Hunted and Hated
An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own X-Men.
Chapter 2: A Stranger's Mercy
Catherine stared in horror at the…thing that lay sprawled unconscious in the middle of her home. From its fearsome fangs, its warped hands and demonic tail, it was obvious to her that this was indeed the El Diablo that the horseman had warned her about.
Its golden eyes met her own for a heart-stopping minute, and then the catlike pupils rolled up into its head as it slumped in a daze.
The young woman stood for a moment, and debate raged within her as to what she was to do.
Catherine's first impulse was to alert the Inquisitors and have the demon expunged from her home. It certainly looked like the pictures of Satan's servants she'd seen in books and paintings. But even so, when it looked at her, it had seemed like it was merely giving up, resigned to the fate that the Inquisition had in store for it. Curiosity replaced fear, and Catherine decided that there would be no harm in merely having a look at it, since the demon was obviously either dead or unconscious.
With extreme caution, Catherine knelt until she was almost eye level with it. But her morbid fascination turned to horror as something wet and sticky soaked into the hem of her dress. Catherine held a candle to the stain, and a sob of horror escaped her lips.
It was a large puddle of very human-looking blood.
Catherine hesitated. "Surely demons do not bleed as men do," she murmured. "I wonder what could have laid such a creature low." With shaking fingers (she did NOT want to wake it up), Catherine gently turned the blue form onto its side.
But when the sight of Kurt's wounds greeted her, she wished she hadn't.
Catherine couldn't help being horrified at the grisly shafts. She was a country girl; war had not touched this region since the King and his men had driven out the Moors. And she had certainly never laid eyes on wounds like these.
Even though Catherine had been told that this creature served the Devil, her kind heart could not help but pity its wretched condition. "Father Pedro says that demons cannot be hurt by earthly weapons," she admitted to herself. "So why was this one wounded so easily? Why did he not disappear into thin air, as evil spirits do?"
A thought struck her. "Perhaps it is not a demon at all," Catherine mused. "I suppose it is possible that he was a terrible sinner, and the Lord saw fit to punish him by giving him such an appearance. I think I shall wait until he wakes up," she added. "Then I will know the truth."
With considerable effort, Catherine picked up the unconscious mutant and laid it down upon her bed, but she was careful to let it rest on its stomach to avoid provoking its wounds. That done, she headed into the kitchen to retrieve a jar of salt and a pint of holy water, the things that all Spaniards kept in their homes in case evil spirits came a-calling. According to popular legend, these ingredients would create a barrier around a possessed person until a priest could come to cleanse him. Catherine theorized that the same principle would apply here, in case this misshapen creature was indeed a servant of evil.
The salt created a white circle that stood in stark contrast to the dark floorboards, and the holy water dripped slowly as Catherine sprinkled it evenly. When the barrier was complete, she recited the Lord's Prayer, and went to get a pair pliers.
Catherine knew, from conversation with veterans of the Muslim Wars, that only tools such as these were capable of extracting a crossbow bolt from flesh and tissue. The girl pulled up a stool that the demon had apparently knocked over, and sat at the edge of the sheets with a grimace of distaste marring her normally attractive features.
Catherine was a gentle soul, after all. Such a kind and warm person should not have to perform grisly tasks like this.
The metal tool clamped snugly down upon one of the shining bolts, and Catherine struggled to keep from vomiting as she wiggled it this way and that, freeing it inch by inch from the creature's back. Though the extraction took only five minutes, it seemed like days.
The girl swallowed the bile that threatened to rush up her throat, and moved on to the next wound…
Much later…
The sun was beginning to rise as Catherine yawned sleepily to herself. With the demon in her bed, she had no place to sleep, and as such had spent the whole night waiting to see if the creature woke.
After all, one found it hard to sleep when a demon was a guest in one's home.
Catherine blinked blearily against the growing light. It was Sunday, she realized, but she was far too tired to attend morning Mass. That is a serious sin, she thought absently. I will have to mention it at my next Confession.
The sun's glorious light began to seep through the windows, and Catherine realized with a start that the creature would be caught in its rays. Everyone knew that unholy creatures could not abide the sun, and Catherine almost expected it to burst into flames when dawn's glow bathed its body.
Nothing happened, and Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. If the demon spontaneously combusted, it would surely burn her bed to ashes as well, and Catherine simply could not afford to buy a new one right now.
She sank wearily onto her stool once more, but relief turned to consternation as the demon opened its eyes.
Kurt's POV
Either God had decided to show mercy upon his wretched life, or He simply wasn't done playing with him yet. Kurt had long stopped believing in mercy after so many brushes with the Grim Reaper. So while he felt an odd sense of surprise to find himself still alive, he wasn't particularly optimistic about it.
Kurt half-wished that he HAD died from his wounds; such a death would only serve to end his suffering, and it would be far less painful than anything the Church had in mind.
Kurt opened his blue eyelids slowly, and when his vision focused, found himself staring at the woman from the night before. He tried to open his mouth, in an effort to say something, but his tongue was swollen from thirst and dehydration. A hoarse croak was all that issued from between his long fangs.
Normal POV
Catherine only just avoided panicking as the demon's eyes focused on her. They were golden, catlike pupils, the color of the trees in autumn, but Catherine didn't see any malevolence or sinister intent in their depths. There was only fear, uncertainty, and a quiet resignation to a horrible fate.
It opened its mouth, revealing a set of scary fangs, but only a sound vaguely reminiscent of a toad's call greeted her. Again, it tried to speak, and Catherine suddenly realized the problem.
Her hand strayed toward the crucifix around her neck. "Are you…thirsty?"
Kurt nodded, and finally found his voice. "Water," he rasped.
It certainly seemed like an innocent enough request, so Catherine held up a hand. "Wait here," she said, and in record time she returned with a tankard of the life-giving liquid. Her hands shook visibly as she held the drinking vessel to the demon's blue lips. It drank greedily, and Catherine took advantage of its distraction to study it a little.
He, she corrected herself. The creature, whatever it was, seemed to be male. That thought alone made her fearful, for it was known that demons liked to amuse themselves with young virgins. A shudder shook Catherine's slender frame, and she gasped in surprise as his blue, furry fingers touched her own in the process of handing the jug back to her.
It seemed to be fully awake now, and his eyes searched hers before he spoke coherently. His voice was laced with a hint of foreign accent. "Where am I? Who are you? Why am I not dead?"
Catherine considered each of his inquiries in turn. "You are in the countryside outside of Zaragoza. I am Catherine Hernandez, senor, and you are not dead because I have not summoned the Inquisition."
"Why?" His voice cracked slightly.
"Because, senor, there are several things about you that make me doubt your demonic nature."
Bitter amusement rippled across his face. "Such as?"
Catherine thought for a moment. "You bled quite a lot from your wounds, and no weapon of metal or wood can hurt a supernatural being. The sunlight did not immolate you, and if you were truly a demon, you would have disappeared when the Church came after you. So tell me then, what are you? Is this form a punishment from God?"
He laughed bitterly. "I've wondered about that more than once, Catherine. I never asked to be like this. For all I know, I was cursed with this appearance from the moment I was born."
"Did your parents conceive you out of wedlock? That could be a possible reason," Catherine's tone was serious, but she couldn't help blushing at the mention of such things.
"I wouldn't know," he replied. "I never knew my parents, and the priest that raised me was executed by the Inquisition when they were told of my existence. I've been on the run ever since." He paused here, and extended his unusual hand in the universal manner of greeting. "I'm Kurt, by the way. Kurt Wagner."
Catherine hesitated for a tangible second before slipping her hand in his. "A pleasure, senor Kurt. Are you hungry? You do eat, don't you?"
Kurt's face contorted with hurt. "You still believe them. You still think I'm a demon, don't you?"
Guilt flashed unpleasantly through the young woman's body. "No, no, I just didn't know if your…unique appearance required it. I am not sure what to think, Kurt, but I am no longer convinced that you mean me harm."
Kurt grinned, flashing those canines. "Do you have any chicken?"
A/N: That went, well, I think, considering what COULD have happened! XD Anyway, I just thought I'd get this chapter up before the school week starts. But don't fret, the next installment will be up either tomorrow or Tuesday!
Your humble servant,
-Quill N. Inque