Here's the next chapter; just to warn you, it might take me a while to update this fic with the 5th part since I'm pretty busy with my thesis right now but worry not for I will NOT abandon the fic. Anyways, enjoy this chapter now :)
There's someone by his door, ringing the bell insistently, and Charles glances at the clock which shows that the hour is half past four in the morning.
Well, this is certainly an unnatural occurrence.
He hasn't the slightest idea as to who it might be; Raven has keys to his place, his students surely wouldn't visit him at this ungodly hour and, simply put, he just isn't sociable enough for random visits of friends to be justified like that, right in the middle of a Sunday night.
Bewildered, he approaches the door and stands on his toes, carefully peeking through the tiny peep hole and trying not to make any noise in the process. The image is blurry but he thinks he sees someone with blond hair, their left hand poised and ready to ring the bell one more time.
With a huff, Charles takes a small step back to unlock and open his door which reveals what can only be described as trouble. Tall, wavy blond hair to the shoulders, wearing a short white pea coat and black leather boots up to the knee, the woman in front of him excludes an air of dangerousness out from her every pore.
"..Hello?" Charles asks regardless, because even in the face of danger, his upbringing and right manners come first. "How can I help you?"
The woman – no, not a woman; this has, quite obviously, not been a woman for a very long time- raises an eyebrow and with a flat voice, inquires, "Charles Xavier?"
Charles blinks and nods cautiously.
"Yes, I am Charles Xavier. And you are..."
"My name is Emma Frost," she starts, her tone business-like, "my partner and I have been following your research through your fascinating but rather sporadic publications and we are interested in a further discussion concerning the subject."
Charles definitely isn't expecting that. To be honest, he doesn't know what he was expecting. However, a fellow vampire actually being interested in his research and not dismissing it as a child's wild dream…this was quite heartening news.
"Of course, I'd be glad to talk more in length about my research with you and your partner, Ms Frost," Charles says slowly, "would you like to come in-"
"I think it will be best if you accompany me to my partner's estate" Emma Frost cuts in smoothly, "he's been expecting you and will be most pleased if you could come with me."
The way she says it sounds quite simple and innocent but Charles can't help but feel like her words have a double meaning, like they hide something sinister behind, in case of a rejection.
But Charles is curious by nature, so, of course he accepts the invitation.
x0x0x0x0x
The ride is uneventful, though the route they follow is unknown to Charles, who, after living in this relatively small town for almost half the years of his human age, thought he knew every little road and corner of the place.
Their driver is a mute man –at least, Charles seems to thinks so, since the man in question hasn't uttered a word from the moment Charles and Ms Frost entered the car- named Janos who doesn't spare a glance to either of them as they take their seats at the back of the car and only nods once when Ms Frost says "To the estate, Janos."
The 'estate' is a magnificent looking building, all fine glasses and pure white marble walls. The land surrounding it is a beautifully styled garden with thick green grass and an impregnable looking fence out of sturdy, tall trees and brown-leaved bushes.
Charles is ushered inside the main entrance, a spacious room in all pale tapestries with inox window shields and snow white marble floors, when Ms Frost gently touches his arm and guides him towards a room on their right direction which is covered with mirrors everywhere the eye can catch, even the ceiling.
The point of having mirrors in this particular building, which so obviously belongs to a high class vampire, is lost on Charles, since no one of the current people present can see their reflections on them, but he keeps quiet.
A man waits inside the room, sitting behind a crystal clear office, his eyes cold even though his mouth is smiling slightly as he stands up to greet Charles. He is impeccably dressed in an ash-grey suit and his palm feels feather-light to Charles when he grips Charles' hand.
"Mr. Xavier, I am glad to finally meet you." The man gestures to a black sofa in front of his office and Charles takes a seat. "I'm Sebastian Shaw. I trust Emma spoke to you about why you are here?"
"She did mention something about my research and your apparent interest in it…?" Charles says while watching Sebastian Shaw walking to a min-bar set at the back of the room and pouring two drinks in a couple of wine glasses.
Charles takes the drink Mr. Shaw offers him, the dark red color of it hypnotizing and its odor making him almost dizzy with hunger.
This is freshly spilled blood. Charles would recognize the smell of it everywhere, even though it has been almost a half a century since he gave in the temptation to taste it.
Politely, he moves the glass away from him and places it on the office. He cannot drink this. Charles knows himself. If he gives in, he won't be able to stop.
"Yes, well, I happen to be quite fascinated and curious I might add about your research, Charles." Mr. Shaw glances at him and the corner of his lips turn up. "May I call you Charles?" he takes a seat behind his office without waiting for an answer and brings his drink to his lips, pausing a little over the glass as he sniffs the fragrance of it before taking a delicate sip. "Ah, excellent, as always." He murmurs to himself.
"I am still working on the chemical compound of it. As you can understand, it's quite a revolutionary idea which, if it can be brought to reality, it will undoubtedly change the way our whole kind works and operates." Charles feels excited talking about it, about the things that will change should his project work. Who knows, it might even make up a little bit for the things of the past that Charles has never forgiven himself.
"How far along are you with the practical applications of it?" Mr. Shaw narrows his eyes at Charles' untouchable drink but doesn't comment on it.
"We still have a long way to go." Charles deflates on this.
"'We'"?
Charles doesn't understand why but suddenly, he feels like he should keep Hank's involvement on the project away from Sebastian Shaw's ears. After all, a human, a living, breathing, warm-blood-rushing-through-his-veins human working with a vampire? Preposterous.
"Yes, I-"
There's a sudden commotion outside the room at that moment, fortunately cutting Charles' no doubt ridiculous attempt of trying to make up a lie, when Ms Frost comes inside, her eyes hard as she makes a signal to Mr. Shaw who, upon seeing her, stands up rigidly from his seat.
"I'm sorry, Charles, there seems to be an issue of importance I must attend to but please, remain seated and I will soon be with you." And with that, he exits the room, the door closing behind him and leaving Charles alone in the cold, mirrored room.
The quiet and the fact that he cannot see his reflection on the high mirror-covered walls are unnerving and Charles picks up his pocket-watch to check the time. His blue eyes widen when he sees that it's a quarter to six, which means less than half an hour before sunrise.
Alarmed, he stands up quickly and goes to the door which proves to be locked when Charles tries to open it. Confused, he grips the metal knob tightly and gives it a tug but the door doesn't budge.
"Mr. Shaw?" he says loudly, a hint of desperation in his voice. He feels like a caged animal, put on display for an audience he can't face.
There's no answer and Charles turns around, facing the room and checking for other possible exits. He walks around it with measured steps, and when he reaches the far end of it, next to the mini-bar, he sees a small window hidden behind an iron metal cabinet. Soft light comes out of it and a feeling of dread engulfs Charles.
He bends closer to the window and presses his face hesitantly on it, mindful of the light sunrays that touch his pale face like prickly feathers and the sight that greets him leaves him momentarily speechless.
Two hooded figures stand still in the middle of the estate's garden outside with their backs to Charles while a third one is kneeling on the ground, uncovered and thrashing into what appears to be tight bonds. The man is probably yelling, Charles can see his mouth moving fast and wide but the figures above him don't pay attention to him.
As the sun slowly starts to rise, the hooded figures run inside the sanctuary of the building while the bound man tries in vain to free himself with jerky moves.
At that exact moment, everything stops making sense to Charles. He doesn't know what gets into him -later, he will claim that he felt for the poor soul, kicking and screaming in pain, while the light softly fell upon him- but, without any conscious thought, he pushes the window open with a hard move, quickly crawling outside and then all but running towards the man, all the while the slowly rising sun above him making his skin impossibly itchy.
The smell of burned flesh invades his nostrils before he even comes close enough to the man whose face has now turned an ugly shade of red, charred skin all over his cheeks and arms, wrists bleeding obviously from his attempts to free himself.
Charles feels his own skin burn now that the sun is getting visible on the sky and he grits his teeth, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. He can't help but cry in pain when a particularly vicious sunray catches him across the face, his eyes cringing and his hands coming up to protect himself from the light.
With jerky moves, he tries to untie the tight bounds from the man's wrists while keeping his head bowed at the same time, away from the sun's unforgivable attention. The man however isn't helping the situation by thrashing and screaming inside Charles' ears.
"Please," Charles rasps, "I'm trying to help you, please calm yourself."
The other man doesn't give any sign that he hears him, continuing to kick and jerk instead, and Charles grabs him tightly by his shoulders and brings their faces closer together.
"I will free you, but please stop moving!" he says brokenly and the man, while he doesn't cease his wild movements completely, pauses in his anguish for a moment to look at Charles through watery red eyes.
"Alright, my friend?" Charles whispers and then quickly returns to the task at hand, untying the tight knots first on the man's left, then on his right wrist.
"And now," Charles grips the man who sways on his feet at first before standing still with Charles' help, "we need to run."