Chapter Three – Dark Shadows and Omens
"It's over here."
Logan led Marie across to the other side of the car park where his vehicle, a rather beat up looking camper van, was half buried in the snow. She regarded it as enthusiastically as her wind-numbed face would allow, not wanting to appear as if she might be looking down at it.
"I know it aint much to look at" Logan apologised, seeming to read her thoughts. "But it gets me from A to B without too much hassle."
Marie noticed there was a covered bike in the trailer behind. "You're a biker"
Her words appeared to humour him. "I ride a bike, yeah."
She smiled gently. "I can see you as a biker. It kinda fits."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Fits"
She shrugged. "I dunno...the leather jacket and all..." She cringed inwardly, realising how dumb that sounded.
"Right" he returned blankly, although there remained an undercurrent of amusement lingering in his tone. Despite this, she groaned beneath her breath. She really did say the most stupid things sometimes. As if wearing a leather jacket would automatically make someone a biker!
"Shall we" he gestured to the camper van and she realised that she was talking a load of nonsense whilst they were slowly freezing to death.
"Sorry" she offered sheepishly and quickly pulled open the passenger door and hauled herself into the seat, dragging her large holdall bag behind her.
As he slipped into the driver's seat she tried to make herself comfortable, which was difficult with a large bag wedged between her feet.
"You can put that in the back if you like."
Her grateful eyes followed his motioning thumb but she was immediately taken aback by the state of the small living area behind them. She mentally kicked herself when she let out a tiny gasp of shock.
The shadows rushed back into his face as he snapped his gaze onto her. "What"
She swallowed uncomfortably. "Nothing."
He looked angry as he roughly reached across her thighs, grabbed her bag and frostily deposited it in the living area.
"Logan...I'm not...not judging you" she insisted firmly.
He sighed remorsefully as he dropped back into his seat. "Yeah...yeah, I know you're not." He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Truth is, I know it's a shit-hole." He shrugged, resignedly. "I don't use it much, yer'see. Tend to stick with motels."
Marie forced a smile, wanting to chase those shadows from his face again. "It's..." her mind raced for the right word. "It's cosy" she declared adamantly.
He laughed quietly, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, right."
She let out a breath of relief, glad that they had cleared the air and happy to see him smiling again. She liked the smiling Logan. The shadowed Logan made her hurt inside. Made her want to rage at whatever demons had turned him that way.
But when he was preoccupied with starting the engine she couldn't help but sneak a final look back behind her. At the clothes hanging in haphazard indifference from the basic fittings, at the empty beer bottles and cigar butts littering the floor. And when she saw the thin mattress lying in one corner of the room with a rather threadbare blanket and pillow, her heart all but wept.
This was Logan's sad little world?
"Where we headed?"
His voice wrenched her back to the front of the van and she blinked back her tears. "The Red Wood Motel" she answered shakily, hurriedly trying to compose herself.
He nodded and manoeuvred his way carefully through the snow and out of the car park onto the town road.
"You know it?" Marie asked, although not altogether surprised, assuming that he must be familiar with the area.
"Yeah. Was intending to head out there myself after a few drinks."
Marie felt a stab of guilt. "I hope I haven't spoilt your evening."
As he pulled out onto the highway he looked at her as if she was mad to even think such a thing. His words were a little more restrained however. "You haven't," he stated bluntly.
Marie indulged herself with a waver of a satisfied smile.
"Treena's nice" she blurted, before she could stop herself. "Is she your -"
He turned his attentions back to the road. "She's a friend" he reacted sharply, and Marie guessed that he had known what she was about to ask. "A good friend," he added quietly, his tone softening apologetically.
Marie felt relieved by this knowledge although she realised that her expectations were not only a little high but very presumptuous. Just because Treena wasn't his girlfriend, it didn't necessarily mean that he was single. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring but a good-looking guy like him couldn't have been short of admirers.
She sighed gently. Don't even go there, Marie, she warned herself. Not only had she only just met the guy, she doubted he'd be interested in someone like her, regardless of that look they had exchanged. And if he knew she was a mutant...well...she didn't even want to dare stray down 'that' path.
Emptying her mind of anything Logan-girlfriend related she lent back in her seat as the camper van began to warm up, the heat feeling delicious as it drifted across to her feet and rose up her jean-clad legs.
"Warm enough?"
"Yeah," she murmured contentedly, unable to resist closing her eyes. She had been unbearably cold since the jeep had broken down, even in the bar, and it felt so good to thaw out at last. It was only now that she realised how tired she was. It had been a long day.
"Mind if I smoke?"
"No," Marie replied sleepily, eyes still closed. "Go ahead. I like the smell of cigars." This was no lie either. Her grandfather, a man she had adored as a child and who had sadly died long before her mutation had kicked in, had smoked them all the time and now she always associated the smell of cigar smoke with happier times. Times when she was normal. Just Marie. Not Marie-the-mutant.
He lit up and she watched him take a deep, appreciative drag, mesmerised by how relaxed his actions were, how calming. When he lazily released a cloud of dark grey smoke into the cab she unconsciously inhaled in an attempt to draw some of it in, hoping that she might pick up a trace of him amongst the minute particles.
"What is it with women and cigar smoke?" he declared unexpectedly into the silence, his voice thick with innuendo.
Marie felt the colour creep into her cheeks realising that her inhale must have been less than discreet. "I don't know what you're implying but it reminds me of my grandfather" she set him straight.
"'I remind you of your grandfather?" he exclaimed, a little put out.
Marie grinned. "Hardly. He was about twice your size and, let me put it this way, it wasn't muscle." Her face lit up with affection and precious memories. "He made a perfect Santa Claus though."
Logan moved the cigar to the corner of his mouth and flashed her a curious look. "What's a woman like you doin' in the middle of Canada, in this kinda weather?"
"Enjoying the snow," she teased.
He frowned. "C'mon, seriously. You in some kinda trouble?"
The very idea seemed ludicrous yet perversely exciting and it frustrated her what a sheltered life she had lived up until now. She was twenty-one and had seen and done nothing of consequence, nothing to define her as an individual. "Do I look as if I am" But as she watched Logan she wondered if things were about to change. Drastically.
He glanced back at the road. "Not really." He shrugged. "Well, just car trouble."
"I'm taking a trip," she finally announced, a sparkle of pride glistening through her words. "I've wanted to explore Canada since I was old enough to understand a map. A childhood dream, you could say. I would've visited sooner but..." she quickly stopped herself, realising how easy it was for her to forget her situation, even after all this time. No way was she admitting to being a mutant. Not with how things were in the world right now. She didn't think Logan was one of those obsessive mutant haters but she still felt it in her best interests to be on her guard.
"But?" he pressed.
"Things just sort of got in the way."
"Is it wise to be travelling alone?" he persisted. "You just don't know who you're gonna meet on the road. What psychos are out there. It aint safe."
What he was implying touched a nerve. "I can take care of myself," she snapped, harsher than she intended and she promptly calmed herself. "Besides, I've met you. Are 'you' a psycho?"
"Only when I'm hungry," he joked dryly.
They exchanged smiles; at least hers was a smile. His was more of a lopsided grin as his mouth wrestled to keep hold of his cigar.
For a while there was a restful silence between them and Marie was surprised by how safe she felt around Logan - it seemed odd that a man so rough, and even dangerous looking, could make her feel that way. He could've been a psycho for all she knew...but that obliging sixth-sense of hers kept reassuring her otherwise. She had never felt at much risk whilst travelling anyway because of her mutation – it did have one advantage at least - but with Logan the feeling at ease came naturally, felt almost familiar.
But as pleasant as the moment was, she was also aware that The Red Wood Motel wouldn't be too long away now. If Logan went straight to his motel room she wouldn't see him again until the morning.
"Can I ask you something, Logan?" she started as she sat up straighter in her seat and turned to watch him chew absently down upon his cigar.
She noticed him frown restlessly as he continued to stare out the window into the night. "Shoot."
"Treena called you Wolverine. What did she mean?"
He tugged the cigar from his lips and gripped it between his fingers as his hand rested upon the steering wheel. "It's my cage name."
"Cage name?"
He glanced across at her. "Ever heard of cage fightin'?'"
"Yeah," she confirmed, somewhat apprehensively. "Two men beat the crap out of each other in a large cage for money." She stared at him as realisation dawned. "That's what you do"
"That's what I do best, darling.'"
It wasn't the fact that he called her darling that disappointed her, it was the way his voice took on this self-mocking, almost self-loathing tone, like he was being defensive the only way he knew how. His whole persona changed in the blink of an eye and the Logan she had just been chatting so pleasantly with seemed to suddenly retreat within himself.
She ran sad eyes over his profile; his jaw set rigidly tight, his frown stubbornly intent on darkening his handsome face again. He became a man weighted with a million conflicts and she had no idea what any of them were.
Overwhelmed with the need to know – to know his secrets – she couldn't stop herself from reaching out to him.
"Why do you hate yourself so much?" she whispered, her heart beginning to race, fearing his reaction to her bold statement.
She noticed the jaw set tighter, the frown deepen further, and he took so long to answer that she thought he never would.
"I don't hate myself," he finally breathed, voice strong and resolute, but in his next breath that strength wavered and crumbled like rock into sand. "I hate who I've become."
Marie gaped at him. She had never been so affected by someone before. So moved. And so terribly pained.
"Then be someone else," she dared, ignoring that voice in her head telling her that she had gone too far and instead choosing to believe that perhaps Logan actually needed someone to step over that line.
He turned slowly to face her, and even though his look was fleeting it seem to last an eternity. "I don't know how to anymore."
His words were heart-wrenching enough, but his eyes, so full of anguish, scorched like fire into her memory and she knew the image would never fade away. That she would see them in dreams – and nightmares.
She chewed down upon her lip, fighting back the tears again, realising that she had known this man less than an hour and he had already found the way to her heart. The straws she had initially feared she was clutching suddenly became more solid, more defined. She had always believed in fate and she truly believed that it was working now. That it had purposely brought her and Logan together.
She felt a little queasy. What was happening? Where was this night heading?
"Logan..." His name slipped from her lips for no reason other than the overwhelming desire to hear it spoken aloud, and with no idea of the words that would follow it; she doubted there even were any. Her heart was thudding in her ears so loudly she felt positive that he could hear it too.
She noticed him grip the steering wheel tighter, so tightly that his knuckles turned disturbingly white. She stared down at them in horror, not knowing why the sight of them affected her so intensely.
"I'm a lost cause, Marie," he growled bitterly, warningly, but she was no longer deterred by his animosity.
"No one is a lost cause," she protested gently, whilst at the same time the sound of him speaking her name for the first time made butterflies dance in her stomach.
She intended to say more but just at that moment the neon lights of The Red Wood Motel came into view and Logan was pulling off the highway into it's car park. She felt a spark of panic flare within her, realising that it was over. That it was too late now to say everything she wanted to say to the torn man beside her.
It couldn't end like this. With those closing words. She wouldn't let it.
But she did. And she hated herself for it.
As he killed the engine she unclipped her seatbelt, reached for her holdall and followed him from the camper van and reluctantly out into night's raw embrace.
She realised that it had stopped snowing but the fact did little to console her. Allowing Logan to lead her across to the motel's reception she glanced, once more, at the full moon - The Wolf Moon - the crater-face seeming to gloat now, as if it knew full well of Logan's demons and was relishing every second.
She found herself lingering, eyes narrowed, determined to wipe that smug smile right off its fat face.
She was so preoccupied in planning crazy vendettas that she was unaware that Logan had also stopped and was now watching her strangely. "You all right, kid?" He followed her stare up to the glowing sphere and his features seemed to brighten for a few precious moments. "Impressive moon tonight," he remarked gently, and Marie was relieved to note that the pleasant Logan was back.
"Wolf Moon," she revealed with a shiver and it shocked her to acknowledge that the initial awe she had felt only a few hours earlier was now completely gone. Like someone had sucked the sentiment right out of her. Instead it had been replaced with a warning, cautioning her that it was not, in fact, a marvel to be revered but a bad omen to be heeded.
"Huh?" He flicked his eyes onto her.
"It's called The Wolf Moon. At least during January."
"That some Indian lore?"
She nodded nervously.
He glanced back at the moon again and for a second she was convinced that she saw a suggestion of uneasiness sneak into his own features. But he swiftly turned and began to continue his journey towards the motel.
She hurried to catch up with him. "Logan..."
"Yeah"
"You're not a lost cause, you know."
He offered her an empty smile. "Not quite," he relented, as he crunched slowly through the snow. "But close enough."
They were to be neighbours, it turned out, after money had exchanged hands and they were given keys to their motel rooms. Marie wanted to pay for his room as a thank you for all his help but he insisted that it might be going a bit heavy on the generosity and settled for her buying him a burger at the diner opposite the motel instead.
It had transpired that they were both starving and Marie had joked that she didn't want him turning into that hungry psycho he had warned her about. So, they had arranged to meet up again in half an hour's time, after they had settled into their rooms and scrubbed up a bit.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, hands hanging loosely down between his thighs, eyes focused attentively on the wall that divided them. He didn't need his heightened senses to pick up the sound of her shower, the barrier between them obscenely thin, and he felt his groin tighten as erotic images of her lathering up invaded his senses. He hadn't been able to make out much of her body beneath that heavy coat of hers but he imagined it would be just as beautiful as her face, with curves in all the right places. He groaned painfully as the crotch of his jeans became unbearably tight and he finally decided it might be a good idea to have a shower himself – preferably a cold one.
He wanted her, that much was obvious, but she was different to the other women he had been attracted too. So very different. She was soft whereas they were hard; she was natural whereas most of them were as fake as their silicone chests. Like Treena, she was someone special, whereas all his other liaisons had been just about fulfilling a primal need - to fuck.
He frowned as he used the motel's cheap smelling shampoo to wash his hair. There could be no denying the attraction between them, that inexplicable pull that had been set in motion the moment they had laid eyes on one another, but she was definitely no liaison...yet. Nor did he want to rush into anything. One wrong move could ruin everything. Shatter his hopes.
Hopes?
What was he hoping?
Soap slipped into his eye and before it could attack him with more than a brief sting his healing factor kicked in to counteract it. The fact that his mutation would make itself known in the most simple of ways irritated him, like it never wanted to let him forget that he was a mutant. A freak of nature. Worst than a freak of nature because man had also added his own twisted contribution.
As if he hadn't already been fucked up enough, he swore in a flare of anger.
He scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head dismissively. Old news. He had been down this road too many times. Too many fuckin' times...
Anger dissipating, he wondered what Marie's views on the Mutant Problem might be. Would she hate him if she knew the truth? Would she be filled with revulsion? Or did that gentle and compassionate nature of hers run completely skin deep? One hundred percent genuine? He had been knocked back so many times he really didn't know who to trust anymore. Appearances could deceive. Even ones with doe-like brown eyes and manes of gorgeous silky chestnut hair.
Leaning back his head he rinsed away the mass of suds, feeling them slide lazily down his back, the tepid water making him shiver.
It was too late now, he accepted. Deceiving or not, he had to have her. The Wolverine inside was already demanding it, desperate to claim her, take her as his mate.
Mate? Logan hadn't even considered that far ahead. For the first time ever he was not simply focusing on sex. He was thinking...long term?
His head fell forward, water cascading down his face in tiny erratic rivers, into his eyes, his mouth, down his heaving chest...
It was crazy and irrational but he knew that he couldn't let her go in the morning.
Couldn't let her walk out of his life as quickly as she had entered it.