Hell Hath No Fury

Hell Hath No Fury Chapter Eleven
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather is a wondermous beta! *GLOMP* And sorry it’s taken so long to get back to this… *blush*


“I have no idea what he meant,” Hellboy sighed gruffly, tossing the empty bottle into the distant trashcan. “Kid’s a bit cuckoo for Cocopuffs, if you know what I mean.”
Kitty frowned. “He’s not crazy! He just thinks he’s a demon!” She flopped back on the sofa next to Logan. “You don’t think he’s crazy, do you?” She toed his ankle with her sneaker-clad foot. “Logan?”
“Would ya lookit that?” he mused under his breath. “Another Red Wings game is on…” He turned up the volume of the television and shifted as if he were not aware of her presence.
“Damn it!” Kitty stood and fisted her hands on her hips, glaring at both of them. “Fine, be babies! I’ll help him myself!”
There was a long moment of silence as she stomped from the room, her footsteps disappearing upstairs. Logan turned down the volume and frowned. “Half Pint’s got a temper and half…”
Hellboy shrugged. “She’ll burn it off. He ain’t gonna be any more forthcoming with her than he was with me.” He rolled an unlit cigar back and forth between his red palms. “Pre-embargo,” he said casually. “Almost out…Father gave me a box once, as a gift and a test, I think.” He held up the cigar and stared at it a long moment, a very faint smile playing across his lips. “He wouldn’t have given ‘em to me, though, if he didn’t think I was going to smoke ‘em.”
Logan raised a brow. “Father not like you to smoke I take it?” His last cigar was a weight against his chest inside his jacket’s interior pocket. He considered lighting up right there in the house but the idea of Professor Xavier’s disapproving look was enough to make him cringe like a kid caught doing something wrong.
“Father didn’t like me to smoke,” Hellboy agreed. He tucked the cigar back inside his shirt pocket and sighed. “Father didn’t like a lot of things but he never hated me for it. He…” Hellboy paused and glanced at Logan. “He was a very good man.”
Logan nodded, not looking away from the game on television but aware of Hellboy’s gaze. He felt as if he were being measured for his reaction to the subtle hint that Father, whoever he was, was dead. “Sounds like it.”
Hellboy stared a moment longer, then shrugged, standing with a jaw cracking yawn. “I’m gonna go see about Kurt and try to figure out what he meant. Kitty’s bound to be done by now.”
Logan sighed and stood, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “You…uh…you’re really…” he cleared his throat and shook his head. “Damn. You’re a demon, right? What’s Hell like?”
The massive red man looked momentarily thoughtful but mostly mischievous. “Sorta like Buffalo in January… without all the charm.”
Logan snorted. “That bad, huh?” He finished his beer and tossed the bottle at the trashcan across the room, wincing when he missed.
“You can’t even begin to know,” Hellboy muttered. Upstairs, a door slammed and a female voice shouted at someone to turn down the damned music. “Sounds like all’s well abovestairs…”


Kitty sighed and tried to tug the pillow off of Kurt’s head. “She turned it down, hear? No more rap music.” She tugged once more and the pillow slipped from over Kurt’s face and into her hands. Tossing it aside, she leaned closer, trying to get through his rigor. “Kurt, look, it’s just me! Kitty!” He was murmuring something rapid and rhythmic under his breath, growing louder with each cycle. Her German was terrible, to say the least, but she recognized a random word or two and the cadence. Kurt, she realized, was praying. She sighed again and leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. “I just want to help, Kurt. I want to help you feel better, I want to help you find your answers…”
His litany ceased and he opened his eyes a slit, the golden yellow bright in an indigo face. “You cannot help me. You helped keep me from my answers… I was led to that place for a reason and now,” he paused and closed his eyes. “Now I must wait.”
“Wait for what?” she asked softly, reaching to push an errant strand of hair from his eyes, yelping and jerking away as his bared his teeth and snarled at her in what seemed to be an involuntary reaction.
He looked ashamed as he pressed into the bed, unconsciously trying to get away from her. “Wait for him. He’s the guide. He’s the gatekeeper. Angel of Death waits for no one, Angel of Death calls to me, Angel of Death shows me the way…” He descended into his native German, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his words becoming a bare puff of breath.
Kitty felt as if a hand made of ice had clutched at her stomach, spreading prickles of fear through her chest and abdomen. “Kurt?” she asked softly. “Kurt?” He did not respond, his breath ragged and lips moving in his chant of pain. She stood, almost tripping over her own feet in her nervous rush. _He was right… we can’t help him… No one can… _