"I wonder why they just didn't teleport her away when they had a chance?" It was a good thing I was concentrating on using the Eye; I think that I might have fainted if I had to actually watch his driving.

"I have two guesses, mon ami." Gambit expertly moved the motorcycle between two cars in a space tight enough at I could almost feel the metal of their sides touch my legs. "First, this Blythe, she may not have the power to keep my Rogue out and transport at the same time. Second … second she is bait."

"Bait? You think they want you too?"

"I do not think it is me they want, mon ami."

I blinked. "Me? Why on Earth would they want me?"

"Because you are strong in the magic? Because you thwarted them and they carry a grudge? It could be any reason."

I felt … well, not afraid exactly. (Okay, maybe there was some fear.) But mostly I felt … exhilarated? Excited? I was important enough that they wanted to account for me?

That was oddly flattering.

And rather disturbing.

Attracting attention was a bad idea. The Plan was going to be difficult enough as it was—I didn't really need everyone and his kid sister wanting a piece of me. I wasn't arrogant enough to think I could take that kind of heat—not yet, anyway.

So why on Earth did I like it so much? Did I really want to matter that badly?

"Still nothing on the mental party line?"

"Non. My guess is that this Blythe may be blocking telepathic communication."

"Won't that alert the others that something is wrong?"

"Not for Remy, no. Emma knew I was going out. She may be giving my Rogue some privacy and not be overly concerned with silence on her part." Remy (Gambit! Dammit! Gambit! Not Remy. Stop thinking of him as someone I'd like to be friends with—and Rogue as someone I'd like to be more than friends with) sighed. "Emma, she not too fond of Remy."

"A woman immune to your charms? I'm shocked!"

"She the exception that proves the rule, mon ami!" Gambit threw his head back and laughed.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed with him. "Must be tough being so irresistible!"

"It is a burden that Remy does his best to bear, mon ami." Remy chuckled.

"They're turning."

"Of course they are. That way lies nothing but the old warehouse district. A perfect place for a lair." Beat. "Or an ambush."

"Wonderful."

"You plan on staying in this business long enough and you'll learn all about these kinds of things."

"This business?"

"The hero business, mon ami."

"I'm not exactly a hero, Remy." Gambit. Gambit dammit.

"That's what Remy used to say."

The van pulled into one of the warehouses.

"Can you see inside the warehouse?" Remy asked me.

"I'm a sorcerer not Kryptonian. I'm able to locate Rogue because of your connection to her. I know she's there. I know she's alive. And that's it."

"Then we will do this the old fashioned way." Remy shut off the motor of the motorcycle and we coasted into a nearby alley. "Wait here. Remy will scout this out."

"Gambit, wait."

"You not trained for this sort of thing, mon ami. I know you wish to be the gallant knight but …" Gambit reached into his belt and pulled out a metal rod which telescoped out into a staff.

"If that's the girl who attacked Rogue earlier all she has to do is open her mouth and you're going down for the count."

"There is that." Gambit paused. "What do you suggest?"

"I'm not a psychic, but I do have an idea." When casting a spell—a new spell—the first thing a sorcerer needs to do is conceptualize the results. I knew what I wanted. Once I had the image in my mind, all I had to do was cast the spell. "Shield of Seraphim."

"Um, mon ami? What did you just do?"

"A quick spell. The scream is both psychic and sonic. You're not going to be able to detect the frequency of the scream. It won't last long. About fifteen minutes. So make them count."

Gambit grinned at me. "Gambit does everything fast." He paused. "Well, almost everything." He raised his hand in salute and then leaped towards the upper story of the warehouse."

So, yeah. All I had to do was sit at the motorcycle and wait for Gambit to do the heroic thing. He was the professional. There was no reason to assume that he couldn't kick butt and take names and have Rogue out in time for the three of us to have a nice lunch …

The three of us?

Yeah, being the third wheel in that relationship would be so much fun…

So, the sitting and waiting. Yeah. That was all I had to do.

Yeah. Just sit and wait …

I pulled that off for about two whole minutes before I decided to take a look and see what Gambit was up to.

I'm not exactly built for climbing, but being a sorcerer means that I don't have to.

I can't fly.

A powerful sorcerer—i.e., someone with a lot more power than me—can fly but they generally prefer to use a cloak of levitation or a similar enchanted item so they don't have to waste their personal energy—but even a journeyman mage like me can pull acts of levitation.

What's the difference, you ask?

Leverage.

I scanned the upper story of the warehouse until I found the ledge where Remy had entered it. It wasn't large, but as long as it was sturdy enough, it'd work.

Levitation is different than most forms of magic the Lady taught me. Levitation comes from within the sorcerer not by channeling energy from other realms. It's easier in some ways, but more … limited.

Hence, the leverage comment.

For me to reach the second story, I needed something to hold onto. Something to pull myself up with.

The tricky thing … the thing that made me nervous … was that if the ledge broke, then I would fall … and it would quite possibly hurt.

A lot.

I reached out with my mind and took a firm hold onto the ledge. I tugged at it … wincing as I heard it creak … and then I pulled.

I left my stomach on the ground for a moment and clung tightly to the window sill as I waited for it to catch up. "I HATE that."

When my stomach did decide that it wasn't going to jump out of my throat, I looked through the window.

Gambit was going to town.

He was jumping, leaping, running, tossing energy-charged cards, and in general acting like a much hotter version of the Tasmanian Devil …

(Yeah, I said it. I may be a guy but I can tell when another guy is good looking. I'd just rather not to.)

He was fighting what looked like a small army of guys and women … I was vaguely surprised they weren't wearing any sort of uniform. Street people were mixed in with blue collar workers and suited executives. They were armed with clubs and knives and shovels and rakes and whatever that they could put their hands on. They fought with ferocity and faces that seemed devoid of all expression.

The van that had driven off with Rogue was in the center of the warehouse. Now that I wasn't touching Remy I could no longer sense her presence, but I had no reason to doubt that she was still there.

Their blank expressions told me that the Warehouse Gang wasn't exactly doing this of their own free will. Given the way that Remy was fighting it was apparent that he had noticed it as well: he was doing his best to avoid seriously injuring them.

I pondered.

On the one hand, as long as he was keeping them busy, there was a chance I could sneak into the warehouse and try to free Rogue myself.

On the other, it was only a matter of time before Remy was either forced to seriously hurt them in order to avoid being overwhelmed or wound up losing the fight.

And without him, I'd be facing a telepath all by my inexperienced lonesome.

"This wouldn't be necessary if the X-Men just carried cell phones," I muttered to myself.

Of course I wasn't carrying one either, but then again there hadn't been anyone that I ever expected to talk to again on an ongoing basis …

The other thing of course was that I had to get into the warehouse in order to do anything …

I sighed.

"Now all I have to do is figure out how to get down …"