The Boogie Man

Sequel to Kittens Have Claws, Too. Victor, Katherine, Tayla and Mystique discover the secret to helping keep female ferals alive…But will nightmares be the setback for an old friend, or will her personal Boogie Man be the one to save her soul.

I DON'T own them…at this point I wish I did…I would put them all out to pasture and go on with my LIFE…SOMEONE get Victor Creed OUT of my head. Wait, never mind. (Victor muse purring in the background as he throws back the covers on the bed…) I am going to pet the kitty while you guys enjoy the story.

Chapter 17

Black. He hated black. He HATED Kitten in black. He wanted to growl and claw and rip that rag off of her body. Instead he sat quietly in the pew, and held her hand. David and Diane were in the row in front of them, DJ and his girlfriend and her two kids taking up the rest of the small pew in the private chapel of the mansion.

They'd all agreed to hold the funeral here, bury Megan here in Westchester instead of taking her back to Colorado. Victor had grumbled last night, begging Kitten to wear anything but that dress. He HATED that dress. She wore it when they lost one of the girls – he didn't want her wearing it for her sister.

He hated funerals more than he hated the dress. They just didn't make sense to him. The person was dead for crying out loud, decaying meat that needed to be gotten rid of. He'd gotten used to them, but still didn't understand them. The small chapel was full, mostly because of the size. Several people had flown out from Colorado, Megan's friends from school, friends of the family. He hadn't seen Al, and was grateful for that. That was a confrontation he didn't want to deal with at the moment.

Kat was crying again. He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. He didn't know why he carried them – except for when she needed one. Ten years with her and she still didn't remember to carry a handkerchief in her pocket. He almost growled again – but held it in. She hated it when he growled at funerals.

He glanced around the small chapel. The X-Geeks were there, out of respect, but he didn't see Logan. Tayla on his other side, and he slipped her a handkerchief too. Damn it that was the Runt's job now, not his. He was going to skin Wolverine alive when this was over. He tried to glance around without being too obvious. Nope, the Runt was no where to be seen.

The funeral dragged on and on, and finally they were able to leave the chapel while they loaded the casket into the hearse and the family loaded into the limousine to go to the cemetery. He looked around as they left the mansion, still no sign of the Runt. He was going to KILL him when they got back.

XXXXXXXX

Logan hurried up the stairs, uniform clinging to his body. He was late. Tayla was going to kill him. Things were finally looking up, and he had to be late for a funeral because some kid skinned his knee, and blew up a five mile area in the damned desert. The kid lived outside Las Vegas for crying out loud, it wasn't like he would actually HURT anything until after the funeral, but no Chuck had to send him out first thing.

He was trying to get his tie tied while running back down the stairs as the cavalcade pulled out for the cemetery – well shit. He was in hot water now. He didn't even know the girl, just that she was Creed's wife's sister, but he would catch all kind of hell from Creed, and Kat and worst of all Tayla for missing it.

After the battle he'd managed to crawl in bed, and slept for twelve hours straight. He'd gotten up the next morning and found Creed standing outside his door, arms crossed across his chest, glaring at him.

Creed had lectured him about Tayla – like he had room to talk – and basically said if she ever told him she was unhappy – then all bets were off, and Creed was coming after him, both barrels blazing, like Logan gave a shit if Creed came after him or not.

"SHIT!" He muttered as he ran out the back porch, trying to catch one of the last cars.

"Yeah – I got here late too; missed the whole thing." A man behind him said.

"My girlfriend's gonna kill me." Logan muttered.

"Sounds like you need a drink." The man said.

"I need my head examined." Logan chuckled.

"So did your girlfriend know Megan?"

"Yeah, I think; more along the lines of a friend of the family." Logan turned to the man. He was older, grey flecking his curly black hair, his dark skin hiding the wrinkles.

"You want that drink, I have beer stashed?" Logan asked.

"Sure, I certainly could use to fortify my courage a little." The older man said. Logan ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple beers from his private stash.

"You just here for the funeral?" He asked as he came back out on the porch.

"Yeah." He said as he choked down the first sip of beer. "What about you?"

"I teach here." Logan said.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"This place is really a school?"

"Yep." Logan took a long gulp of beer.

"I have to admit I've been impressed. Never knew anyplace like this existed before." They sat there quietly, watching some of the kids horsing around in the unseasonably warm weather by the pool.

"It's something else, that's for sure, never have to worry about the weather with Ororo around." Logan grinned at him. The two men laughed.

"What's with all the construction on the front?"

"Unwelcome guests a couple days ago – cleanup." Logan said.

"Ah – that whole battle thing I saw on television."

"Yep."

"Were you there?"

"Inside – protecting the kids."

The older man just nodded and took another drink of his beer. Logan heard the sounds of cars coming back from the graveside.

"I need ta duck inside, see if I can catch my girlfriend and apologize." He said with a smile.

"Good luck with that – I always found that apologies only went so far with my wife, groveling worked better, groveling with presents worked best." The man held up the beer bottle in a salute. "Name's Al by the way."

Logan opened the door to the building, before replying. "Logan." He closed the door behind him and went looking for Tayla.

XXXXXXX

She found her father on the back porch of the school, glaring at a bottle of Logan's beer. She wondered how he'd found it.

"Dad."

"Tayla." He said softly.

"Glad you could make it." She said stiffly. She hadn't seen him in over ten years; the last time they'd spoken he'd told her he didn't want anything to do with the demon spawn she was carrying.

"Good beer." He said.

"It's Logan's."

"I know – I met him." He said, the corners of his mouth twisted down in a scowl.

"When?"

"He left a little bit ago – looking for you I think. I didn't even know who he was – until he left."

"I'm not surprised, it's been thirty years." She said sharply.

Just then the door opened behind her.

"There you are. I'm sorry about the funeral." Logan said, walking up to her. "Charles…"

"It's okay Logan. This is my father, Al Jackson."

"We met earlier." He said holding his hand out to the judge. Al just glared at him.

"Good beer." He said.

"Glad you liked it, there's more in the fridge if you want." Logan said, dropping his hand to his side.

"No thanks, I need to be going – I was just going to say hello to David and Diane before I left, give them my condolences." He turned on his heel, dropping the half full bottle of beer in the trash can.

"I'm sorry Logan."

"Not your fault he's a fuckin' ass." Logan slipped an arm around her waist, and nuzzled her hair.

She leaned against him. It felt safe here. The sudden blow from behind startled them both.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DAUGHTER!" Her father was standing there, a broken broom handle in his hands, the shattered pieces lying on the floor, splinters working their way out of Logan's shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH MY MATE!" Tayla snapped, popping her claws and shoving them right in her father's face, holding them about an inch from his nose. "You might be my father, but I'll still gut you."

Her father backed up, shocked, and the sharp smell of urine filled the air. He backed up and quickly left the porch, not even going back inside the house, he ran around the corner, and Tayla doubted she would ever see him again.

"Don't touch my mate?" Logan said.

"Shut up." She growled.

"Nope – I liked the sound of that." He smiled, tilting her chin up to kiss her.

"Don't get cocky."

"How about caveman." He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

XXXXXXXX

Kat was leaning against the window frame, looking out at the woods behind the school. Victor was off somewhere, probably with her parents. Part of her wanted to crawl in a hole and die, she felt so guilty for feeling relieved about Megan. She loved her sister, but now she wouldn't have to worry about her rising up and biting them in the ass again. She'd been looking over her shoulder for the last ten years, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been her one fear – that Megan would come back, and somehow prove that Victor had lied to her that night – that he had slept with Megan first. She KNEW better, but there was still that little part of her that was still seventeen again – and insecure, and needed to know he loved her.

She heard the door open behind her, but didn't turn. He walked over and slipped his arms around her waist.

"Baby, you need some rest, you haven't slept well the last couple nights." He whispered against her hair, she could feel his face rubbing against her hair.

"I'm fine. How's Tayla? I saw Judge Jackson hightailing it out of here in his rental car." She said.

"I didn't even know Al was here. Never saw him today."

"I think he got here late."

"Well he ain't the only one, Runt missed things too."

"Yeah – Charles sent him on a mission." She said softly.

"You knew?"

"Yes."

"So what now?"

"Well – FoH is out of the picture for a while, and we won't have to worry about Erik any time soon, so we can go back home, set up the compound again." He said.

"I'd like to go home, but what about Tayla?"

"There's such a thing as video conferencing, and cell phones. She and the Runt need some time, and Hank's really interested in what we are doing. I think the kids would like to go home."

"Think there are any of those tiles from Pompeii left?" She said leaning back against his strong chest.

"If not – by God, I'll go to Pompeii and pick a new mosaic."

"I miss my mermaid." She whispered.

"I miss mine – but a change of clothes will fix that." He whispered.

"Victor."

"There's a heated pool down there – and I can scare the kids away."

She chuckled. "I want my own pool."

"I miss the house." He whispered.

"I'm shocked – my Tom Cat is sounding very domesticated."

"I'm still your Tom Cat." He chuckled, brushing the evidence of that against her back.

"Victor."

"I know – not the right time." She turned in his arms and slipped her arms around his neck.

"It's never the wrong time – not for us." She smiled, kissing him.

"Baby, I'm taking you home." He whispered against her lips. "I want my cub born at home."

"So do I." He picked her up and carried her to the bed. She knew she should stop him, but somehow the thought didn't create a whole lot of action. He lay down next to her, stroking her hair.

"Get some sleep, Kitten." He whispered. "We have all the time in the world."

She closed her eyes, curled against his side, with his broad chest as her pillow, and his heartbeat as her lullaby drifted off to sleep.