be wagering on the outcome of various romances whether I approved it or not, I think it better that I should supervise matters. I set limits such as the amount that can be wagered, and I further insist that all wagers must concern only decent and honorable matters—nothing salacious or scandalous."
"You seem to run quite a remarkable school," commented Madame Giry. "Certainly I have been impressed by Katherine's bearing and the extent of her education. What principles guide your courses of study and your academic mission?"
After that, it was easy. Everyone had their share in the conversation—Meg asked Auroré how she met Prince T'Challa, and if she thought she might like being a princess, Sir Erich told Erik that when he was in England to install the Professor's Danger Room, he would appreciate it if Erik stopped by his estate to see what could be done about a new manor house.
"The existing house is a disintegrating pile of rust colored brick. It's less than fifty years old, and already the drafts are terrible and the façade out of date. The interior is furnished throughout in the 'Oriental' style—which means it looks like a tasteless Turkish bath. I am perfectly sincere in this. You are the only possible architect for the job—as you are the only architect who will thoroughly comprehend certain special features which I desire in a new dwelling."
This I took to mean that because Erik was one of the Evolved, Sir Erich could request corridors and spaces which were designed especially to accommodate certain powers—like Kurt's gym set-up.
"I can look at the site." agreed Erik.
"I may not be there for the construction, depending on when you can begin." frowned Sir Erich. "I shall be traveling in Austria for several months in the spring—on business, not pleasure."
"What sort of business?" asked Madame Giry.
"It is a matter of a—legacy." Sir Erich said, choosing his words with care. "I am searching for a particular family by the surname of Hitler—whose youngest son will bear—I mean, who bears the name of Adolph. I am especially anxious to locate them by summer at the very latest."
"What happens then? Does the legacy pass to another?" inquired Madame.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. Come April 20th, the interest which I have in this family begins to escalate at an alarming rate."
He said the words as lightly and pleasantly as possible, as if it were as natural as anything—when I knew, as did the Professor, Jean, and Auroré—that he was talking about his plan, his stated intent, to kill a newborn baby—Adolph Hitler, who will otherwise, as we know, grow up to instigate the wholesale slaughter of millions.
"The interest--? Oh, you mean the accumulated interest on the account will grow. I understand." nodded Madame Giry.
"Now, Erich." chided Professor Xavier. "You know it will be many years before—before the fund matures and the penalty becomes unavoidable. There is a great deal of time."
"But by then, you and I may well be dead—and our heirs will be left to pay the price, which by then will be tremendous. I prefer to discharge my obligations in this matter before then—before the penalty grows into the millions. It is far too high a price to pay. I consider this a responsibility, my responsibility."
"Yes, but at what cost to the Hitler family?" countered the Professor. "Have some compassion for them—defer the payment some years."
"The longer I put off what must be done, Charles, the worse I shall sleep at night. I think you do not appreciate the seriousness of this—but then, some millions of this will be mine, and not yours." He meant that not only would the Evolved die—but that several million Jews would die. They were what was Sir Erich's, and not the Professor's.
Madame Giry, sensing the deadly tension that had fallen over them, asked of Sir Erich, tentatively, "Sir Charles is a trustee for this legacy, but it is your duty to see that it is paid out without hardship to your bank and your shareholders?"
"That is a very good way of putting it, Madame." replied Sir Erich.
"And you, sir," she said, turning to Professor Xavier. "You want to see to it that the Hitler family is left as well off as possible."
"You have it." The Professor spread his hands. "As you can see, we are at odds over it. I do not deny the serious nature of my friend's obligation. I merely want him to show some forbearance—which he can do without incurring any injury."
Sir Erich said, in tones which were all ice, "I fear your compassion may be the ruin of us all, Charles."
"There you have the difference between us. You fear, and I hope. Let us talk of matters less controversial, and less weighty—and make them ones in which our friends can share." Professor Xavier turned to Meg.
"Mademoiselle Giry, perhaps you can advise me in a small matter. All of the students at my school must wear uniforms, which are serviceable and practical, but not, I fear, very pretty. Several of my young lady pupils have complained to me about them. Judging by your taste, you are just the person who can suggest to me some changes that can be made."
Meg said, startled, "Oh! Well, all the dancers in training at the opera wear uniforms, too. When I was one of them, I wore the uniform, too. We couldn't make any big changes, but we were allowed to do little things, like make pretty collars and cuffs for our blouses…"
We managed to avoid any more dangerous topics of conversation for the rest of the meal, which was a proper five course meal, with the dessert course laid out on a separate table –rather more elegant than our meals at the school!
Every so often, Erik would look my way, and give me that shy new smile again—the one I first saw on his face after we kissed—and drat it all, it gave me that funny little stomach lurch every single time!
I bid Erik goodbye at the hotel, as he said he was going to make his own way home, so we stole a moment in the dining room.
I said. "Erik—thank you. I'm proud to count several brave men among my friends—but the courage you summoned up for me, for my sake, tonight—leaves them all behind."
"I" He began, and then, I swear it, Illyana, he blushed. "I learned it from your lips. Kiss me again, and who knows what further feats I might accomplish?"
"Perhaps I should give you another. On account." I was being playful, and then he stepped forward with this bright, eager hope dawning on his face…
So we wound up having our second kiss, right there by the dessert table. He remembered not to grab me—instead he took my face in his hands, touching me with just his fingertips.
It is clear to me that kissing Erik has entered my repertoire. I wonder how long it will stay there.
Your friend,
Kitty