Greetings from The Lady Mage! Read, enjoy, review!
Legalities: I promise you, on my word as a Mage, I did not kidnap that mutant . . . he came willingly . . enough . . sorta . . *glances down at bloody shirt* . . I'm gonna go now . . yeah . . . *runs*
FERITY: (fehr-it-ee) - (noun) - 1. The state of being wild, or untamed. 2. The state of being savage; Ferocity.
The fire was burning low under the leather canopy he'd strung up over his campfire- just high enough that it wouldn't burn, but low enough it gave off a pleasant smell. With the canopy in place, nothing overhead would directly see the flames, and with the way it was snowing all of a sudden, he didn't think the smoke would be the first thing on anyone's mind. It had taken him a good two hours after he'd watched her walk inside that damned gate before he could make himself leave. Damned if he wasn't worried- hell, he was maybe even a little scared- that just because they were his, the X-Geeks would go all righteous on him.
'No, no, we can't possibly harbor the innocent wife and child of that vicious, nasty Sabretooth . . what would the neighbors think?'
He had waited there, sitting in a fucking cold tree, watching, wondering if they would see him in her eyes and throw her back into the snow. Then an enraging thought struck him: Would they throw her out, but then try to keep Sari? Try to separate cub from mother? Sari was totally innocent- she was only a week old. 'Has it been a week already?' Would they try to steal her off somewhere and raise her as their own? As an X-Man?
A sharp, hot feeling of rage fell over him, and he could feel the change coming over him- the brown of his eyes fading to black, the itch as his hair stood on end, pressure from his incisors lengthening, the claws begging release- begging for blood.
'Over my dead, rotting corpse!'
He'd kill them all- nice and slow- for even thinking they could take HIS cub away from him- away from HIS Zee. He'd string them all up like puppets- keep a roll of duct tape around RedEye's head, throw that white-haired frail into an interior room with no windows, no light. The only one he'd kill quick would be that damn telekine- but he'd make it oh, so painful for her to die. She'd not have the time or presence of mind to use her teke on him before it would be too little, too late. RedEye would be getting a radical sex-change operation, and he'd find plenty to do to torture that windrider before he slowly gutted her.
Without Zee here with him, it took a good minute or two to push back the rage and keep himself from destroying the gate, then barging up into that front door. If she'd been sitting here beside him, all she'd have to do was put her hand on his arm, just look into his eyes with her midnight-blues, and he would almost instantly calm down. After a few tense minutes, he'd calmed enough to step back and re-assess the situation. He realized with a proud smirk that with the way his Katze had been acting, she'd be more than capable of ripping their throats out before they could even so much as breathe on the cub's curly hair.
God damn, but she was protective. A dark laugh escaped him just thinking about it. Zee had growled at ol' Bluebutt the day before they left to grab that toxic runt from the train station. The shapeshifter had been in their room, going on with that inane frail nonsense her and Zoe were always chattering on about. He'd just stepped out of the shower when he heard the cub whimper before Zoe growled- deep and threatening. The sound had the same effect on his ass as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over his head. By the time he'd knocked down the bathroom door, Zoe'd had her arms around Mystique's middle, apologizing up one side and down the other. All the metamorph had done was try to pick Sari up to bring to Zee, and the feral had nearly attacked her for it!
After no sign of Zee or Sari, and no sign of anything being wrong within the walls of that mansion, he'd come down from his lookout and set out to find a place to sleep all day. On his way, he had pulled out the little cell phone in his pack, and turned it on before slipping it in his pocket. Just in case.
He'd used her flint stones to start a little fire under his canopy next to his chosen sleepin' tree. He'd have to wait until daybreak to truly rest, and god-damned it if he wasn't suddenly so damn cold. Zee would be under his furs by now, her body and Sari's pressed against his side and chest, and they would keep him as warm as he kept them. He was no frail, but he kinda liked the feeling of that little cub laying over his heart. And Zee, glued to his side, smelling like the wild, like wood, and earth, and rain- oh, how she always smelled like rain.
With a growl at himself, he checked the cell phone again. No missed calls, no messages, no texts. Damn it.
'When did I become such a worrisome fuckin' puss? Fucking frail bullshit . . . ' He growled again, rolling his eyes at himself. 'Fuck. The day I met Zee- that's fuckin' when.'
Damned if that sexy feral redhead hadn't managed to weasel her way into the deepest part of his little, black heart. But he had to smirk, knowing whole-heartedly that he totally owned her's. That seductive cat was HIS- body, mind, heart, and soul. Whatever fucking Creator was out there better-fucking-help anyone who tried to hurt her or his cub.
The last hours of night had passed quickly enough, and he put out his puny campfire before he scaling his tree. He put the canopy of leather over the branches above him for shelter and shade, and then lay out to drowse the day away. He made sure the volume was on high on his phone, and then tucked it in his pocket. He'd have a long night ahead of him once he woke up, finding a car to steal to start the drive North. For now, he just needed to get out of this county fast so that no one would be able to link Sari or Zoe to himself. Once there was a good hundred miles between them, he could take his time the rest of the way North. Up there he had some old contacts near the border that might just have a few…interesting ventures for him. Not that he needed the money- hell, he had plenty of money- but the distraction would be good for him. He needed to toughen back up, especially knowing it would be at least six weeks- maybe eight, ten?- until he could take Zee and Sari out of that stupid school.
The wind blew hard, and he held in a shiver from the cold air that blew down the front of his shirt.
'God damn it.'
Unlike her mate, Zosia lay curled in the middle of a big, soft king-sized bed, wrapped up in her fur coat. She'd been given use of the very last bedroom on the third floor, down the long hall of the west wing. The only other occupied bedroom on this wing was four doors down from her, and she'd heard the weather witch come bed an hour before. Either Professor Xavier was insightful beyond his mutation, or he had skimmed her mind enough to know that it was safer to put her away from the collective population of the school.
The deep quiet of the mansion made her feel uneasy and off balance. She knew that this was a school, and that there were dozens of students sleeping just one floor below her, but she felt very alone in her bed. Warts had sounded like a buzzsaw on concrete when he managed a deep sleep- prompting Mystique to try to suffocate him more than once. He had been mostly nocturnal, sleeping better during the day, and kept the television on all night to keep him company. Around four in the morning, Mystique would be up and about, and Zoe could hear her showering in the bathroom beside their room. At five forty-five, sharp, Eric would walk past their bedroom door on his way to find Mystique and figure out what breakfast would be and decide what needed to be done that day.
The feral had never spent the night in such unnatural quiet. Even the woods had their crickets.
Laying there in the darkness, watching the stars out the window beside her bed, she absently stroked Sari's back. The sleeping cub was cuddled against her, covered with the edge of her mother's cape. It was going to be a long time before the snow melted. She didn't know the mutants here outside of what Mystique and Victor had told her, and she wasn't sure how much trust to put into any of them. Would they really let her stay until Victor came back?
'Oh, Victor . . .'
Victor had snored- a soft sound more like a purr than a snore, really, and she could feel it vibrate against her chest as they slept. He always slept with his big, strong arms over her, holding her possessively to the mattress with his body. She couldn't pile enough blankets on top of her to simulate his warmth, his weight, pressing into her. Nothing could replace the feeling of peace he brought over her when he was near.
It wasn't as though she couldn't be comfortable, though, in his absence. She had packed what was necessary to have, and left behind what was easily replaced. Her mate had given her control of her own bank account with more money in it than most humans could use in several lifetimes. Anything she needed, anything Sari needed, there was more than enough to provide them with it.
She pulled her cloak up closer around her daughter, cuddling her to her chest. Burying her nose in the soft fur of her cape, she inhaled deeply the scent of Victor- something that smelled of male, of wood, earth, and rain. 'He always smells like rain.' Beside her, her daughter hardly stirred, sleeping peacefully up close to her maman. His cub, his scent, his grasp on her heart- it all made her miss him so terribly, like he had been gone years instead of just hours. She missed him already. With a small smile, she reached across the nightstand and pulled the polaroid picture from beneath the lamp where she'd stashed it.
It was one of the first pictures of her and Victor taken- and the first one after they'd mated. Toad had worked so hard to get it, and even harder to keep the blonde feral from ripping it to shreds to be rid of it! Her finger traced over the flow of Victor's mane, down to where it mingled with her own as she laid with her head on his shoulder, and his face against her neck. They'd fallen asleep, and she'd woken up first. Wanting his attention, she'd nuzzled against his skin. Slowly waking, his mouth went to nip her neck, and that's when the shutter clicked.
"Mein Lehrer." Zoe purred, looking up as Eric and Toad came in the front door, but making no attempt to move from her warm perch. Mystique was lounged across Eric's armchair, watching whatever random war movie was on with them, but she was about as bored with it as Zosia was. She sat up proper when the door opened.
"How did everything go?" Mystique asked.
Eric Lehnsherr put his coat on the metal hook by the door, and then turned a pleased expression towards the three sitting. Toad, next to him, was carrying a cardboard box. Eric gestured to the box. "Very well." He took his box back from the green mutant, and watched Toad take a seat on the couch, sans shoes.
"You wouldn't believe it, Vic," Warts had gone to sit down on the far end of the couch, pulling off his socks. "-we had to meet up with this beast o' a mutant- made you look like All-American boy, he was so revolting! Said he was an elephant feral, he did. Had the thick skin for it, though it were pink instead o' gray." He chuckled, in a good mood. "O'course, by the smell o' him, I'd say he were more cow feral than elephant. He reeked o' a cat'le ranch."
"You kill him?" Victor asked, turning back to the television as a grenade went off on the screen.
"Nah. Mags wouldn't let me." Toad answered, leaning back into the couch cushions with a groaning sigh. "Good to be home, mate." Victor grunted.
"Did you want me to start working on this now?" Mystique asked, gesturing to the box in Eric's arms as he walked to her chair. "Or would you prefer to rest for a while?"
"I think I'd like to rest first." he answered. "But if you will come with me, I will brief you on what we've learned." She held her hand out to him, and he took it in his own. She stood, and the two of them walked back towards his study down the long hallway.
Once the two were out of eyesight and hearing, Toad snorted. "What we've learned, my neon green arse."
Zosia gave him a light flick on his shoulder behind her back without losing her place against Victor's side. He slouched down into the cushions, legs out on the coffee table in front of him. When she cuddled up to him, he raised his arm, putting it across the back of the couch. She took his invitation, curling up on the couch against his side, her feet beneath her, and her head rested against his shoulder.
"What movie is this?" Warts asked, glancing at the two ferals on the other end of the sectional. He did a double-take, but held in his comment for now.
"Some military movie. Boring." Zoe answered quietly, letting her eyes slide closed. Perhaps she could rest for a few moments here.
Mortimer smirked, reaching out and running one pinky nail up the length of the underside of one of Zoe's bare feet. He got the reaction he was after when she jerked, putting herself in Victor's lap in surprise. He laughed.
"Warts!" she hissed, more amused than angry. Victor growled at him, pulling Zoe down against him so she wasn't blocking the television. She kept her legs out toward Mort's end of the couch, but kept the soles of her feet against the cushions so he couldn't tickle her again. She rested on her side, her head on Victor's shoulder. "I'm much too tired to play with you."
"Since when are th' two o' you touchy-feely, eh?" Mortimer asked, eyeing the two. Zoe's eyes slid open, looking over at him. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Not your business, Frog." Victor growled, eyes on the tv.
"Eric know?" Mort asked. Victor grunted. "Fucked her right, yet?" By the tone of Victor's growl, and how Zoe's joined it, he figured it was an answer in the affirmative, and he was surprised. "By God, mate, but Eric's gonna gut you like a pig!"
"No, he won't." Zoe returned, her voice unworried. She closed her eyes again, relaxing in Victor's lap. She wanted a nap, and he was such a big teddy bear beneath her.
"Beh- like 'ell he won't, Cat. He'll come down 'ere and see his lit'le prodigy sittin' in the arms of his attack-cat, and he'll shit kittens!" Toad laughed. "Mys'ique know?"
"Yes."
"And you're still alive." he said. He sighed, leaning back to watch the movie. "But I bet you anythin' tonight's gunna be a shitload o' fun." After a moment's pause, he turned back to the two of them. His face turned serious after a moment. "Eh, Vic?"
The larger feral grunted.
"You ever come across a nice lady toad, you let me know, eh?"
The feral smirked. "I'll let ya know."
She'd been knocked onto the couch as Victor lunged after Toad, but she'd be damned if she'd stayed there and missed the fight in the training rooms over the camera! If the fight hadn't been so damn silly- if there hadn't just all of a sudden been green slime everywhere- she'd have fought, too, but she was too busy laughing at her big, mean Sabretooth chasing the green, chattering hyena-slash-toad around the gym.
Her lips quirked at the memory, and she tucked the photo under her pillow for safe keeping. Maybe it would help her rest, because she knew she would not sleep. Sleep would be hard to come by until he came back for her, and she couldn't trust this place yet.
She pulled Sari closer to her, and let out a tired sigh.
'Where are you, mon lion, my Victor?'
They were dragging her in by her ankles; her body was bruised, bloody, and broken. With the injection they had forced on her earlier that morning- 'Morning? Day? Night?'- her body was taking much longer to heal itself. The blood- not only her blood, but the blood of another's- was turning cold as it dried, sticking on her skin, but she was too injured to shiver. In the midst of her world of pain, a single swatch of hair was hanging over her face, tickling her, and she had no strength left to move a hand to remove it. She had no breath to blow it away- she'd stopped breathing a few minutes before, but her mutation wouldn't let her lose consciousness. Her lungs were punctured, collapsed, and she could feel them hanging limply in her chest, and feel the burn in them as her body screamed at her to breathe in. Her heartbeat had slowed to a mere handful of beats per minute, and every time she felt it, it throbbed a dull ache throughout her body- refusing to let her die.
She let out a weak, breathless grunt as they pulled her through a doorway, knocking her head on the threshold. Her vision- what little there was left of it- went white for a few seconds, but when it cleared, she knew exactly were she was. Panic clouded over her, telling her- screaming at her- to move, move, MOVE! But try as she might, her beaten frame would not follow her mental commands. They were putting her up on the exam table now. They were strapping her in, tying her down.
". . . and what about number ten . . ."
". . . not fare well against the . . ."
They were speaking in another language- one she could not decipher by body language alone. The only words she recognized beyond the number name they'd given her, she never wanted to hear again. She tried to listen over the sound of her lungs screaming for breath- her veins throbbing with the weak beat of her heart. She thought maybe soon, she'd black out and not wake back up. Panic was overwhelming her- taking over her, drowning her.
A loud creak told her they were opening the tank.
'PAS, DIEU, NE LES LAISSANT PAS ME METTRE DANS LE RESERVOIR!'
She could hear herself whimper, and felt the hot sting of tears coming into her damaged eyes.
". . . another 20 cc's . . ."
". . . about the body . . ."
". . . made me proud- we don't . . ."
". . . Sir, number 15 is dead."
She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to wash Damon's blood off her body. Most of all, she wanted to die.
'Oh, Damon, I am so sorry . . . you were my only friend . . . the only one who knew . . . Gods, Goddesses, what have I done? . . .'
She could smell the liquid- see it in her mind- and knew she was being put in the tank. Her mind burned with the realization, pumping out as much anesthetizing hormones as they could, not knowing that no amount of adrenalin could make her able to move- it only kept her blood from clotting so she bled more. She felt a sharp prick in her shoulder, then another in the vein on her forearm. Needles. Her skin crawled; her brain continued to scream.
Her lungs quickly healed, re-inflating, and she drew in a light, painful, shuddering breath.
'No . . let me die . . . please . . . just let me die . . .'
". . . six hours . . ."
". . . it will heal . . ."
The water was cold- it was always so cold- when they lowered her naked body in.
'NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!'
To be continued . . .