Hot Dames and Hot Lead

by alcimines

Set in a noir-ish 1930s alternative universe. Logan and Lehnsherr run the biggest gangs in town. Domino is a hard-boiled private eye. Rogue is her secretary and lover. And the client is the mysterious and beautiful Emma Frost. Surely such a lovely woman couldn't be full of lies? Right? This is actually a series of self-contained stories.

14. The Case of the Lost Day

THE CASE OF THE LOST DAY

With a groan, I blinked awake. Then, slowly and painfully, I sat up and looked around.

I was in a dusty, empty, room. There was a rug underneath me. My jacket had been rolled up and put under my head as a makeshift pillow. The room was small but had an old-fashioned high ceiling. The only furniture was the rug I'd slept on, and a broken-legged table that had been flipped on its side and shoved into a corner. The paint was peeling from the walls and there were streamers of spider-webs dangling from the ceiling. The orange light of a setting sun - or maybe a rising one - was streaming through a cracked and dirty window.

Nothing in my head seemed to want to come together and make sense. I felt dizzy, bleary, and gritty. I didn't know where I was or what had happened to me.

After rubbing my face, my hands came away covered in dust.

Then I took a deep breath and tried to fit together the pieces that were called 'who', 'what', 'where', 'when', 'how', and 'why'. A few things clicked together, but not as much as I would have liked.

My name's Marie and I'm a private eye. I have a partner and girlfriend named Domino. Dom and I have an office, a secretary, and an apartment. We have a few friends and a once-upon-a-time ex-boyfriend that we both sort-of like and sort-of hate. I even have a mother who lives here in town, but...

But I didn't have a clue where I was or how I'd got there.

After struggling to my feet, a wave of dizziness almost knocked me back down again. I had to brace myself against the nearest wall to keep from falling.

I looked down at myself. Everything seemed to be in one piece. I had all of my clothes, except for my shoes. My high heels had been removed and neatly placed next to where I'd been sleeping. My purse was next to my shoes. Otherwise, I was wearing a blouse, skirt, and stockings that were covered with dust and grime.

I felt gritty and filthy.

Carefully probing my memories, I tried once again to remember what had happened and how I'd come to be in that room.

Nothing came to me.

---

After putting on my shoes, I checked my purse. I had money, cosmetics, a driver's license, a library card, a reporter's-style notebook, a pen, my .44 revolver and some reloads. As near as I could tell, nothing had been taken or even disturbed. Whatever had happened to me, it wasn't a robbery.

After pulling my revolver out of my purse, I explored the house. That meant staggering from room to room, using my free hand to support myself against walls and doors. There was nobody else present, but the backdoor looked like it had been kicked open. Otherwise, the rooms were empty, except for a few items of broken furniture and a general scatter of trash and debris.

In places, the dust was so thick that I could make out tracks. There were two sets that went from the broken backdoor to the room where I'd woke up. One set of footprints were from a man's shoes. The other prints were from a pair of high-heels - my high-heels.

Just inside the backdoor was a spot that particularly bothered me.

There was a scuffed tangle of footprints. It looked like I'd leaned back against a wall, with whoever was wearing the man's shoes facing me. Then I got up on my toes.

It looked like we'd kissed. And it had lingered. The wall I had rested against was cleared of dust in a pattern that somehow suggested to me that I'd been enthusiastic about what was happening. I didn't fight that kiss. Actually, I'd cooperated eagerly.

I touched my mouth. Yes, my lipstick was smeared. But offhand, I couldn't think of anyone besides my girlfriend who I was inclined to lock lips with. And besides, I had Dom and I was happy. I wasn't inclined to wander.

A memory came to me. It was a memory of me and someone other than Dom.

Logan. My old boyfriend. He was the big boss here in town. After I broke up with him, Dom and I took up with each other, but I'm willing to admit that my time with Logan had been special.

It wasn't just the great sex. There were also those moments when we were alone and Logan was so kind and gentle. That was a side of him that nobody else saw. I loved that. It was a glimpse of the man Logan had once been and maybe could become again.

I frowned to myself. That was an odd thing to have appear in my head. Especially since there was no way the man's tracks were Logan's - the prints were too big and Logan was too short for the spacing between them.

Then a surge of... something... washed over me. Attraction? Lust? I needed to find Logan. I needed to find him and make him mine again, just like in the old days.

I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me? The thing between me and Logan... that was a long time ago. We'd split up. I took up with Dom, while Logan seemed content to hang out with the kind of women who always attached themselves to the richest and most powerful man around. Why, after so much time, was I thinking about him that way? It didn't make any sense.

There was a fragment of a full-length mirror mounted on a closet door. I stared into it. Then I made a quick check of my clothes - opening my blouse and lifting my skirt to check my underclothes.

There were some dried and feathery-white stains on my lower torso and in my panties, but there were no bites, bruises, or scratches.

I'd had sex, but I didn't know who with.

---

Standing outside the house, there was no sign of anyone else. That wasn't too surprising. It turned out that I was in a beat-up part of town called Piedmont. Once upon a time, it had been a thriving community filled with factories and homes. But then the factories closed and the homes were slowly and steadily abandoned.

When you say 'the bad part of town' in this city, most people think about Piedmont. Decent people - a lot of them elderly - still live in Piedmont, but bums and hobos were steadily taking over. Some of those bums and hobos were dangerous. I put my gun back in my purse, but I left it hanging open.

There was no sign of a car anywhere near the house where I'd woke up, but in the dirt of the back alley, there were some semi-fresh tire-tracks from what looked like a mid-sized automobile. A few partial foot-prints were from me and whoever had been with me. We got out of the car and then walked into the house, but only the larger set of prints came back. The larger prints seemed to be staggering just before they got back into the car.

I took a closer look at the broken backdoor. Judging from a scuff mark just below the now-missing doorknob, the door had been kicked open. And from the marks, I could tell that it was the man who'd done the kicking. That's not easy to do. Whoever they were, they were fairly strong.

From the direction of the sun, it was obviously early evening.

There was some rainwater puddled in a decaying concrete foundation. I used that and a stray rag that I scavenged from a clothes-line to clean the worst of the dust and grime from my hands, face, and clothes. By the time I was done, the water puddle was dark-gray in color. I didn't feel particularly clean, but at least I looked and felt a little better.

Once again, I probed my memories. Some things were clearer. I remembered going to work and exchanging a cheerful greeting with our secretary. My partner - Dom - was out of town, talking to a client who'd insisted on a personal report. We warn out-of-town clients that they have to pay extra for travel and expenses if we visit them personally, but there are always a few who want that kind of service.

So I'd gone to work, said 'hi' to Sooraya, sat down at my desk, and...

And then nothing. I couldn't even remember what case I was working on. Or even if I was working a case.

I checked my notebook. There was some stuff from a few days back, but nothing recent. Of course, Dom always gives me hell about not keeping my notes up to date.

Suddenly, I was trembling. I took a few deep breaths and managed to shove down the beginning of real panic. It turns out that strange gaps in your memory are a scary thing. Especially when those gaps were filled with things you really wanted to have explained.

On the other hand, my stomach was telling me that I was hungry. And my mouth was dry. I'd been asleep in that house for some time.

Fortunately, there was a place within walking distance where I might be able to get some help. I still felt shaky, but I thought I could make it.

---

State University is located right next to Piedmont. That's an accident of history that has caused a lot of problems. The cops make it a priority to keep street people away from campus, and there are ugly stories about the cops handing out beatings for the crime of being down on your luck.

I knew people at the University. Some were students. Some were teachers. But there was only one person who I'd call a friend. Her name's Jean Grey and she's trying to buck the odds and get a college degree. Jean's a smart lady, but some of the more traditional types still frown on the idea of an educated woman. She takes a lot of crap because of that.

Jean's a psychic. And that meant she has some peculiar talents that might be helpful to someone who had a big hole in her memory.

Unfortunately, Jean probably wasn't around. I didn't have her school schedule memorized, but I did vaguely remember her mentioning that she didn't have any evening classes that semester. Of course, she could be on-campus doing some late studying. Sometimes it seems like Jean always has her nose in a book.

---

It was about a half-mile to campus. I had to stop and rest a few times because of dizziness. A bum, sensing weakness, tried to give me a hard time. I solved the problem by showing him that I was packing a gun. Lucky for him, he took the hint. I wasn't feeling very patient.

The first thing I did when I got to campus was find a water fountain and damn near drink it dry. Then I checked out the library and student union - the usual places where Jean might be studying. But she wasn't at either of them.

No surprise, but some people were staring at me. After all, I looked like I'd rolled around on the floor of an alleyway.

I eventually found myself standing on the steps of the library, trying to remember which bus would get me home when I finally ran into someone I knew. However, it was someone unexpected.

"Marie?" Janet Van Dyne gasped in surprise when she saw me. "Are you all right?"

That question made sense given how I looked. I was catching a lot of awkward looks from students and I was beginning to wonder when the cops would show up and start asking questions. Actually, it was surprising that they hadn't already put in an appearance.

I gave Janet a long and tired look. She has short black hair, blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a dynamite smile. Like always, she was dressed to the nines. She's a fashion designer who's pretty well known up and down the east coast. Personally, she tended to wear clothes that didn't reveal a lot, but are so bright and cheerful that you don't really notice the modesty.

I happen to know there's a reason that Janet doesn't show a lot of skin. It's kinda creepy, but I suppose it's her business.

"I'm fine, Janet," I told her. Then, without thinking, I asked, "Can you give me a lift to my place?"

Janet took a long moment to look me up and down. I could tell from the expression on her face that she was worried.

"Sure," she told me. "But Hank's office is just around the corner and he's not here right now. Do you want to clean up first?"

Actually, that sounded like a great idea.

---

When we got to Hank's office, the first thing I did was use the phone to call Sooraya.

Sooraya was still at work, which meant she was staying late. And she was worried.

"Miss Marie..." she began - Dom and I just can't get her to be less formal, "where have you been? Do you need help?"

I opened my mouth to answer. Then I realized that I really didn't have any explanations. And anything I said would only worry her even more.

"I'm fine," I told her with less than complete honesty. "Sorry for being out of touch. Are there any messages for me?"

"No, Miss Marie, but..."

I interrupted her. "Can you give me a rundown on the latest case?"

I could almost feel Sooraya's surprise through the phone. "Miss Domino is still in Atlantic City, consulting with Mr. Wright and his lawyer. You gave me your report on the Sawyers case yesterday morning. I typed it up and its waiting for your signature. We don't have an active case at the moment, but you did talk to a possible client yesterday."

I remembered the Wright and Sawyers cases. One was a big insurance-fraud investigation and the other was about a philandering husband. Both were completely ordinary.

"I was about to call Miss Domino and tell her that you were missing," Sooraya added.

"There's no need for that," I told her.

Then I took a deep breath before continuing. "Sooraya, I need you to answer some questions that are gonna sound strange. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Marie," Sooraya said after a pause.

"When's the last time you saw me?"

There was a longish pause before Sooraya answered.

"I last saw you yesterday morning at about nine a.m. There was a phone call from a Mr. Carl Crane and I transferred it to you. Mr. Crane is the prospective client I mentioned earlier. You talked to him on the phone for several minutes, but because I was typing I didn't catch much of the conversation. Then you left the office. You said you were going to meet with Mr. Crane and decide if we would take his case."

I rubbed my forehead. I didn't remember most of a day, an evening, and most of the next day. And I didn't remember a Carl Crane.

"Did I tell you what Mr. Crane wanted?" I asked.

"No, Miss Marie, should I..." Sooraya replied.

I interrupted her again. "Sooraya, I need you to write something down."

Sooraya paused to grab a pen and a notepad. Then I ran down my last few hours for her, starting with waking up in that abandoned house in Piedmont and ending up in Hank Pym's office with Janet Van Dyne. I included everything that I could remember - except for the part about having screwed somebody during the time I didn't remember.

Janet heard all of it. By the time I was done, her finely plucked eyebrows were riding high on her forehead.

Once I was done, I had Sooraya read my report back to me. I added a detail or two.

"I know this all sounds crazy, Sooraya, but I'm okay," I tried to reassure her. "Don't worry and just go ahead and take care of things at the office. I'm checking this out, but I'll probably see you tomorrow morning. And I'll definitely call in. If I don't, call Dom and tell her what I just told you."

"Yes, ma'am," Sooraya replied softly.

Janet was staring at me as I hung up the phone.

---

Hank's office had its own bathroom. It didn't have a shower or bath, but it did have the kind of over-sized sink you'd normally see in a factory or a laboratory.

I stripped down and gave myself a washcloth-bath out of the sink. I probably ruined the washcloth and the hand-towel that I used. Then I washed my hair as best I good. An amazing amount of muck ended up going down the drain. I did my best to clean up after myself.

Standing naked in front of the sink, I spent a long time staring at my face in the mirror. I was hoping that something would come to me. Another memory from yesterday would be nice.

Nothing.

Janet knocked on the bathroom door.

"I went down to my car and got some clothes," she called to me. "There's a dress that I'm pretty sure is your size."

That made me hesitate. Janet's a well-known fashion designer. And a Van Dyne original costs a lot of money. I wasn't sure that I wanted to be responsible for something that cost more than a month's rent of the apartment that Dom and I share.

Janet was going way beyond anything reasonable in terms of helping someone who was in distress. And I swear I'd only ever exchanged a few words with her. Was I taking advantage of her?

Then I took a long look at my outfit. It was lying in a puddle in the corner of the bathroom and oozing dirty water.

I hesitated for another second or two. Then I shrugged.

Picking up my wet clothes, I tossed them into a trash-bin.

"Sure," I called back to Janet.

There was no point in modesty. Still naked, I opened the bathroom door. Janet kept her eyes on mine as she handed me a dress bag and a small bundle.

"Thanks," I told her.

---

"Don't get me wrong, Janet," I said, "This dress is great, but it's way too fancy for a gal like me."

"Don't be silly. It looks great on you," Janet told me with a smile. "You should get out of the private eye business and become a model."

I wasn't wearing a bra or panties, but the dress wasn't particularly thin and had a built-in slip. Janet had also loaned me a light coat. My hair was wet and there was no way to reasonably get it dry. Cold trickles were leaking down my back.

We were in the faculty lounge. Janet wasn't a teacher at the university, but she was dating one, and the staff knew her. And besides, women like Janet can always open doors - and that sort of thing is about more than just looks.

A pretty blonde waitress made me a chicken-salad sandwich and delivered it with a side of navy bean soup. I made it disappear in no time. The waitress was obviously worried about me and whipped up another sandwich. After that, she made it a point to keep my coffee cup always full. She was going to get a good tip from me.

Actually, she probably thought I was somebody important. After all, I was wearing an almost-formal dress. It was black with highlights of red around the shoulders and bust. Those colors really shouldn't have suited me - especially with my two-tone hair color - but somehow it worked. Janet's known for what she does for a darn good reason.

Janet smiled as the waitress and touched her hand in a way that lingered a bit too long. But the waitress didn't seem to mind.

"Thanks, Kelly," Janet told her. Kelly smiled at Janet in a way that suddenly reminded me that Janet was part and parcel of the Hellfire Club. I knew the sort of things a woman was expected to do at the Hellfire Club. I knew about Janet and her boyfriends.

Had they brought Kelly to the Hellfire Club? Did Kelly know what she might be getting into?

And was that any of my business? Kelly was young, but she was an adult. And so far, Janet had been nothing but good to me. There are a lot people who are inclined to judge me and my life unfairly. I try to avoid doing the same to others.

But I knew better than most that the Hellfire Club was a scary place. It finds things in you that you never knew were there.

Or maybe it just makes you more honest about yourself.

Kelly vanished into the kitchen.

I looked at Janet, "Powder room," I told her.

Janet nodded as I got to my feet.

---

I caught Kelly just as she left the kitchen. She was carrying a fresh pot of coffee.

"Ma'am, is there anything you need?" she asked me politely.

"I'm okay, Kelly," I told her - which was kind of a lie, I suppose. I was telling a lot of them lately.

"Look," I continued. "Have you ever gone with Janet to a place called the Hellfire Club?"

I was sure she'd say no. I would judge the truth of that based on how she said it. Then, pretty much no matter what she said, I'd give her a big-sister warning. Yeah, maybe I was overdoing it, but I had to make sure that Kelly understood what she might be getting into before she ended up in over her head.

Kelly's face went bright. She had a broad mouth that could produce a dynamite smile, and she hit me full-blast with one of her best.

"Yes!" she told me happily. "Janet and Dr. Pym took me there! It was great!"

Uh, okay. That was unexpected, but then again it's not like the Hellfire Club is a twenty-four hour a day orgy. Maybe Kelly just went to a cocktail party that featured a bunch of rich sickos who were keeping their wilder sides in check.

"What happened?" I asked, sure that I'd hear something blandly nondescript.

Kelly looked both ways and edged closer before responding. She still looked delighted.

"Dr. Pym took my virginity! Janet helped!" Kelly whispered intensely.

What the hell?

I stuttered some kind of response.

"And every day, after work, Janet and I go to Dr. Pym's office! We take off our clothes and he..."

I hastily held up a hand. Kelly stopped in mid-sentence.

"That's enough," I told her carefully.

Kelly nodded and suddenly seemed to calm down. I looked at her carefully. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her, although her eyes did seem oddly fascinated. It took me a moment to realize that her pupils were expanded to full size.

Was she drugged?

"Thanks for being honest," I told Kelly awkwardly. "But maybe you better get back to work."

Suddenly completely normal, Kelly nodded at me politely. Then she went back into the lounge. She was acting as if nothing odd had just happened.

---

I actually did use the bathroom. Then I went back to Janet.

Kelly topped off my coffee after I sat down. In the process, as she leaned over, she brushed one of her breasts against my shoulder.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said to me. She was all innocence, but with just a trace of a sultry and mischievous smile.

"S'okay," I answered awkwardly. Under any other circumstance, a little physical flirting from a girl as pretty as Kelly would have been fun. But everything was just too weird.

Janet watched Kelly's gently swaying form as she walked to the next table.

"I think she likes you," Janet told me with a knowing smile.

No kidding.

---

"Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" Janet asked. She wasn't quite looking at me. Instead, she was gazing into the cup in her hands.

I shrugged. "You heard what I told my secretary. After I woke up in that house over in Piedmont, I walked to campus. I have a friend who goes to school here."

I'd decided not to bring up Jean's name.

Janet looked up at me as she raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I bit my lower lip and tried to concentrate. But I hit the same wall I'd been butting up against ever since I woke up.

"Yesterday morning..." I said uncertainly. "I walked into the office and said 'hi' to Sooraya. She transferred a call to me. Then everything's blank until I woke up about two hours ago. I'm missing most of yesterday, all of last night, and much of today."

Janet considered that. "Do you think someone slipped you a mickey?"

That was a scary possibility. There are stories about men - and women - who do that sort of thing. And I knew they weren't just stories.

And I'd had sex with somebody, but didn't remember the details. Maybe I hadn't been conscious when it happened. I can't even begin to describe how creepy and scary that thought was.

"As I understand it, a mickey leaves you with a chemical hangover," I said uncertainly. "I don't exactly feel good, but I don't have that kind of headache."

"There are people who are good at that sort of thing," Janet suggested. "They can judge a dosage based on your body size. If they figure it right, you'll simply wake up later on and might just assume that you'd dozed off."

Oh, the things you learn when you're a regular at the Hellfire Club.

Then Janet took a careful breath before continuing. "When you washed up, did you notice..."

She let the rest hang.

I shook my head, wondering if she would believe me. She might have already decided that I'd been raped and didn't want to admit it. There are a lot of women who've made just that decision.

"No scratches or bruises," I told her. That was the truth, but not all the truth.

Janet nodded her head, but I could see the doubt in her eyes.

---

Janet dropped me off in the alley behind Emma Frost's apartment building. I understand that there's some history between Janet and Emma, but I didn't know the details and figured that I didn't need to know.

"Thanks," I told Janet. "And be careful. You might want to forget that you saw me."

"Let me know if you need anything," she replied.

There was an awkward pause. For whatever reason, I didn't immediately get out of Janet's car. Instead, I examined her face.

Damn, she was cute.

"You told me to be careful," Janet added. "You do the same."

That snapped me out of whatever was holding me back. I nodded and got out of the car.

Then, standing next to Janet's coupe, I hesitated once again.

Something was wrong, but...

But I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Hey - get out of the car," I told Janet suddenly. After I said that, it suddenly struck me that I was giving her an order that she had no reason to obey.

But Janet didn't hesitate. She shut down the engine and got out. I walked around the car and took one of her hands in mine.

"Is everything okay?" Janet asked. One of her thumbs slid up and down the back of my hand and that was sexy as hell. But I don't think she even realized she was doing it.

Damn, but Janet was a fine lady. Small and pixie-like, but with a good set of curves. But it wasn't just about looks. She was bright and kind. And underneath it all, she was one hell of a sexy lady. I don't like to say things like "sex-fiend", but...

Hank Pym and Bolivar Trask didn't deserve Janet. They didn't deserve her beauty, her eagerness, or her intelligence. And they sure didn't deserve that streak of "That's strange! Let's do it!" that she brought to the bedroom.

"I owe you," I told Janet as I looked into her eyes.

Janet gave me a dazzling smile as she shook her head. "No, that's okay. You..."

"I mean I really owe you," I added. Then I kissed her.

That was dead wrong. I really didn't know Janet well enough for that. And I was betraying Dom.

Even weirder, the kiss went on and on. Within a few seconds, there was no way to pretend it was just an awkward 'thank you' that had gone a little too far. And Janet wasn't resisting me at all. In fact, her hands were eagerly tracing the curves of my body. Of course, I was doing the same to her.

What the hell?

I actually broke away first. By then Janet had her hands up my dress. The hem was up to my waist I could feel cool air on my bare legs. Janet was caressing the skin of my upper thighs and that felt like heaven.

I'd been busy, too. Janet's blouse was unbuttoned, her bra ajar, and a very nice pair of pink nipples were cheerfully peeking up at me.

"Wow," I said with a surprised blink of my eyes. Then, regretfully, I pulled my hands away from Janet's body.

Janet suddenly looked utterly embarrassed - her face changing in a split-second from "do me, baby!"

to "what the hell am I doing?!". She pulled her hands out of my dress and then tucked everything she was showing back under cover.

I really regretted losing sight of those now-vanished nipples. They were cute.

"I don't..." she said confusedly. "Oh, Marie, I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me!"

Huh? As I recalled, I'd been the aggressor in what had just happened. And by 'aggressor' I mean 'the kind of man your mother warns you about'.

"Hey, sorry," I said awkwardly. "It's been a strange day. We're just... we're kinda off-kilter I guess."

That sounded weak even to me, but Janet instantly nodded in agreement. I suppose we were both looking for excuses. I licked my lips while trying not to think about licking Janet.

But neither of us actually moved. And there was almost no space between us. The difference between 'kissing' and 'not kissing' was about three inches. And the tops of her breasts were brushing against the bottom of mine.

"So... sorry," I finished absurdly. "And thanks again for all the help."

Janet nodded again. Her eyes were still locked on mine.

And neither of us moved. Long seconds ticked away as we just stared at each other. I knew what was going through Janet's head. She was wordlessly offering me everything she had to give, and I was pretty damn close to taking her up on it.

"If we don't actually move," I told Janet slowly. "We're going to end up naked in the backseat of your car. I'd love that, but I'm a mess right now. The least I could do is take a real bath first."

That broke the moment. Janet smiled as we both backed away.

"You ever need help, you call me," I told her. "Don't even hesitate."

Then Janet nodded and got back in her car.

I shook my head as Janet backed her car out of the alley. She waved at me and I waved back.

"If someone slipped me something, they need to bottle and sell it," I told the empty alleyway.

Those were tough-girl words, but I didn't really mean them. More than ever, I was scared.

---

Unfortunately, Jean wasn't home. She was in Newark, attending some kind of lecture. It was big-science stuff that I didn't have a prayer of understanding.

On the other hand, Emma was at home. That wasn't what I wanted, but I needed help from someone who could read minds.

I try not to hate Emma Frost, but she's a pain in the ass. She's rich, spoiled, a complete slut, and convinced that she's better than everyone else. Even worse, she has designs on my girl. And I don't care how rich and beautiful Emma may be, she's not taking Dom from me.

To be fair, Emma and I have mended a lot of fences over the last year. It turns out that Emma's strangely dependable when things go wrong. And I've seen her help people who needed a hand. As near as I can tell, she feels an obligation to help her inferiors. And as far as she's concerned, she has a lot of inferiors.

Emma has a servant girl named Simone. She's a dark and slender Haitian woman who never speaks unless spoken to. If you look close, and the light is just right, you can see a swirl of almost perfectly healed scar-tissue on every inch of her visible skin. A man named Essex used her as a lab animal, turning her into a powered body-guard. Essex is dead - and good riddance - but whenever I see Simone, I pray that he had been a believer in anesthetic.

So Emma offered me a chair and Simone handed me a drink. I immediately slugged the drink down. Emma tried not to smile as she carefully sipped her own whiskey. I suppose she'll always think of me as unmannered white-trash.

Hey, she's not all wrong. I once figured out that when Emma was having her coming-out party, I was wading through a marsh, gigging for frogs.

Simone immediately poured me another drink. Emma's taste in whiskey, like everything else, was fine and expensive. I took my time with the second drink as I told Emma the same story I'd told Sooraya and Janet.

When Janet's name came up, Emma wasn't quite able to hide a reaction. As I said, there's history between those two. According to Dom, they'd once been lovers. Then it fell through on Janet's terms, not on Emma's. Incredible as it sounds, Emma had lost someone. Where Emma was concerned, Janet was the one who got away.

Emma was frowning by the time I was done with my story. Then she got up from her leather easy-chair and stood behind me. Her fingers were cool as they carefully stroked the side of my face. I could feel the tingle of her mind brushing up against mine.

I could sense the worry that filled her.

"I'm going to go deep inside of you," Emma warned me.

I swear she says things like that just to bother me.

"Then you better get to it," I told her nervously. I just wish it was Jean instead. Jean knew when to stop, while Emma has a set of rules that only she understood. With Emma, you always suspected that she was wandering through every bad memory you had, all the while laughing at your failures and pain.

Emma put her palms on my temples, the fingers of her hands curling around my forehead. Then I felt her slide into me. Jean is so gentle when she does that. Emma always seems impatient and harsh.

*Stop thinking about Dom,* she ordered me. *That's not a bad way to side-track a telepath, but I can't have you being defensive. Now be a good little girl and clear your mind.*

I nodded, close my eyes, and tried to relax. That last part was almost impossible. I just didn't trust Emma and she could obviously sense that.

Emma shifted position. Now one hand was flat on the side of my head, while the other was around my shoulder, with the forearm pressed against the side of my windpipe. She applied pressure but wasn't rough about it.

Seconds passed. Everything became hazy. I stopped resisting. Then Emma effortlessly dove deep inside of me, like a swimmer trying to find the bottom of a lake.

More time passed. Emma was so far inside of me that I couldn't tell what she was doing, or what she was seeing.

Everything felt distant and disconnected. It wasn't obviously unpleasant, but...

But I wished it was Jean instead of Emma who was cuddled nude in my arms. And I could sense her smile as I writhed under her touch.

Except it wasn't Jean. And it wasn't Emma - it was someone else. Another blonde. A blonde who was even prettier than Emma. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't pin it down.

The blonde put her lips to my ear and whispered that she loved me. All the while, her body was moving rhythmically. There was a man in bed with us and he was behind the blonde. I looked in his direction and...

Striking out blindly, I gasped awake. Emma immediately let me go and backed away. Her face was a mask, not showing any emotion.

I automatically ran my hands over my body. I was still dressed. That last part - that part with a blonde who wasn't Emma - had just been in my head.

Then I blinked hard. Emma always dressed in white. Why was she wearing...

I couldn't focus on the color. I just knew it was dark.

Then I blinked again, and Emma was suddenly back to normal.

"I didn't find much," Emma told me. Now she definitely seemed worried. "You were in your office. You talked to Sooraya. She said she was transferring a call to you from a fellow named Crane. And after that, there's nothing much until you woke up in that old house. Oh, and there was something that felt more like a sexual fantasy than a memory. Something about you in bed with a man and a woman? She was blonde and very beautiful? Does that sound familiar?"

Hissing in frustration, I ran my fingers through my hair. I chose to ignore Emma's question.

"Take off your clothes," Emma told me.

---

Believe it or not, I didn't hesitate. Hesitation would make Emma think that I was scared of her, and there are people on this earth who you shouldn't show fear. Besides, Emma and I had been naked in front of each other before - and in Emma's strange little world, servants like Simone really don't count. I felt a flash of irritation for finding myself feeling the same way. Somehow, you always seem to end up playing by Emma's rules.

Simone dimmed the lights in the living room. It was a respectful gesture towards my modesty that really wasn't necessary, but I still appreciated it.

Simone helped me unzip the dress that Janet had loaned me. Then she took off my high-heels and slipped the dress the rest of the way off of my body. That was weird, but she treated it like the most normal thing in the world. It struck me as likely that one of Simone's duties was to help Emma dress and undress. I wondered if she did the same for Jean.

Once I was naked, Emma gave me a complete once over, carefully examining every inch of my body. She even checked under my arms, on the insides of my thighs, and the soles of my feet. She was free with her hands, not hesitating to do as she wished. However, there was a distant aspect to what she was doing. I don't know if Emma keeps horses, but if she did, I could imagine her handling a mare the same way.

It was incredibly intimate, but not even vaguely exciting.

When she was done, Emma sat back down, her face thoughtful. Simone handed me my dress. I folded it up, sat down, and parked the dress in my lap. That left me bare-breasted, with my naked butt in a leather chair, but I really didn't mind. Actually, I have a better body than Emma and I don't mind reminding her of that. The only thing that really bothered me was that my toenail polish needed to be re-done. I don't like to look incomplete when I'm around Emma.

Emma was staring at me, but it wasn't because I wasn't wearing any clothes.

"What were you looking for?" I asked.

"Mostly, I was looking for injection marks," Emma told me seriously. "Sometimes, after the fact, you don't always feel them."

"Did you find any?" I asked - irritated that I had to ask.

"No," Emma replied thoughtfully. She was still staring at me.

I felt a flicker of something halfway between anger and fear.

"Emma, what the hell is wrong!" I demanded.

Emma took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

"It seems to me that there are two possibilities. One is that you were drugged, or somehow otherwise rendered unconscious, and a rather odd man had his way with you."

I nodded. Strangely, I didn't find that thought too upsetting. In fact, it seemed to me that it would be an almost comfortingly normal explanation of what had happened to me.

"The other is that you've encountered a mind-controller," Emma concluded.

I didn't laugh.

---

I stood up - the dress folded onto my lap fell to the floor - and helped myself to a refill of Emma's expensive whiskey. I suppose I should of asked. And I was also doing Simone's job for her, and even I know that's rude.

Standing in front of a tall and wide window, not giving a damn about who might see me, I looked up at the moon. It was familiar and reassuring.

Suddenly, Simone was standing next to me, holding an open robe. I put my arms through it. Simone tucked it around me - her strong arms oddly comforting - and then belted it off for me. Her warm breath tickled my ear. She seemed unconcerned about having her arms around my body. For a moment, I wondered how she fit into the relationship between Emma and Jean. I could see Emma casually demanding sex from a servant, but that was something Jean wouldn't tolerate.

Unless, of course, Simone made it clear that she was completely and honestly willing to play. Jean would know if Simone was being sincere. And I knew that Jean had a carefully controlled wild streak - very wild, as a matter of fact. Whenever Jean let it out to play, it was a hell of an experience.

I turned to look at Simone. She looked back at me. Even in the dim light, when my eyes met hers I saw so much in them.

Emma was sitting behind us, watching us carefully.

"Mademoiselle. Merci." Simone said very quietly. The pupils of her brown eyes were wide and fascinated. Her lips were parted and trembling slightly.

I had a hand on one of Simone's breasts, squeezing gently. I didn't remember putting my hand on her.

Simone put her hand over mine, but it wasn't to push my hand away. Instead, she held it closer.

"Merci," Simone repeated as she closed her eyes in pure sensation. Through her blouse and bra, I could feel a nipple hardening under my palm. In this case, "please," definitely didn't mean "please stop".

Just the opposite, as a matter of fact.

Simone yanked gently on the belt holding my robe shut. The robe fell open. Then Simone's free hand was on my body...

Emma took a sip from her drink. Simone and I just didn't care that she was watching.

"Stop," I told Simone softly. I had to do that. Otherwise, Simone would begin servicing me in just a few seconds. And there was no way I would do that to Simone. Especially in front of Emma.

Regretfully, Simone slowly took her hands off of me.

I touched her lips with one of my fingers. She kissed it as she once again belted my robe shut.

Then I looked over Simone's shoulder at Emma. Simone and I were still in front of the window. Behind me, the city was lit up by bright electricity and pale moonlight. The shadows that cast into the dimly lit living room were haunting.

"A mind-controller," I said to Emma slowly. Those two words were actually a whole range of questions.

"A mind-controller," Emma repeated. "And a very powerful one. I'm sorry, Marie, but it's the only explanation that fits."

Emma put down her drink. "What you just did to Simone. That's a manifestation. You've absorbed the power to control minds. You can demand obedience from others."

I glanced at Simone. She still wanted me - I could feel it.

"Maybe I should be going," I heard myself say. I wasn't sure if Simone was safe around me. The same might be true of Emma, but I wasn't as worried about her.

"After you absorb powers from someone, how long does that usually take to wear off?" Emma asked.

I shook my head. "It's different. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow. I've had it hang on for days."

"Marie," Emma began softly, and the fact she actually said my name was something to worry about, "you need to stay here."

Then she hesitated for a few seconds, obviously searching for words.

"Please, stay," she finished. "I can help you."

I smiled at Emma. "'Please'? That must have hurt."

Emma licked her lips. I was shocked to realize that she was nervous. Maybe even frightened.

"Are you comfortable with what you just did to Simone?"

I tried not to look in Simone's direction. Suddenly, I felt terribly ashamed. I'd enjoyed Simone's eager attention. Her willingness to surrender to me.

"No," I admitted.

"In your mind, I saw your encounters with Janet and that Kelly girl," Emma told me. "Do you understand that you were controlling them? That's why Kelly was so ridiculously honest when you questioned her. That's why Janet was so helpful - and why you two almost ended up having sex in the backseat of her car."

I slowly nodded my head.

"I know you don't want to hurt anyone," Emma told me carefully, "but you don't have complete control of yourself or your powers. Some of that mind-controller is in your head, and he doesn't give a damn what he does to anyone else. He's influencing you."

I didn't say anything.

"So let's have some girl-talk," Emma said after taking a drink from her glass. "I've always thought Sooraya was attractive. Darkly-pretty. Modest. Polite and submissive. How do you feel about her?"

I deliberately didn't meet Emma's eyes. That might trigger the power that was contaminating me.

"You know how the hell I feel," I growled at Emma.

Emma nodded. "So what might happen if you leave here and go back to the office? And pretty little Sooraya is loyally waiting for you? So willing to please? And, like always, she's dressed so modestly that it's almost a challenge?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Stop it, Emma."

"What if you're walking down the street and some idiot honks his car horn and yells something at you? Have you ever wanted to tell men like that to go drive off a cliff?"

I took a sharp breath.

Emma kept talking. "That's why you have to stay here, Marie. And Jean will be back soon. I know you don't trust me, but you definitely trust her. She'll be able to help you in a way I can't."

I almost desperately waved a hand at Emma. "I get it. I'll stay."

Simone was still by my side. I turned my head and looked at her. Her dark eyes met mine, but this time I just saw deep worry and real sympathy.

Glittering on Simone's neck was a silver cross. It was the sort of thing that mothers give their daughters in the hope that the Almighty would look after a girl's safety and innocence.

If only it were that easy.

Without thinking, suddenly shaking like a leaf, I leaned over and kissed Simone's cross. My lips were part-open and I could taste both silver and the salt of the day's sweat on Simone. The cross was warm from Simone's body heat. Her perfume was clean and simple - nothing like the ridiculously expensive stuff Emma was wearing.

Simone whispered kind words to me as she put her hands on my shoulders and held me close. Then she kissed me on top of my head.

Oh, dear God. I was almost in tears. But there was no way I'd let that bitch Emma Frost see me cry.

Damn it.

I resolutely turned away from Simone and went back to staring out the window.

Emma waited until I was more-or-less back in control. "Get some sleep," she told me softly. That was actually an order.

I agreed by not saying anything.

---

Simone escorted me to Jean's room and turned down the covers of Jean's bed for me. Then she helped me out of the robe and found me a light silk shift. I pulled it over my head. Simone smoothed it down over my body, her hands running along my flanks. How much of that was her and how much of it was me influencing her, I couldn't tell.

I won't lie. I've dreamed about being in that bed - with Jean next to me. Hell, more than once, on lonely nights when Dom happened to be away, I'd happily diddled myself to that very thought. The simple truth is that it's possible to be in love but still think about other men and women. God has to test us at all times, I suppose.

He had one more test for me that night. After I finally slipped into bed, Simone leaned over and whispered a quiet offer. One last act of service before calling it a night.

I shook my head. "No, but thanks," I told her - and I meant it.

Simone didn't seem insulted. She kissed me again, but it was different this time. And she took off her necklace and pressed it into my hands. Perhaps, from her point of view, she thought I was possessed by a demon.

The door closed behind her.

That left me staring up at the ceiling, with a silver cross in my hand as I whispered prayers.

---

I was on the couch in Emma's living room. I was wearing the shift that Simone had given me earlier, but now it was shamelessly shoved up above my waist. I was bare from the navel down.

Emma was kneeling before me, barefoot and dressed in tattered and filthy white rags. She had a black eye, a bloody nose, and her body was covered with marks.

Jean and Simone were on the couch, one to either side of me. They were wearing nothing but elegant wisps of silk that covered little and concealed nothing. Totally devoted to me, they were wantonly pressing their bodies against mine. Jean was licking my ear and gently squeezing one of my breasts. Simone was kissing my neck and had a hand between my legs.

Sooraya handed me a drink, bowed, and stepped away. She was naked except for a very tiny apron. She'd wept when I told her she'd never wear real clothes again, but she was adapting quickly.

In the bedroom, Logan and Remi were waiting for me. They were under strict orders to tease each other, but never quite bring each other to climax. When I finally went to them, they would be all but helpless with need.

In the middle of the living room, a monster was dying. It was the Egyptian. He was in the last form I'd seen him in, just before we destroyed him. Something that I couldn't quite see - was there a flaming skull? - loomed over the Egyptian. It was beating the Egyptian to death with a red-hot chain. The Egyptian was trying to scream for mercy, but I wasn't allowing him to have a voice. The best he could do was gasp and moan.

Somehow, I knew the creature with the chain was a woman named Maria.

The Egyptian took a particularly vicious blow and the back of his skull caved in. Then it died.

Blood was splattered over Emma's back and on my legs. Emma looked up at me, giving me a helpless look of sheer terror.

"Clean it up," I told her with grim satisfaction.

Emma began licking the blood from my feet.

Then the door to the apartment opened and Dom came inside.

Her face was haunted. She was carrying a gun.

---

I opened my eyes and cursed softly. Sunlight was streaming through the window.

Jean was curled up in a chair that was turned to face the bed. She was awake and she was sleepily smiling at me. She was still in her traveling clothes, but her coat was hanging from a rack in the corner and she'd kicked off her shoes. The sunlight was outlining her body and turning her hair into fire.

She let out a wide, cat-like, yawn that was right for someone like me, but not for a gently-raised lady like her. And yet it made her even more beautiful.

"Good morning," she told me.

"Hi," I said as I shakily sat up. Dammit, I was still feeling weak. Just how long would it take me to recover?

"Wow, I hope you didn't see the dream I was having," I told Jean as I rubbed my eyes.

Jean shook her head. "I didn't, but don't read too much into any dreams you might have. Right now, they aren't strictly your own. Are you hungry?"

Holy cow, was that a good idea. "Yeah. Bacon and eggs sound good. There's that place just down the street..."

"Shower first," she told me firmly.

I frantically fought down the feelings that the word 'shower' coming from Jean Grey's mouth did to me. Have you ever tried not thinking about something? It really doesn't work.

A wild fantasy began playing through my mind. I was showering, but I had company.

Jean didn't say anything. She didn't even react. But there was a twinkle in her eye that was both embarrassing and comforting.

"You darn psychics," I growled at her. Then I sat up, made sure my bare feet were firmly planted on the floor, and carefully stood up.

Dammit, I was still shaky. I had to grab the headboard of the bed. And suddenly Jean was next to me, with an arm around my lower back.

I spent an awkward second trying to find a neutral place to put a hand on Jean's body. There is not now and never will be such a place. At first, I put my hand way too low on her hip. Then, embarrassed, I moved it up to her shoulder.

"So," I asked suddenly, "does Simone normally do women?"

"Strange question," Jean told me with a wry grin, "but no. She has a boyfriend who works as a janitor in the building across the street. He's a nice guy."

I sighed. "She asked me if I wanted company after she tucked me in last night. I don't want to, but I'm doing things to her head."

"It will sort out once you're better."

I shook my head. "She'll hate me!"

"Stop it," Jean told me firmly. "Simone's always thought a lot of you. And that bastard Essex taught her more than anyone should ever know about psychic dominance. She'll understand."

"It's still not right," I groused. Then another thought hit me. "Oh, dammit, I did the same thing to Janet! I never thought she chased skirts, but after she gave me a ride to your place, we were all over each other!"

And now the hand I'd had on Jean's shoulder wasn't there anymore. It was low on Jean's back. Really low on Jean's back. Still, that was better than the hand that Jean had put right on my ass.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I shifted my hand up. Jean figured out what was happening and moved her hand as well.

"It's okay," Jean said to me as she helped me towards the bathroom. "Thanks to that mind-controller, you're... exposed. Things you normally have under control are closer to the surface. That's not your fault."

Not my fault. Right. One word from Jean - hell, just a strongly suggestive glance - and we'd be on the floor, doing things to each other. Things that actually are illegal back in Mississippi.

Janet, Simone, and now Jean. Without even trying, I could make others give in to any stray desire that I felt.

"This is like that business with Stacey," Jean continued. "You'll get through it. I'll help you."

The door opened and Simone slipped inside the room. Then she paused - not sure what to do. Jean seemed to have everything under control.

Emma was standing in the door behind Simone. She had a cup of coffee in her hand. Steam was curling up from the cup and it smelled like heaven.

Dear God, even Emma looked worried. Was that actual concern in her eyes?

That snapped me out of it. Enough. Enough of this helpless maiden bullshit.

I stopped. Then I shook off Jean's arm. The slap I landed on her ass wasn't as strong as I would have liked, but it would just have to do.

"Simone, could you please get the shower started?" I asked quietly.

Simone actually curtsied. "Qui, mademoiselle," she said. Then she walked into the bathroom. After some rattling, there was the sound of running water.

I gave Emma and long and cool look. "So, Emma-dear, who do I have to blow for a cup of that coffee?"

Emma smiled at me. "That's not really required, but I'm willing if you are."

"A splash of cream and half a spoon of sugar," I told Emma dismissively.

Emma rolled her eyes and walked away.

Jean was rubbing her ass. "Ow," she said reproachfully, but she was trying to hide a smile. She puts up with so much of my bullshit.

Simone stuck her head out of the bathroom, "Mademoiselle, ze shower iz ready."

Mental note: teach Simone how to use 's' consistently. Verbal correction combined with some firm physical discipline would probably clear that up.

I blinked and shook my head. The image of Simone standing in a corner with her skirt up and panties down as I firmly chastised her with a belt grudgingly went away.

"Thank you, Simone," I told her carefully. Simone curtsied yet again and left.

Then I cocked my head at Jean. "Help me with my clothes," I told her.

Jean didn't even hesitate. She took my shift by the hem and lifted it over my head. Then she tossed the shift onto the bed.

"I think you should..." Jean began.

I took her lower face in my hand - sticking a thumb into her mouth.

Jean's eyes went wide in surprise, but she didn't resist.

Cocking my head at Jean, I looked deep into her green eyes. "I don't need fancy psychic powers to know what you're thinking right now," I told her.

Jean responded by doing something very exciting with her tongue.

So I was naked and penetrating Jean's mouth when Emma came back. She hesitated for a minute and then handed me the cup of coffee. Without intending to, I'd just used sex to wrong-foot Emma Frost. That's like out-singing Ella Fitzgerald.

"I trust this is up to milady's standards?" Emma asked me archly.

I took a sip of coffee. It was perfect, but I handed it back to Emma. "Too cold. Do it again and don't screw it up this time."

Emma stared at me for a long second. "Yes, ma'am," she finally said as she left the room.

There was a popping sound as I pulled my thumb out of Jean's mouth. Then I leaned over and gently kissed her.

"Not now," I told Jean, although every part of me wanted to take her right then and there.

Jean was frozen. She couldn't take her eyes off of me. Psychics are a powerful bunch, but Dom had taught me how you can overwhelm them with the right kind of mental stimulation. And Jean was particularly vulnerable to me because we were least half in love.

"Maybe someday," I told Jean quietly. "Maybe never. I'm sorry, but we'll just have to see how life works out."

Jean nodded her head slowly.

Simone walked in carrying a pair of big, fluffy, towels. She avoided looking at us as she vanished into the bathroom. I suppose a good servant doesn't notice certain things.

Emma was back. "I hope this is better," Emma told me very evenly as she handed me another cup of coffee.

I took a sip.

Simone reappeared and gave me an inquiring look - silently asking me if I needed anything else.

"I'm fine, Simone. Thank you for your help," I told her politely.

Then I looked at Jean. "Think warm thoughts for me." I told her softly. Jean gave me a grin that took her from a being a ten on a scale of one-to-ten and put her somewhere up around fourteen.

Then I handed my cup of coffee back to Emma. "Adequate," I told her.

Emma was able to restrain herself from throwing the cup at me. Jean was trying not to laugh.

"And after I shower, we're going to breakfast. Simone, you're coming with us."

---

Before we left the apartment, I made Simone put on real clothes - not her maid's outfit. She looked great in a long, flowing, and colorful dress.

At the diner, Simone and I ate like horses. Emma and Jean were more restrained until I told them to stop being ridiculous and just chow down.

Let it be known that when Emma Frost lets go, she can damn near eat her body-weight in bacon. I'd finally found something we had in common besides Jean.

My cup was empty. Simone automatically reached for the beaker of coffee on the edge of the table.

I gently put my hand on Simone's and forced it down onto the table. She started in surprise. Then I looked at Emma.

Emma poured coffee for all of us.

"Satisfied?" Emma asked when she was done. She was fighting my control. That was interesting.

"For now," I answered with a shrug.

Emma locked eyes with me. "You've changed. That mind-controller psyche that you've absorbed is stronger now. You're influencing - if not controlling - all of us. Sometimes subtly. Sometimes overtly."

I shook my head. "Damn, and here I thought it was just my fantastic looks and charming personality."

"You've always had a strong nature," Emma told me. "You normally keep it under control - which is a shame, by the way. But the part of you that's wielding your new power is uncaring and therefore less inhibited. And it has a predatory streak."

I grinned at her. "Wow, Emma. I've made you into my personal coffee bitch. What a monster I am."

"You're not a monster," Jean told me quietly. "But you've definitely become more primal. More demanding. That's dangerous. Fantasies of controlling others always go bad if you actually have the ability to make it happen."

Using my fork to toy with my eggs, I thought about what Emma and Jean were telling me.

"How do we fix this?" I asked.

Emma shrugged. "I'm not sure. It should just wear off. On the other hand, killing the mind-controller would probably also do the job."

She was right about that. If someone whose power I'd absorbed was killed, I usually lost the power immediately. That's happened in the past.

Jean glanced at Emma. Then back at me. "In the meantime, you'll need to learn how to control it."

I considered that.

Jean spoke up again. "Marie, powerful telepaths almost always have a phase like what you're experiencing right now. It's usually a problem when we're teenagers. But it's nowhere near as strong as what you're doing right now."

I shook my head, "I've never heard of anything like that."

Emma grinned at me nastily. "Marie, dear, it's something like this: 'Hello, world. You know how you think psychics are the most terrifying of the powered? Because you think we know or care about all of your dirty, filthy, secrets? Just thought we'd let you know that it could be worse. Far worse.'"

Letting out a sigh, I shook my head. "Okay. I see your point. So what do I do?"

"Use me to watch for warning signs," Emma immediately suggested.

Jean suddenly looked nervous. Simone was giving us all a puzzled look. Her English was getting steadily better, but most of this conversation was probably sailing way over her head. However, she could sense the tension around the table.

"You don't like me, Marie," Emma added with a sigh. "Among other things, you don't like my looks, my money, my status, and my relationship with Jean. You're also self-righteously sure that you're a good person and that I'm a bad one. If I'm around, and you start spinning out of control, you'll start with me. Watch for that."

Emma smiled at me again. That smug, satisfied, superior smile that's always pissed me off. Then she made a big mistake. Sometimes Emma just can't help herself.

"Here's your chance to see how you deal with a potentially really nasty power," she told me with her usual off-handed snootiness. "Do you think you can do better than I? I doubt it."

I stared at Emma.

"Emma, how expensive are the shoes you're wearing?" I asked.

That question seemed to surprise her. "Offhand, I don't know. But they were custom-made for me in Paris by a man who owed me a rather large debt. 'Expensive' doesn't really describe them. You can buy cheaper cars."

"See that trash-can over there?" I asked.

Emma nodded. Jean was shifting nervously in her seat.

"Throw your shoes away, Emma. Oh, and you're barefoot for the next week. I hope you have a tough pair of feet. The kind of feet poor kids get when they didn't own a pair of shoes until they're teenagers."

Without any hesitation, Emma stood up, gracefully pulled off her high-heels, and walked over to the trash-can. The shoes landed inside with a bang.

Jean gave me a look that was a warning and a plea. I took her hand in mine, extended one of her fingers, and then dabbled it in a splash of maple syrup that was on my plate. Then I put the tip of her finger in my mouth and licked the syrup away.

She didn't even vaguely resist me.

Simone put down her fork and looked at me. Then she reached under the table and adjusted her dress. Taking my other hand, she pulled it under the table and put it on the inside of her bare thigh. She wasn't wearing panties. Crinkly pubic hair brushed against the side of my hand. I saw no reason to turn down an invitation like that.

Simone closed her eyes and made a sound that was half-way between a moan and a whimper.

There was an elderly couple in the table next to ours. The man was looking at us in surprise. The woman was just plain shocked.

Still licking my finger, Jean closed her eyes and let out a long and happy sigh. Simone's hands were flat on the table, but her fingertip claws were out. They were digging into the wood of the tabletop. She was already on the edge of climaxing.

Emma, now barefoot, sat back down. She looked at what I was doing to Jean and Simone. I licked Jean's fingertip one more time and let her hand go.

Jean began blinking back to normal.

"This isn't you," Emma told me. "Try to remember that, Marie. You care for Jean, and would never hurt her. You've always treated Simone respectfully. You'd never use her like this."

The elderly couple was staring. The waitress was staring. The guy mopping the floor on the other end of the diner was staring.

"Please, Marie," Emma begged softly. "Please stop this."

Whatever it was that I was doing to Jean and Simone, I stopped. They both suddenly looked dazed.

"Good girl," I told Emma.

Then I looked at the waitress.

"Check please?" I asked. The waitress nodded jerkily.

---

Out on the sidewalk, I stared up at Emma's apartment building. Jean was standing next to me, her hand in mine. Simone and Emma were behind us. Emma was wincing and keeping a careful eye on the sidewalk for trash and broken glass. Her stupidly expensive shoes were still in the diner's trash.

I loved and hated what I was doing.

I really had to find that fucking mind-controller and kill him, but there was no hurry.

I decided that we'd head back to the apartment. Emma could scrub the floors while Simone supervised. I knew Emma had a riding crop or two - Simone could use one to make sure Emma didn't miss any spots.

Meanwhile, Jean and I would wait for nightfall together. All of my dreams about her were about to come true.

A while ago, something very strange happened that involved Dom, Emma, Jean, and me. We don't talk about it, and I guess we pretend it didn't happen. At the time, we had no control over we did, but holy cow was it fun.

This time, I planned on having lots of control. Complete control as a matter of fact. Jean was going to be all mine.

I looked at Jean. She smiled back at me.

"Read my mind," I told her.

She did that - and saw what I had planned for her. And then she was in my arms and our lips were pressed together. Her arms were around me and her body was damn near molded against mine. A few of the local guys let out long, appreciative, wolf-whistles.

Oh, the things I was going to do Jean...

The things I was going to do to her...

Things...

I suddenly shoved Jean away. She fell on her ass and gave me a surprised and hurt look.

What the hell was I doing?

I spun around and started running.

---

*Let's talk,* Jean 'said' to me telepathically.

The feeling of shame that came over me was so deep that it's hard to describe.

I was in the public library. I didn't dare go to the office. Sooraya would be there and God knew what would happen.

*Jean... please... please just go away,* I asked. Actually, I was begging.

*We're going to help you no matter what,* Jean told me. She sounded grimly determined.

Like I deserved help. I needed to steer clear of everyone until I settled this myself. And hopefully what was happening to me would go away once I found and killed the bastard who'd done this to me.

*I can't talk to you, Jean. I can't trust myself around you.*

*What about me?* Emma butted in.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was ready to talk to Emma.

*No underwear, Emma,* I told her. *No underwear until the first snow hits the ground.*

*Oh, damn it!* Emma fumed. I could sense that she was pulling off her clothes. I didn't know if she was somewhere private or public, but that really didn't matter.

*The plan to have Emma be a warning sign really isn't useful,* I told Jean dryly. *I always seem to be at least half-crazy. And that's kinda hard on Emma.*

*It seemed like a workable plan at the time,* Jean responded with a mental shrug. In the real world, she was helping Emma unhook her bra.

I laughed. *Anything you'd like from Emma? She lives to serve.*

*Go to hell, Marie!* Emma 'yelled'.

*Okay, Emma. Whenever you're home in your apartment, no clothes.*

*You blasted...* Emma began angrily.

*Shut up, Emma!* Jean snarled, trying to keep Emma out of even more trouble.

*Oh, and you'll bring breakfast in bed to both Jean and Simone for the next year,* I added with a laugh. *Since you'll be naked, that will be a pretty sight.*

There was a strained silence from Emma. Well, not a 'silence'. After all, we were using telepathy.

*Nothing to say, Emma?* I asked.

There was no response. That wasn't good enough.

*If you have anything on your mind, Emma, go ahead and tell me. But remember to be polite. And I want to hear the truth.*

*Yes, ma'am,* Emma replied helplessly. *I'm trying to fight what you're doing to me, but I can't seem to do anything about it. You're an insanely powerful dominator. You're rolling right over Jean and me, and we're supposed to be two of the most powerful psychics on Earth.*

*Marie, you have to stop this,* Jean told me softly.

*Go away,* I told Jean. *I need a few private words with Emma.*

There was a long silence. *Please don't hurt her, Marie. I'll do anything you want if you just don't hurt her.*

Sitting at a library table, I shook my head sadly. *Oh, Jean, don't you see by now that you'll do anything I want anyway? And all I really want from Emma is the truth. Of course, the truth hurts more than anything.*

*Look, Marie, just...* Jean tried again.

*Go away, Jean,* I repeated.

And then Jean was gone.

*Emma,* I cooed. I could feel a feral grin growing on my face. *There's just one more thing.*

*What the fuck do you want?* she snarled.

*Your deepest, darkest, secret, Emma. The thing nobody else knows.*

Nothing.

*I'm waiting, Emma.*

"I have a lot of secrets, you gutter trash!" Emma snarled.

"I'll punish you for that later," I said calmly, "but for right now, tell me a secret, Emma,"

*I lied to Jean about loving her,* Emma said slowly, as if the words were being dragged out of her. *I knew about that thing - the Phoenix - that's inside of her. I knew she had to be watched. So I seduced her. I told her that I loved her, but that really wasn't true. But after a few months with her... well, I couldn't help myself. I began caring for her. If she ever finds out, I'm scared she'll leave me.*

I shook my head. *Hell, Emma, I had that one figured out a long time ago. I'm sure Jean does too. You'll have to give me something better than that.*

*Why are you doing this to me?* Emma asked. Through our mind-like, she felt strangely empty. There was no point to tears or resistance. We both knew I was going to get what I wanted.

I fought down a surge of rage.

*Emma, I'm doing this because I fucking hate you! I hate how you want to take Dom from me - you really don't want her, it's just to hurt me! And then there's the way you're always judging me. You laugh at my clothes, at my accent, at my looks, at where I come from, at how I barely went to school. You think it's funny that Logan and I used to be together. You sneer at how I used to work as a stripper. You think everything I am, and everything I will be, is just a joke!*

Everything I felt for Emma was roaring out of me. People in the library were looking at me. An elderly librarian-lady was hurrying over to me. She suddenly slowed down, looking at me with concern, her hand over her mouth. I must have looked like I was having some sort of seizure.

*Damn you, Emma. Damn you to hell.* I managed to choke out.

Emma was silent for a time.

*I'm jealous of you,* she suddenly told me.

Huh? That... wasn't right.

*No,* I replied in confusion. *No. That doesn't make any sense.*

Emma let out a long telepathic sigh. *Damn it, Marie. I treat almost everyone badly. I can't help myself. It comes from not having the kind of control over my power that Jean and even Betsy have. I'm more powerful than they are, but I don't have their finesse, their ability to protect themselves. I'm constantly bombarded with everyone's crudest and most evil thoughts. That made me who I am. I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me, but damn it, you should at least understand!*

*But everything you just accused me of? No. I didn't do any of that to you. Well, actually I do make fun of your clothes, but I do that to every woman.*

*But why the hell are you jealous of me?* I responded slowly.

*Oh, for God's sake, Marie... if it didn't piss me off, it would be almost charming that you don't see it. Dom loves you. Jean is yours if you want her. Janet has met you only a few times and now she's thinking about you. Logan's still in love with you, but lies to himself about it every day and tries to forget you by plunging into those whores who work for him. But maybe Simone is the best example. She obeys me out of duty and obligation. She serves you out of friendship and respect.*

*Marie, I worked my entire life to make myself into a beautiful and commanding woman. Clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, psychology classes, acting and voice lessons... even cosmetic surgery. You put on a three dollar dress, cock your hip at a man, say something funny with that damned off-kilter smile, and suddenly everyone forgets that I'm even in the room. It's just so bloody effortless for you.*

*You wanted my deepest secret? Well, there it is, Marie. I really don't like myself, but I don't know how to change what I am.*

*I wish I were you.*

Emma's 'voice' was beginning to shake. *Is that enough, Marie?" she said defiantly, "Do you want anything else?*

I could dimly sense the other things Emma was talking about. Things were leaking out of Emma's mind and into mine. The boy who'd committed suicide. A crying woman, begging for help she wasn't going to get. The couple fleeing down a rain-swept street. Experiments that had gone too far. Things deeply regretted, but now impossible to fix.

And behind it all, the endless agony of Emma's son, born horribly deformed with a mutant 'gift'. The boy was long dead and gone, too weak to survive for more than just a few months after his birth.

It was too much. I frantically tried to push it all away. For a long moment, I rocked back and forth in painful silence.

After a while, I sort-of recovered.

*That's enough, Emma* I said to her. *I'm done with you.*

*Well I'm not done with you,* Emma shot back.

*What?* I replied dangerously.

*What you've done isn't all your fault. Hell, none of it is really your fault - that fucking mind-controller has become a part of you and he's making you into even more of an evil bitch than you normally are! Jean and I are going to help you, and you don't have a damned choice!*

Then she was gone. The rage I felt was like an out-of-control forest fire. The next time I saw Emma...

Then, somehow, I reached down deep inside and once again took control of myself.

Wow. Emma really was one tough bitch.

I'd be sure to tell Emma that while I had her flay off her skin.

---

I walked out of the library before they could throw me out. I really had nowhere to go, so I sat on the stairs.

An elderly and well-meaning woman who'd also been in the library sat down next to me. She told me that - no matter what - Jesus loved me. But at that moment, I had my doubts.

And then she asked if there was anyone I could call. Somewhere I could go for help.

Maybe family?

"I have a mother," I told her.

"Talk to her," she told me. Then she patted my shoulder, got to her feet, and walked away.

---

That was how I ended up at my mom's place.

Raven made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And she cut off the crusts. She nibbled on the crusts while I ate the rest of the sandwich. As long as I can remember, she's always made sandwiches for me that way.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she examined me through the yellow eyes of her true form. Whenever we're alone together, she stays in the blue-skinned shape that I'll always think of as "momma".

I decided to keep it simple.

"I was taken over by a mind-controller," I told her. "I absorbed both him and his powers, but now they're driving me crazy. I tell people what to do and they do it and that both feels great and is as addictive as heroin. Basically, I'm turning into the most dangerous bitch you can imagine. Oh... and just a little while ago I had a talk with a woman who I don't like. I hurt and humiliated her. Then I found out that the reasons I hate her were mostly just in my head."

Mom looked at me. Then she nodded. "Sounds like a busy day. A real mind-controller, huh? You can tell people to do just about anything and they'll do it?"

I nodded.

She pursed her lips. "Unless you count this town's psychics, I've never heard of anyone around here with that kind of power. And most psychics aren't as powerful as you say you've become."

I just gave Mom a helpless shrug.

Mom reached over the table and took my hands in hers. She squeezed them gently. Raven's not really good at being human and comforting, but it's great when she tries.

"So what was your day like?" I asked shakily. I suppose I was trying to be funny, but I forgot what I could now do.

Mom immediately gave me a brutally honest answer. "I helped murder someone this morning, but the dead guy was no loss to the world. After that, Yuriko and I went to that Shinto shrine where she always prays after we kill someone. Then we went back to the office. We reported to Logan and afterward he bent us over his desk and side-by-sided us. He's been pretty horny ever since we killed that Creed son of a bitch. Morale is high and it really helps the time pass."

Okay, it was obvious that my new power was having an effect on her. And, actually, I'd spent some time bending over that same desk. I'd also been on my knees underneath it. I wondered if Mom ever thought about that. I was so tempted to ask her, but I managed to stop myself.

When I finally dumped Dom and went back to Logan, would he expect both of us to do him at the same time? I mean, she wasn't _really_ my mother. Not in a blood sense...

Then I blinked hard. What the _hell_ was I thinking?! I hastily banished that entire line of thought.

After that, I made a face. "It's generally considered weird for a mom to tell her daughter about screwing a guy who the daughter's also screwed."

A smile flickered over mom's face. "We aren't allowed to be normal. God took that from us when we were born."

I couldn't really argue with that.

Then mom reached over, grabbed the kitchen phone, and dialed a number.

"Hey, Hank," she said into the phone, "I hear there's a mind-controller in town. You know anything about that?"

There was silence for a moment.

"No?" mom said. She didn't seem surprised. "Hey, could you get in touch with Xavier and ask him? This is important."

Hank replied.

"Thanks, Hank," mom said into the phone. Then she hung up.

"Xavier?" I asked. "You mean Charles Xavier? The professor guy?"

Mom picked up the last crust of bread and bit it in half. "He keeps an eye on people with powers," she said with her mouth half-full. "Sometimes he and Hank talk. They trade information. We know the city better than anyone, but Xavier has connections all over the world."

I knew Dr. Xavier. Talking to him made a lot of sense.

And I couldn't help but notice that the nice lady back at the library had actually given me some pretty decent advice.

---

I was still at mom's place. She was humming as she rattled around the kitchen, cooking dinner for us.

The sun was almost down when Dr. Xavier called us. Yeah, Dr. Xavier actually called me on a phone. I understand that he does things like that, instead of just mind-speaking. Maybe it's because he's older than the other psychics I know. Or maybe he just doesn't like to make a show of using his powers.

I told Dr. Xavier what little I knew, although I did edit out some details.

There was a long silence.

"That sounds like Zebediah Killgrave," he told me. "I have heard reports that he's back in the United States. He's one of the most powerful dominators known."

That name meant nothing to me. "What's he look like?"

There was another pause before Dr. Xavier replied. "He's medium tall, in his early middle-years, and slightly overweight. Some people consider him handsome, but descriptions are vague. But the most striking thing about him is that he's purple."

"Purple?" I repeated in surprise.

"Yes, my dear. He's completely purple. In fact, some call him the Purple Man."

"Why haven't I ever heard of him?"

Dr. Xavier sighed. "It's within his power to tell people to forget that they've met him. Or to kill themselves if he feels they are too inconvenient. He leaves behind him a trail of broken people... who often don't know why they are broken."

I suddenly felt very cold.

"What's he doing here?" I asked.

I could almost see Xavier shrug. "If I had to guess, I'd say he's simply enjoying himself. From what I've heard, he's not given to complex plans or goals."

"Does he have a weak spot?" I heard myself ask. My voice was crazy-calm.

"Luxury," Dr. Xavier said. "Fine dining, opulent surroundings, expensive clothes and cars, the best drugs, the most decadent parties. Ultimately, Killgrave is just a shallow hedonist."

I notice Dr. Xavier didn't include "beautiful women" in his list. He was trying to be careful.

I was suddenly trembling. Suppose there was a man who could totally control what you did, said, and even thought. When he came up to you and said, "Hey, you're pretty. Take off your clothes, get into bed, and spread your legs," you would do just that. Then afterward, he'd tell you to forget about it and go away.

How would you know what he'd done to you? Or how many times he'd used you like that? How could you stop him from doing it again?

Then it all suddenly clicked together.

I knew where I could find Killgrave.

---

I had dinner with mom. It was spaghetti with sausage and it was great.

And all the time I was with mom, she and I didn't argue or fight. When I was about to leave, she gave me a long hug, kissed me, and told me to be careful. She was completely loving and ordinary, just like I'd always wanted her to be.

I wished it was real.

"I love you, mom," I told her.

"Oh, honey, don't cry," she told me as she wiped my cheeks dry.

"I'm sorry," I told her. Then I walked away. When she got back to normal, I hoped she wouldn't hate me.

---

It was just almost ten in the evening when I took a deep breath and knocked on the door to Emma's apartment.

Jean beat Simone to the door. She took one look at me and hugged me so hard that my ribs creaked.

"Hey," I said, grateful for the goodwill. I had no idea what to say. And I'd half-expected a punch in the nose, or maybe something worse. I deserved it.

"Hello, Marie," Emma said. She was standing behind Jean.

Emma was naked and had her arms crossed over her breasts. Except for that little detail, she looked like the same impatient and irritable Emma that I've always known.

I actually felt a flush creep over my face. After all, I was the one who was in the wrong.

"I think I'm better now," I told Emma awkwardly.

"I think I'm naked now," Emma responded tightly.

I winced. Nobody likes to be reminded that they've been an ass. And I really didn't know how much 'better' I really was.

"You can put on clothes," I told her hurriedly. "And shoes. And you don't have to serve breakfast in bed to Jean and Simone."

Simone was in the living room. Her eyebrows went up as she tried to figure out what I'd just said. I suppose she was wondering if she'd heard it right.

"Wait, what was that about breakfast in bed?" Jean asked cautiously.

"I know what you're thinking and you can go to hell!" Emma yelled at Jean.

"Look, I'm just saying we shouldn't make any hasty decisions," Jean told me hopefully.

"We'll talk about this later," Emma gritted out. By then she was climbing into a pair of panties that Simone had just handed her. Meanwhile, Simone was strapping a bra onto Emma. It was a really graceful display of teamwork.

I snapped out of my embarrassment. "Emma, we have to talk..." I said to her. I could hear something like desperation in my voice. How the hell could Emma ever forgive me?

Emma stopped. Then she gave me a long look that was deadly.

Behind us, Jean stirred. She was wondering if she should intervene or let us sort things out on our own.

"I really can't say I'm sorry," I told Emma helplessly. "Because they're just aren't words that can tell you how sorry I am. I was wrong about you and I let that turn me mean. Hell, it turned me into a monster."

Emma looked at me, her face like the thing people always call her - an ice queen. I suspected that she was reading my mind. Jean doesn't like to do that. Emma does it whenever she wants.

Suddenly, I couldn't hide my desperation. "Please, Emma, I don't want to hurt anyone."

Emma suddenly relaxed. She looked tired. I could tell she wasn't sure what to say.

"You're buying me a replacement pair of those damn shoes," she eventually told me.

"Okay," I replied. I just hoped I had that much money.

"Wait," Simone said suddenly. Then she vanished into the back.

She came back with Emma's shoes. "Went back. Got them," she told us triumphantly.

"My bank account is grateful," I told Simone.

---

Carl Crane was the guy who I talked to on the phone just before everything went blank. While I was at the library, I looked him up in the phone book. I also checked the recent newspapers.

It turned out that Crane was recently and messily dead. He walked in front of the truck the same night I went blank.

There's a police detective named Tanner who's one of Emma's contacts in the department. Emma called him and he dropped everything to scurry over.

Tanner's got a blocky build, but it was as much fat as muscle. He's also blandly good looking. From what I'd heard of him, he'd be a good cop if he wasn't permanently on the take. Apparently he was looking for a payoff when he first met Emma. He was trying to blackmail her.

Let that sink in: he tried to blackmail Emma Frost. That's a special kind of stupid. Frankly, I'm amazed that Emma didn't settle him once and for all. But I guess she decided that he might be useful.

So now Tanner was Emma's dog. He fetched, spoke, sat, and begged on command. I didn't particularly feel sorry for him. And at the moment, as he stood in the middle of Emma's apartment, with his hat nervously twisting in his hands, he was definitely being useful.

"Last night multiple witnesses saw Crane walk onto the highway and right into oncoming traffic," Tanner told us. "A cement truck couldn't stop in time."

"What kind of background do you have on him?" I asked.

"Crane didn't have any kind of record," Tanner replied. "About eight years ago, he moved here from downstate and set up a photo studio. He did portraits, wedding pictures, party pictures - things like that. He ran into some financial problems a couple of years ago, and for a while, we wondered if that was why he offed himself. But he supposedly worked his way out of it and a few months ago paid off the last of his debts. We asked around and he didn't seem to be into anything crooked."

"Oh, and Crane's wife is missing," Tanner continued. "He filed a missing person's report last weekend and we have an APB out on her. It seems likely that the wife is an angle in Crane's suicide, but we're still checking."

We asked a few more questions, but there wasn't a lot else. Tanner had brought the missing person report on Crane's wife and the report on Crane's death. I started flipping through them.

Tanner left. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn that the air smelled better once he was gone.

Jean gave me a puzzled look. "What do you think?"

I pulled a photograph out of the missing person's report. It was a professional eight-by-ten glamour shot of Mrs. Crane. Presumably, Crane took it himself and gave it to the cops when he reported his wife missing.

Holding the picture in both hands, I stared at it. The feelings that welled up inside of me were difficult to describe.

I knew Mrs. Crane. In that vision, when I'd been in bed with a blonde woman and a man I somehow couldn't see, the woman had been Mrs. Crane.

After a moment, I showed it to Jean and Emma.

Jean raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Wow, she's beautiful."

I nodded. "It says in the report that she's done some modeling and studio work. She's also had some bit parts in movies."

"So she's an aspiring actress," Emma said as she idly looked at the photo.

Then Emma's face suddenly went hard. "I know her."

"Let me guess," I said. "You've seen her at the Hellfire Club?"

Emma gave me a surprised look and then nodded.

"What's going on?" Jean asked plaintively.

"I talked to Dr. Xavier," I said. Both Emma and Jean perked up at that. They have a lot of respect for the man.

"He says that the guy who wiped my memory is named Killgrave," I added.

Emma's eyes went wide. Jean gave Emma a questioning look.

"You've heard of him?" I asked Emma.

"Yes," Emma admitted uneasily. "Perhaps I should have thought of him before, but the last I heard, Killgrave was in Europe and he's been there for years. I haven't heard anything about him being in town - or even in the United States."

"I've never heard of him," Jean admitted.

"He likes to tell people to forget that they've met him," I told Jean. "He has the power to enforce that."

Emma nodded grimly. "And sometimes he takes a more permanent approach."

"Here's something else Dr. Xavier told me about Killgrave," I added. "He's a playboy and a leech. If Killgrave's in town, he's already surrounded himself with other people's money. And he's found the wildest party available and put himself right in the middle of it."

"The Hellfire Club," Emma said flatly.

I looked at Emma. "What does Mrs. Crane do at the Hellfire Club?"

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully. "She's one of the house girls - they're called concubines. During parties and events, a concubine is one of those women you see wandering around wearing nothing but a mask. I suppose that was how the Crane's paid their bills after they ran into financial difficulties. Actually, that's the story of more than a few women at the club."

"Marie... you ran into Killgrave there," Jean suddenly realized. She was looking at me.

I looked back at her. So did Emma. Actually, I'd already made the same connection, but I wanted to hear what Jean had to say.

"Crane hired you to look for his missing wife," Jean continued. "He mentioned the Hellfire Club and you decided to investigate that angle. And then you ran into this Killgrave creep."

I thought Jean was right, but I still shook my head. "That's the theory. And it's a good theory, but we don't know for sure."

"Let's try reading your memories again," Emma suggested. "We have more to work with this time. Now we know about Killgrave and Mrs. Crane. That might help."

I looked at Jean and she nodded her head in agreement.

Reluctantly, I agreed.

---

I was laying on the couch, with my hands comfortably folded over my stomach. My shoes were off and Simone was rubbing my feet. My head was in Jean's lap as she massaged my scalp - which was actually part of the process of making deep psychic contact with me. Emma was keeping her distance and I was grateful for that.

My eyes were peacefully closed. Actually, I was enjoying the experience.

"Just keep doing this for the rest of my life," I told everyone.

"Remember that I get them both back when you're done," Emma grumbled at me. That actually made me smile.

"Marie, this will be different from a normal psychic session," Jean told me. "We're trying to find some part of the memories that you've lost, but we have to be careful to not accidentally implant false memories. It would work best if you actually went to sleep, but you're probably too on-edge for that. So I'll enter your mind and we'll talk - just talk. It's okay if you ramble a bit."

"Sure," I said dreamily.

"Relax," she told me. Everything was becoming both hazier and sharper. Our surroundings were hazier. Jean and I were sharper.

"...sure..." I whispered.

---

Jean and I were sitting on an old, sun-worn dock. We had a pair of fishing poles.

We were just kids. Jean was an adorable pre-teen girl in a hand-me-down flour-bag dress that had more patches than original cloth. Her red-hair was in pigtails and her face was a swirl of freckles.

"Uhm... sorry," I told Jean.

She grinned and made an expert cast with her line. The hook landed in a part of the lake shadowed by a cypress tree.

"You know how to fish," I said in surprise.

"My dad taught me," Jean said with a shrug. She was keeping an eye on her bobber. Off hand, I'd say she was enjoying herself.

Smiling, I looked around me. I knew where I was. It was less than a mile from the little shack where mom and I had lived in Mississippi. It had been one of my favorite spots back during those long, hot, and perfect summers.

"Childhood memory?" she asked me.

I nodded. Then I looked at Jean. "Do you have any idea what's happening?"

She nodded her head. "This is because of the Crane case. You've gone through a lot. Retreating to a simpler and better time is something people instinctively do when they're in over their heads."

Huh. 'The Crane case'. It was odd to hear Jean - especially a little-kid version of her - use cop lingo. I suppose she's been hanging around with me and Dom too much.

"Something bad happened, didn't it?" I asked quietly.

Jean nodded, her face suddenly serious. "You saw something, or did something, or had something done to you, and your mind is trying to compensate for it. You're visiting a more innocent time."

My hands were suddenly shaking, so I put down my fishing pole. My bare feet were hanging over the edge of the dock, with my toes dangling in the water.

"I don't know if I want to remember," I suddenly told Jean.

Jean nodded her head and sighed. "We'll take it slow, but I don't think we can avoid it. Whatever was done to you was powerful, but crude in terms of technique. Whether you want it to or not, your memories will eventually come back. This way, we'll be ready when it happens."

I flicked the lake water with my toes and watched ripples radiate out through the still water.

I began to remember.

"Crane was frantic," I told Jean. "He didn't think the cops were taking his missing wife seriously. He was scared by the Hellfire Club connection. He thought the cops wouldn't really investigate. So he hired me."

Piece by piece, it was beginning to come back to me. Jean was right, I couldn't avoid this.

I fell silent, but Jean didn't push. It was like we were talking about the weather.

Suddenly, my mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "For a while, Crane's business was in trouble. Thanks to the Depression, there isn't as much money floating around for a luxury like professional photos. So Mrs. Crane found a way to bring in some extra cash. She wasn't at the Hellfire Club every night, but she showed up on Fridays or Saturdays. And she was really popular."

Then I took a moment to concentrate on what Mr. Crane had told me. "The Crane's fought about that a lot. Once the business was back on it's feet, Mr. Crane wanted his wife to stop, but Mrs. Crane... Well, it sounded as if she liked the independence the Hellfire Club gave her. And the Club gave her contacts that were useful for her movie career. She got roles - small ones - from the movie people she met at the club."

Jean winced.

"So a week ago, Mrs. Crane went to work at the Hellfire Club. She was just supposed to be there for the Saturday night event, and then be back in time for Sunday dinner with her husband. But she never came back."

Then I went silent.

Jean gave me a cautious prompt. "Did you talk to anyone at the Hellfire Club?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but I had to be careful about that. The Hellfire Club gets mean when anyone pokes into their business. I didn't want something bad to happen to Mr. Crane."

Then I sighed and shook my head. "Wow, I did a great job of taking care of my client, didn't I?"

"We don't know exactly what happened," Jean reminded me. "So who did you talk to?"

It was getting harder to think, but I rubbed my eyes and tried to concentrate. "When I first got to town, I stripped for a living, and I still have some connections in that world. A lot of dancers in this town - particularly the ones who're willing to do more than just dance - have crossed paths with the Hellfire Club. So I asked around about Mrs. Crane. And that's when things got strange."

"What kind of strange?" Jean asked.

"The girls I talked to seemed confused. They knew they worked at the Club on particular nights, but couldn't remember the details. Some of them seemed scared but didn't know why they were scared. A few of them knew Mrs. Crane - they called her Bessy - but nobody could remember the last time they saw her."

Jean looked disturbed. "That's really crude mind-manipulation by someone who either doesn't know what he's doing or doesn't care if he's doing damage. That will hurt your friends if it happens too often."

"Yeah..." I said distantly.

"What?"

"One dancer I talked to... she gave me a lead. She saw Bessy - Mrs. Crane - at the club last weekend, but she only remembered a few details. She and Bessy talked. The girl's a little in love with Bessy and I think that was why she kept some memories of her. She told me that Bessy didn't leave the club on Sunday. She was still there on Monday morning."

"That's when I decided that I needed to get inside the Hellfire mansion. It was possible that Bessy was still there."

Then I laughed bitterly.

Jean looked worried. "Marie, are you okay?"

I shook my head. "I snuck inside, pretending I was just another working girl showing up to work her shift. There's a dressing room near the back entrance. Women walk into that room fully dressed and walk out to the main part of the club wearing nothing much. Hats, masks, high heels, and maybe gloves. Nothing else allowed. I've seen so many women like that, but I never thought I would someday be one of them. I wore a veil to make sure nobody recognized me."

"Killgrave was in the big hall, checking out the new girls as they left the dressing room. He's just as purple as Dr. Xavier described. Even his clothes. Mrs. Crane - Bessy - was with him, draped on his arm. She looked so happy. She was all but glowing as she hung onto him."

"That purple bastard liked me," I added grimly. "He liked my looks."

"'Come here,' he said to me. 'Come here.'"

"I did precisely as he said. I stood there as he touched me all over. It didn't even occur to me stop him. Hell, I was grateful that he was interested."

The scene shifted. Suddenly, Jean and I weren't kids anymore. And we weren't on the dock.

We were in the Hellfire Club.

---

We were in some sort of fancy room. It was lined with dark wood paneling and filled with expensive furniture. There was a low fire in a fireplace, crystal decanters in a wide liquor cabinet, and the scent of cigars, opium, and high-grade reefer. A window was open and the drapes were drifting back-and-forth at the whim of a night breeze. The only light was from the fire and the room was dimly illuminated in soft orange.

Bessy, her blonde hair disheveled and her makeup smeared, was naked and sprawled across a table as she moaned in ecstasy. Killgrave was mounted on top of her.

Killgrave wasn't much to look at. He'd once been handsome, but too much high-living was getting to him. He had a paunch, his features were soft, there were lines around his eyes, and his face had the splotches of a man who drank way too much. I could see needle marks up and down one of his arms.

So the good news was that Killgrave was already killing himself. The only question was how much harm he would do before he kept his upcoming appointment in hell.

I was standing next to the desk, with a good view of what Killgrave was doing to Bessy.

Actually, I was waiting for my turn.

Yet I wasn't naked. In fact, I had on a very concealing outfit. I was wearing a full dress - long-sleeved and ankle-length. There was a high-collared jacket over that. And I also had on gloves, a decent-sized hat, and a tight-meshed facial veil. Even my shoes were like something a woman from the last century would have worn. Frankly, it was a heck of lot more clothes than I would normally wear.

That was a lie, of course. My mind was shying away from what was happening. Some part of me was modifying bits and pieces of my memory.

Jean was sitting by the near wall, with a miserable look on her face. She was trying not to look at Bessy and Killgrave. She was trying not to look at me. Jean's a funny girl. On one hand, she can read minds and that means she knows too much about the ugly truth of people. On the other hand, she's a properly raised lady and a really decent person. I'll never understand how she bridges that gap. After all, that damn near destroyed Emma.

I walked over to Jean, took her chin in one hand, and tipped her face up. Our eyes met and I could see the glitter of tears.

"You don't have to watch," I told her. "I'll be okay."

"I won't leave you," Jean said desperately. "And I can end this right now. I can break you out of this memory."

I shook my head. "Oh, sugar, I have to know. Please don't take that away from me."

Jean nodded and closed her eyes.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" I asked her as I cupped her face and ran my thumbs across her eyebrows.

Jean wiped her face, then smiled shakily. "Sort of. Remember the balcony?"

That time when Stacey did her sex-thing to Jean and I, we went out on the balcony of Emma's apartment. We were both naked as the day we were born, but we didn't care. We took turns shouting that we loved each other to the moon.

"I think Emma and Dom have decided to politely forget about that," Jean told me.

"Yep," I said to Jean. "They're quite the pair. We're lucky to have them."

Then the door opened.

It was Carl Crane, carrying a cheap-looking revolver. God knows how he got into the Hellfire Club. They normally have pretty good security.

Bessy Crane was still on the table, with Killgrave straining on top of her and her legs eagerly wrapped around his lower back. She looked up at her husband in complete disgust.

"Get out of here, Carl! You're ruining everything!" Bessy yelled at her husband.

Carl was frozen in disbelief. He couldn't figure out what to do.

Killgrave ground to a halt, but as near as I could tell he was still inside Bessy. Then he let out a snort of disbelief. "Let me guess. You're the fucking husband, right?"

Now under Killgrave's power - it took almost no time for that to happen - Carl nodded his head. "Yes, sir, I'm her husband."

"Hey, hubby, it's like this. Put the damned gun down and go stand in the corner. You can listen to what I'm doing to your pretty wife. And after I'm done with her, get out of here and go play in traffic."

Carl dropped the gun and went to the nearest corner. Then Killgrave went back to work on Bessy.

He glanced at me. "You're next, Stripe."

"Yes, sir," I heard myself say.

I sounded so eager.

---

I opened my eyes. I was back on Emma's couch. Jean and Simone were still with me. Emma was still keeping her distance.

"Crap," I whispered as I sat up.

Emma looked worried. For a moment, I wondered how much she knew, but then I shrugged that off.

"Are you..." Jean began slowly.

"I think Killgrave still has Bessy - I mean Mrs. Crane," I interrupted. "I'm pretty sure he hasn't had time to get bored with her yet."

Still looking at me, Jean hesitated and then nodded.

---

The morning sun was peeking over the horizon.

We were in Emma's Rolls-Royce, parked in front of the Hellfire Club mansion. An older man, thin and spare, was driving the Rolls. I swear, Emma never seems to have the same chauffeur twice in a row.

Simone tried to come with us. Before we left the apartment, Emma took her aside and they talked quietly. Simone didn't look happy, but she obeyed Emma and stayed home. Actually, that did make a lot of sense. Killgrave could just as easily turn Simone's raw strength against us.

In recent months, Emma and Jean have both taken to packing guns. The theory is that sometimes fancy powers have to give way to just putting someone down quick and hard. Dom approved.

So Jean, Emma, and I checked our sidearms while the chauffeur kept a carefully expressionless face. I put a bullet in the chamber that I usually kept empty under the revolver's hammer. Emma and Jean charged their fancy Stark-Mauser automatics. Then we tucked away our weapons.

"Franklin," Emma said to the chauffeur as he held the door for us. "Go back to the garage. I'll call if we need you."

The driver nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am." Once we were out of the car, he pulled the Rolls away and down the drive.

"If we have to make a fast getaway, there are cars parked in the back," Emma told us. "It's club policy to leave the keys in them."

Then she paused for a second. "I simply can't bear the thought of the Rolls getting damaged."

And that was pure Emma.

Jean offered me her hand. I took it. Then I grabbed Emma's hand. She looked surprised but went along.

My power used to be out of control. I'd touch somebody, absorb their memories, and knock them flat. If they had powers, I'd absorb them as well. If I wasn't careful, I could seriously hurt people. I damn near killed the first boy I ever kissed.

Logan may be an arrogant, free-roaming, philandering bastard, but once I became a part of his gang, he did his best to help me. He had some of his people train me until my control improved. Nowadays, I have a lot better mastery of my power. I can skip reading memories. I can share powers, but not take them. I can read minds, but not take powers. Best of all, I can touch people without doing them any harm. Dom and I made a point of practicing that last one over and over again.

I'd shared Jean's psychic powers before, but I figured having some of Emma with me would also be useful.

Actually, although Jean and Emma are both psychics, they had differences. From my point of view, it was almost as if they tasted different. In fact, Emma was dead right when she said she was more powerful, while Jean had better control. Mixing Jean's control and Emma's power seemed like it might be a good combination.

Then Jean, Emma, and I did something we'd discussed earlier. We wrapped a psychic shield around ourselves. It was much more powerful than Jean and Emma's usual psychic defenses, but it meant we wouldn't have much in the way of other psychic abilities. So that was why we had guns.

"Killgrave's too dangerous to toy with," Emma reminded us. "Just kill him on sight."

I nodded in agreement. After a moment of hesitation, so did Jean.

---

A pair of servants dressed like nineteenth-century valets met us at the door. They were surprised to see us, but let us into the mansion.

"Miss Frost!" the older of the two said after a flustered bow. "We didn't know you were coming! I'm afraid there are no functions occurring at the moment. However, breakfast is still being served."

"I'm not here for a meal, a party, or an orgy," Emma said with casual contempt. "Is there a guest here named Killgrave? He tends to stand out in the crowd, what with being purple and all."

The valet flinched. "Yes, ma'am, Mr. Killgrave is currently present."

Then he screwed up all of his courage. "I... I... hope I'm not speaking out of turn, but I strongly recommend that you not... that is... you shouldn't..."

Then Emma's eyes focused on the man and he ground to a disorganized halt.

"Why, Nigel," Emma said with an actual smile. "Are you trying to protect me?"

Nigel took a deep breath. Then he put away the 'cringing servant to upper-class idiots'-act and gave Emma a genuinely worried look.

"Ma'am, please be careful," he told Emma quietly. "He might decide he likes you. It would be best if you steer clear of him."

Emma crossed her arms in front of her body, her purse dangling from one of her forearms. "Tell me, Nigel. What would happen if Mr. Killgrave took a fancy to me?"

Nigel was tall and lanky. He had some gray in his hair and the look of a man who'd seen too much of how hard the world could be. I've never known how serving at the Hellfire Club worked for the male servants, but now my borrowed powers allowed me to dimly sense what had happened to Nigel. A boy's helpless desires had become a man's obsessions. He couldn't leave the Hellfire Club because he was in love with it.

The poor bastard. He knew damn well that the Club would kill him someday, but he couldn't help himself.

Nigel's eyes narrowed as he examined Emma. "If you're lucky, he'll just keep you as a sex-toy for a while, and then send you on your way once he's done with you. There are other options that are worse. Please, Miss Frost, I'm begging you and your friends. Stay away from him."

Whatever his flaws, I decided that Nigel was one of the good guys.

Emma unfolded her arms and put a gentle hand on Nigel's cheek. He flinched but didn't resist. I could sense the confused tangle of emotions that were radiating from him. Dread, lust, need, and the desire to surrender were all twisted together into a kind of knot. More than anyone else in the Hellfire Club, Emma gave the Club's servants what they wanted most, and they both loved her and feared her for that.

"How many members are here, Nigel?" Emma asked. "And how many servants?"

Nigel took a deep breath before answering. "Not counting you and Mr. Killgrave, there are three members in the mansion. Mr. Killgrave and the other members stayed here overnight and are still in their rooms. In terms of servants, we have the standard morning staff of ten valets, maids, and cooks. There are also six concubines present. They're with the various club members."

"Where's Killgrave?"

"The quest quarters of the east wing. The Marquis' room."

"Who's with Killgrave?"

"A concubine named Bessy Crane, ma'am. Mr. Killgrave seems very taken with her."

"Is there anyone else with him?"

"No, ma'am. Not at the moment."

Emma shifted her hand from Nigel's cheek to his shoulder. "Nigel, I want you to quickly and quietly get everyone out of the east wing. If it's a member and they get difficult, tell them that they're in danger and that the order to leave is directly from the White Queen."

Nigel bowed. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

Then Nigel turned and left us.

Emma looked at us. "We'll give Nigel a few minutes to do his job. Then we go after Killgrave."

Jean and I nodded.

---

Servants and confused club members drifted out of the east wing and into the great hall. The servants looked worried and the club members looked irritated. Everyone suddenly became as inoffensive as possible when they saw Emma.

The last ones out were a scowling fat man dressed in a big robe and a voluptuous black woman wrapped in nothing but a silk sheet. Nigel was behind them. He glanced at Emma and nodded.

"Stay here," Emma told Nigel. "Don't let anyone into the east wing. And if we don't come back, get the hell out of here and find another job."

That actually made Nigel smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Then we pulled out our weapons and entered the east wing.

---

I'd never been in the east wing. Compared to the rest of the club, it looked expensive, but not really unusual. Actually, it could have been a floor in one of those older and over-priced hotels in the fancier parts of downtown.

The Marquis' room was at the end of a long central corridor.

*Let me guess,* I mind-spoke to Emma. *The biggest room in the place?*

*A full suite. We use it for special guests,* Emma answered. Then she sent us images of the various rooms. In one of them, a young and fairly prominent U.S. Senator was in bed and smiling at Emma as she walked out of the bathroom. I suppose that accidentally leaked out.

Jean was looking at the door. *I'm getting nothing,* she said worriedly.

And she was right. Despite the fact we knew at least two people were supposed to be on the other side, I couldn't sense anything through the door. That wasn't good. It meant Killgrave had powers beyond just mind-control.

Emma frowned tightly, took a deep breath, and then tried the doorknob. The door opened. Just as Emma had already shown us, on the other side of the door was a living room with a fireplace and three other doors. At first glance, it looked normal in a rich kind of way. Then you noticed the disciplinary tools hanging from a rack on the far wall, and all of the attachment points scattered through the room. They were for securing someone with a submissive bent.

Through the open door that lead to the bedroom, we could hear a couple moaning. Apparently Killgrave and Bessy were celebrating the beginning of a new day.

We positioned ourselves on either side of the bedroom door. Emma and Jean on one side, me on the other.

When Emma takes over, she's a hard-charger. She went into the bedroom first and immediately stepped off to the side so the doorway was clear. I was next, and Jean followed close behind me.

Inside the room, our plan to shoot Killgrave ran into a problem.

There's a sexual-position where the woman's on top, straddling her man, with her back to him. Personally, I prefer positions where you can kiss, although Logan was damn good at making doggy-style work for both of us.

So Bessy Crane was rodeoing Killgrave as we entered the bedroom. The difference in their skin colors - Bessy's creamy white and Killgrave's light purple - were strangely fascinating. As Bessy mounted Killgrave, she was bent backward in an ecstatic arc, breasts thrust out and her hands tangled in her hair. Her eyes were screwed-shut and her mouth wide open in an oval of pleasure.

Damn, she was beautiful. And none of that was faked. When Killgrave told you that he was the greatest fuck ever, you believed him.

So Bessy was facing us, kneeling on the bed. Killgrave's head and torso were behind her. All I could see of Killgrave were his feet and legs.

Let me put it another way. We couldn't shoot Killgrave. Bessy was in the way.

After we appeared, Bessy ground to a halt, gasping for breath and looking at us with wide eyes.

"Marie?" she asked me in surprise.

"Hi, Bessie," I replied very evenly. "How about getting the hell out of the way?"

Killgrave's face appeared from behind Bessy's back. "Shit," Killgrave said to us in disgust. "You couldn't have waited another minute?"

Bessy or not, I almost took the shot right then and there. I could already feel Killgrave plucking at the mental shields that Emma, Jean, and I had around ourselves.

Then Killgrave's face brightened. "Stripe! Back for round two, huh? And you brought friends! Good girl!"

I didn't say anything. I just moved off to the side so I could get a clear shot at Killgrave. Emma did the same from the other side. Jean remained near the door. If we had three different angles on him, someone should eventually be able to kill the bastard.

"Okay, put the guns down," Killgrave told us almost conversationally. He seemed to have no real sense that he was in danger. "And then take your clothes off. The red-head gets in bed with Bess and me. You other two, go into the front room and start sixty-nining each other. Don't stop until I tell you to. I want your pumps primed for later on."

Jean lowered her gun but didn't drop it. Then she took a step forward as she slowly began unbuttoning her blouse with her free hand.

Emma stopped moving towards the bed and took a slow step back to the door. She was smiling at me.

They were both fighting what Killgrave was doing to them. He wasn't completely controlling them, but he was obviously having an effect. And even worse, I could feel our psychic shields cracking and straining under the pressure. Killgrave was insanely powerful - he was battering right through the defenses of three really strong psychics.

However, I was different from Jean and Emma. I had feelings for Killgrave that they didn't. That gave me an edge.

There was still time. I staggered towards Killgrave, my revolver pointed at him.

"No!" Bessy yelped. She scrambled around so she was face-to-face with Killgrave, then she covered his body with her own. Killgrave gave her an approving pat on the ass.

By then, Jean had her blouse open and had taken off her shoes. Emma was holding on to the door frame, her eyes closed in concentration, trying to keep herself in the bedroom.

I was shaking as Killgrave began to take me over. Honestly, a few hours curled up with Emma sounded good, although it would never be able to compare to what Erik would do for me.

Bessy was scared and staring at me. She still had her arms around Killgrave.

"Bessy, he killed your husband," I gasped out.

Bessy's eyes went wide.

"Remember how he told Carl to go play in traffic? Carl did. Right in the highway. And a cement truck hit him. He's gone, Bessy."

Something in Bessy's eyes suddenly died. Then I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her upper body away from Killgrave. She didn't fight me.

I put the muzzle of my Peacemaker against Killgrave's purple forehead. He didn't try to duck away. Killgrave just didn't think that way.

"Stop it," he ordered. He seemed confused. I suppose he wasn't used to people not doing as they were told.

His eyes met mine. I whispered something to him. Then I pulled the trigger.

---

Would it surprise you to know that the Hellfire Club has a system for getting rid of a body? Since I didn't particularly want to face a murder charge, I didn't complain as it swung into action.

Emma and Nigel stalked around the club, giving orders. I envied them for having something to do. I was alone with my thoughts, and in most of them I wasn't wearing any clothes and I was an eager assistant in the Killgrave and Bessy show.

Servants were moving purposefully about, trying to set things right. The club members were politely and discreetly escorted out of the mansion. Concubines, partially-dressed or not-at-all-dressed, were handed wads of cash, threatened in a convincingly blood-chilling way, and then more or less thrown out the back door. Through a window, I saw what happened to them next. Out under the morning sun, they finally had a chance to put on their clothes. Then they were pushed into cars and driven away.

Bessy, Jean, and I were sitting at a small table in the great hall. Jean was holding Bessy's hand in hers while talking gently, keeping a blank-eyed Bessy from becoming hysterical.

I wanted to go to Bessy. To sit next to her and run my fingers through her hair...

I took a deep, shuddering, breath and shook that thought away.

A young Asian maid, wearing a short leather outfit that left her breasts and legs bare, put a tumbler of whiskey and a cup of tea in front of each of us and then drifted off to the side. I ignored the tea, sipped the whiskey, and watched the hustle and bustle around us.

Two big valets hauled a blood-stained bundle of bed-clothes out of the east wing. A pair of bare purple feet were sticking out of one end of the bed-clothes. The other end was a bloody mess. A few other servants followed, cleaning up any blood and brains that had dripped onto the carpet. Out on the massive front porch, the two valets dropped the body. One of the valets spat on Killgrave. I guess Killgrave had worked his unique brand of charm on just about everyone.

A truck came up to the porch. The last I saw of Zebediah Killgrave was a flash of his hefty purple ass as what was left of him was tossed into the back of the truck.

"Goodbye, Erik," I said as I finished what was left of my whiskey in one swallow. The bare-breasted Asian girl appeared out of nowhere and refilled my glass. As she poured, the maid made a silent offer by brushing a silk-clad knee against my thigh.

She was being sexy. She was just doing her job. But, wow, was that not the right time.

Bessy was dozing. Killgrave was sitting in an easy chair, idly working on a snifter of stupidly expensive brandy. I was sitting in his lap. We were both naked. He had a hand between my legs, but he wasn't really doing anything. It was just a casual demonstration of his affection and control.

I teased his ear with my tongue. Then I whispered something that I didn't want to remember.

After that, he grinned.

"Beg for it," he ordered.

I started begging.

Erik never raped me. Not in the sense most people might think. I wanted it every time. I wanted him.

I begged for his touch.

I closed my eyes and tried to will that memory away.

---

If I had to make a guess, the maid was Chinese. And she pixyish and cute, with her hair cut very short. Her breasts were small, but the nipples were jaunty and cute. She was maybe a little skinny but had good legs. Oddly enough, her eyes were blue. My estimate of her age was depressingly low.

"Did you ever have to deal with that purple piece of shit that they just dragged out of here?" I asked.

By then, the maid was next to me. And she had a hand on my shoulder.

She nodded. "Yes, ma'am. He had me and another maid put on a show for him. He watched me and the other girl, while Bessy kept him happy with her mouth. Afterward, he told me and the other maid to go away, but Bessy stayed with him."

I sighed. "Don't feel bad. It was just about impossible to resist him."

The pixie frowned. "You know, I'm not really sure he used his power on me. He told me what to do and I did it. That's usually how this job works. I guess I got lucky - what he wanted wasn't really too odd. A lot of people... well, that purple creep had an imagination."

I grimaced. "What's your name?"

"I go by Joy when I'm here."

"Joy, that purple fuck gave me orders too. And I wanted to do them because that was just how things worked with him. It didn't feel like I was being forced to do anything. I just wanted to please him, and there was nothing more important in the world than keeping him happy."

Joy nodded. Her eyes seemed sad.

"I have a power," I continued. "I can absorb other people's powers. So I ended up being able to do what Killgrave could do. I got to tell people to do things, and they had to obey. I spent a lot of time being a complete bitch."

Joy seemed to think about that. "So you've seen both sides."

That time I was the one who nodded.

"And you kinda hate yourself for what you did to those other people?"

I nodded again.

Joy looked sympathetic. "When a valet screws up, they sometimes have us maids discipline him. The first time I did that, I went kinda nuts on the poor bastard. I suppose I was mad about a lot of things, but I went way too far. I couldn't look in the mirror for a long time after that."

Leaning over, she mimed nuzzling my ear - except it wasn't completely mimed.

"When ya do wrong, ya gotta try and make up for it," she whispered to me in a sudden Bronx accent, her warm breath on the side of my face. "But when someone does 'at to you, ya gotta be tougher than 'em. Ya go home, ya take a bath to wash their stink off, and ya forget about 'em. They wuz just something 'tween you and watcha want."

Then she straightened up and gave me an inviting smile.

"So what do I want, Joy?" I asked her.

"Offhand, pumpkin, I'd say you want peace of mind," she told me.

That made me smile tightly. "The sounds right."

"The rumor is that you're the one who pulled the trigger on Mr. Purple Tinydick. Is that true?"

"Yep."

She smiled grimly. "Guess what, honey, you got to do something that a lot of people wanted to do. So you delivered for everyone that Mr. Purple Lardass has ever hurt. Whatever else you've done, I'd say that makes up for a lot."

"Maybe."

"Definitely. Oh, and I'm guessing you're not going to haul me into a back room and roger the hell out of me?"

"Not in the mood, little sister. Sorry."

Joy snorted. "Fine, be that way," she said in mock-disgust. "I tucked my phone number into your collar. You ever need anything, just call. Mr. Purple Scaryname hurt a lot of my friends and I figure I owe you."

Her eyes were amused as they met mine. "Here's something else you should remember. You're a lady knight in shining armor. Not many women get a chance at that. And it's really rude to say 'no' to an innocent and blushing maiden when she offers to give you a proper reward."

Then she glanced around. "I gotta get back to work. Give me a pat on my ass when I turn around to go. It'll look funny if you don't."

Actually, I patted, stroked, squeezed, and pinched Joy's butt - she had a nice one. She gave me one hell of an impudent look as she walked away. Joy and Ororo ought to have an eyebrow-raising contest.

Once Joy was gone and I was sure nobody was watching, I pulled out the paper she'd tucked into my collar. Joy's real name and phone number were written on it.

I ask you, what kind of name is 'Jubilation'?

---

When we got back to Emma's apartment, Dom was there, grilling Simone for information in a mix of English and broken French. Dom was frantic with worry and I'll never forget the look of relief on her face when she saw me. We held each other for a long time.

I can speak a little backwoods bayou-French. So just before I left Emma's place, I tried to apologize to Simone.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," she told me. She was smiling faintly.

"I actually molested you," I reminded her.

"I was willing."

That was debatable.

"Jean said you have a boyfriend."

"Yes, his name is Arnold. If you met, I think you two would become friends. We should have dinner sometime."

I also tried to apologize to Emma one more time. She was pretty blunt with me.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" she growled at me. "I'm fine! So quit whining and go home!"

---

After Dom and I got back to our place, I called Janet and tried to explain.

"Ouch," I said with a wince as I put down the phone.

"How did it go?" Dom asked.

"Loudly."

"Sorry."

I shook my head. "Maybe I can sort it out with her later. Nothing actually happened between us. Well, almost nothing."

Dom nodded. She was really being crazy reasonable. Shouldn't she be angry? Suspicious? Jealous?

I'd already told Dom a lot about Killgrave, but not everything. Emma had probably told her more. Dom was being extra careful with me.

"I'm sorry," I suddenly told her.

Dom shook her head. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

She was wrong.

---

We were between cases, so Dom closed the office and gave Sooraya the week off. For some reason, Sooraya and her family drove all the way up to Niagara Falls. They sent us postcards every day.

Dom and I didn't go anywhere special. We spent our days lazing around the apartment, our evenings visiting restaurants and speakeasies. We even took in a few museums and gave opera and ballet a try.

Dom was being careful about sex, so after a few days, I took charge. I used every trick I knew, and everything I knew about her, to make Dom howl like a horny alleycat. And I did it to her over and over again.

When I was finally done with Dom, she lay gasping in bed next to me. There was a sheen of sweat on her body and a look of astonishment on her face. She was staring at the ceiling.

"Wow," she said to me. "That was... well... wow."

I kissed her. "I couldn't have my favorite girl getting all frustrated."

There was a flash of white teeth in the darkness. Then Dom dove underneath our blanket.

"Your turn," she announced. Then, with her usual ruthless and loving efficiency, Dom went to work on me.

I had to fake everything.

---

Later on, Dom was peacefully dozing. After carefully sliding out of bed, I stood over her. There was just enough city-light coming in through the window that I could make out her face. As crazy as it sounds, Dom is pretty sure she's some kind of ugly duckling. I think it goes back to when she was a kid and other kids would make fun of her light blue skin and that dark patch around her eye.

Bending over, I kissed Dom. She murmured my name and made a groping motion towards the empty space next to her. She frowned when she didn't find anything, but then slipped back into a deeper slumber.

I crept out of our bedroom and went into the bathroom. Standing naked in front of the mirror, I spent a long time staring at myself.

---

I was in bed, back in Killgrave's Hellfire Club suite. Killgrave had me pinned on my stomach and was using my hair to pull my head back. My mouth was on Bessy's body and Killgrave's hard cock was pressed up against my ass. He was rubbing against me as I ate Bessy's pussy.

"Oh, God," Bessy moaned, her hands still tangled in my hair. "Oh, God, yes. That was good, Marie."

I pulled back from Bessy and kissed her thighs.

"Damn, Stripe, you eat a good rug," Erik chuckled into my ear.

I was so proud that Erik had complimented me. It meant everything.

"What's the name of your girlfriend?" he asked.

"She goes by Domino," I told Erik. "Her real name is Neena Thurman."

"Tell you what," Erik said. "Tomorrow, call your friend and have her come over. I'll compare you."

"She's out of town, Erik," I told him - hoping beyond hope he wouldn't be too disappointed. "She won't be back for a couple of days."

"Oh, darn," he said. "Well... maybe later. Remind me about it when she's back."

"Yes, Erik. You'll love her, I promise!"

Then he finally got off of my back. After that, he delivered a stinging slap to my ass. I arched my back in appreciation.

"Now roll over," he ordered. "And open up those pretty legs."

"Oh, thank you, Erik! Thank you!" I told him.

---

Still looking in the mirror, I shook my head. That was how close I came to giving Dom to Erik Killgrave. And I'd been eager to do it.

I sat on the toilet and opened my legs. As I masturbated, I fantasized about Erik.

When I climaxed, I moaned out his name.

---

"You know Logan?" Erik said in surprise. "The guy who runs things in this town?"

"Yes, Erik," I told him. "I was his girlfriend."

He shook his head as he grinned. "Damn, if you aren't the gift that keeps on giving! And here I thought you were just a hot little backup number for Bessy."

Then his purple eyes met mine. He seemed to be considering options.

"Normally, I'd steer clear of someone like Logan. He has too many people with powers working for him. Things might get unpredictable if I tried to take him over, and I don't do 'unpredictable' when it comes to powered killers who are in charge of a pack of even more powered killers. But having someone right next to Logan could be handy. So when I'm done with you here, dump your girl and do whatever it takes to get back together with Logan."

"Yes, Erik."

"Say it."

"Ditch Dom. Get back with Logan," I replied instantly.

"Anything else?"

"You're the one I really love, Erik. I'll do anything for you."

"Good, girl," he told me with his cocky purple grin.

---

Dom was still asleep. The bedclothes had gone astray and she was only covered from the knees on down. I carefully pulled them up around her shoulders.

There was a cool breeze coming through our open bedroom window. I could hear the tired-sounding traffic from the street below.

I sat on the edge of the bed. Erik was still on my mind.

He never raped me. I'd wanted him every time. The sex was good, but being with Erik was the most important thing of all.

I hated him. And I loved him. And I still wanted him.

---

It was late when Erik drove me to Piedmont. He was going to drop me off, then I'd walk to campus and take the last bus home. Since I was supposed to work my way back into Logan's bed, Erik didn't want us to be seen together.

Sitting in the car, Erik decided to have me one more time. I straddled him and threw everything I had into making it as good as possible.

Erik was easily distracted. We took too much time.

"Oh, dammit," Erik said once we were done. He was looking at his expensive wristwatch.

"I missed the bus," I said with a frown as I glanced at his watch. I felt terrible. I was disappointing Erik and I didn't want that.

Erik shook his head as he got out of the car. "No big deal. Just wait in one of these houses until morning. Then go to school and take the bus."

"Yes, Erik."

He kicked open the door of an empty house and walked me inside. Before he let me go, he pushed me against a wall and kissed me.

"Forget me," he whispered in my ear. "But don't forget what I told you to do."

"Yes, Erik. I love you, Erik."

"Of course you do. Now get some sleep."

We kissed again. And something happened.

Maybe it was because I didn't want Erik to go. Maybe it was because he'd told me to forget him. But my power kicked in and then it washed over Erik. I took some of him into me. I shared him and his power.

Erik jerked away from me, his eyes unfocused. Then, cursing, he slapped me away and staggered off.

Like a robot, I obeyed my last order. I found a place to lie down and dozed off.

---

The next morning, Emma called and asked me to come to see her. That was a surprise.

I left a note for Dom - she was at the office making some phone calls - and I took a cab to Emma's apartment. Simone was professionally expressionless as she let me inside, but I could see something was bothering her.

Jean wasn't around, I figured she must be at school.

Emma didn't look good and that worried me.

"What's up?" I asked after I sat down.

She twirled a glass of whatever she was drinking in one hand. She was barefoot and curled up in an easy chair. She was still in a white silk nightgown, her hair wasn't perfect, and her mascara looked like it had been hastily fixed just before I showed up. I could tell that she'd been crying.

"Bessy Crane killed herself last night," Emma told me.

I'd only known Bessy for a little while, and that brief time had been beyond strange, but that still hit me hard. After all, we'd had more in common than most people could ever understand.

"Dammit," I whispered softly.

"We - Jean and I - we tried to help her," Emma said. I could hear the bottomless regret in her voice.

"I know you did," I told Emma, trying to be reassuring. "What happened?"

"She seemed to be getting better, but she got a bottle of barbiturates from somewhere. She took them all."

I couldn't think of anything to say.

Poor Bessy. So much had happened to her. I was going to talk to her eventually. After all, I was somebody who could understand...

Emma caught what I was feeling. "Don't you dare feel guilty," she told me. "You had every right to sort out your own life. And if Jean and I couldn't save her... well..."

I nodded.

"There might not be many people at Bessy's funeral," Emma continued sadly. "Most of her friends and family have the idea that she abandoned her husband for another man. They think that's why Carl killed himself."

"Idiots," I growled.

Emma shrugged. "They just don't know."

Then she looked at me. She looked at me hard.

"Emma, are you reading my mind?" I said dangerously. There were things in my head that I didn't want anyone to see. Things the Erik made me say and do. Things I did so eagerly for him.

I wanted people to think that I'd fought Erik and lost. I didn't want them to know that I'd thrown myself at him as soon as we met.

"Of course I'm reading your mind, Marie. I just lost one of Killgrave's victims. I won't lose another."

I shook my head. "Erik's dead and gone, Emma. I killed him and good riddance. That puts me one up on everyone else he ever hurt."

Emma put down her drink. "I heard what you said to Killgrave just before you killed him."

I looked away. Dammit. Of course, Emma knew.

"I don't know why I said that," I told Emma. I could hear my voice crack.

Emma didn't say anything. She knew I was lying.

---

I was in the bedroom back at the Hellfire Club. It was the fanciest guestroom in the mansion because only that was good enough for Erik.

Bessy was in bed with Killgrave. She was the most beautiful woman in the place because only that was good enough for Erik.

I had a hank of Bessy's hair in one hand, my revolver in the other. I pulled her away from Erik and pressed the muzzle of the revolver up against his forehead.

"Stop it," he ordered. He seemed confused. I suppose he wasn't used to people not doing what he told them to do.

His eyes met mine. Purple. Mesmerizing.

So perfect. So oddly beautiful.

"I love you," I whispered to Erik.

Then I pulled the trigger.

---

I was shaking. I was on the edge of panic.

Dammit, Emma _knew_.

"Please," I begged. "Please, Emma, don't tell Dom! Please!"

Emma instantly shook her head. "She doesn't need to know."

Then she hesitated before continuing. "Bessy didn't commit suicide because of what Killgrave did to her. And it wasn't because of her husband's death."

I nodded miserably. I knew exactly why Bessy had killed herself.

But I guess Emma had to say it out loud. "Bessy loved him. Killgrave made her love him."

"I didn't love him," I told Emma. Have you ever told anyone a lie so obvious that you really couldn't understand why you were bothering?

Emma didn't respond.

Then I got desperate. "Emma, can you get him out of my head? Can you make him go away forever?"

Emma considered that before answering. "I can't make him go away - that would be too dangerous. But I can make him fade into the background. People naturally smooth out bad memories and any good psychic can speed up that process. However, I'm not the best person for that. Jean could..."

I interrupted Emma. "Jean, can't know. Please, Emma, I don't want her to know!"

I suppose I wasn't clear about just what I didn't want Jean to know, but Emma seemed to understand.

---

I woke up. And for just a moment, I was in a dusty, abandoned, room. The morning sunlight was pouring in through a cracked window...

No. No. I was in Emma's place. And I was on her couch.

Emma was kneeling next to me. All she was wearing was a nightgown. She had one hand on my forehead and the other cupping my chin.

"What the hell?" I snarled.

Emma let me go and got to her feet.

"You asked for help," she told me. "You wanted to forget about Killgrave."

I shook my head as I sat up and put my feet on the floor. I only sort of remembered what Emma was talking about. What the hell was I thinking, giving Emma permission to rummage around in my head?

"Well, it didn't work," I growled. "I definitely still remember that bastard."

"What do you remember?" Emma asked.

I gave Emma a hard look. "He had a lot of fun with me. I thanked him for that with a bullet in the head. I should have shot him in the balls first."

"Anything else?" Emma asked. There was something strange about the way she said that - like it was a test or something.

I shrugged as I got to my feet. "What else would there be?"

Then I remembered Bessy.

"Oh, dammit," I said as I rubbed my forehead. "Poor Bessy..."

"Her funeral's tomorrow,," Emma said quietly. "I think we should go."

"Yeah," I replied.

---

Bessy and I were as naked as jaybirds. And we were standing next to the liquor cabinet, sharing a shot of Scotch.

"We're like sisters now," Bessy told me. She had a big smile on her face and, dear God, she was beautiful.

But Bessy was more than just beautiful. She was a really sweet kid.

"I hope sisters don't do the sort of things that we've been doing to each other," I told Bessy with a grin. She laughed out loud.

"Hey!" Killgrave called out petulantly. "Hey! You two! I got something better for you to do with your mouths than all this chatter! Get over here!"

Bessy and I put an arm around each other. We were giggling as we walked over to Erik, intent on pleasing the man we loved.

We were so happy.

---

Suddenly, there were tears in my eyes.

"That bastard," I said. My voice was choking. Then I broke down and started crying.

"That selfish bastard," I somehow managed to gasp out.

Emma broke every rule of being Emma and took me in her arms. I clutched her helplessly.

"He tore people apart," I whispered into Emma's ear. "He used them, broke them to pieces, and left the pieces just lying around. And he didn't even understand that he was doing something wrong."

Then I couldn't say anything else.

Emma said something comforting as she rocked me. She really isn't good at that sort of thing, but she did her best. I'll always remember that.

---

The funeral wasn't like the movies. Instead of rain and gloom, it was a bright and sunny day. Maybe it was a bit on the cold side.

Right next to Bessy Crane's final resting place was the fresh grave of her husband. Carved into his stone was Carl's name, the years of his birth and death, and the words 'Beloved Husband of Bessy'.

Bessy's tombstone was almost identical. I guess the same company had provided them both.

Despite Emma's worries, Bessy and Carl's family showed up. I was glad to see that.

Dom was with me, her hand in mine. Emma, Jean, and Simone were together. Simone was dressed in her Sunday best, rather than her maid's outfit. I guess the mistress-and-servant thing was on hold for at least a little while.

I noticed that Dom was looking at them, her head cocked curiously to one side. Dom can't help herself, she's always watching everything and everyone around her.

"Death levels everyone," Dom told me. I thought about that and then nodded my head in agreement.

After that, Dom returned her attention to the funeral service. I examined her profile. She was a fine woman and a good friend, but...

But I really hoped I could fall in love with her again.

The preacher did a fine job - he was obviously an old pro at seeing people off to whatever lies beyond. But towards the end, he said something about memory. And it was something that bothered me

He said that as long as someone lived in your heart and mind, they were never really gone.

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my body.