Unchained Instinct ( Complete)

Chapter 17

Mystique stood across the street from the white house, decorated with green shudders and pretty flowers blooming in the beds just under the windows and along the walk. She watched the lights come on and a shadow cross against the light, signaling her quarry had finally come home. She wore the appearance of an average woman just waiting for the evening bus. Heading towards the door, Mystique glanced around and once certain no one was watching, she shifted into a dark haired young man, a replica of Kurt’s holographic image.

She had researched this woman...a therapist, found out her name and her address and her specialty in counseling. The thought gave Mystique a sense of foreboding, but she hit the doorbell with determination to find out everything she wanted to know. All she needed was a foot in the door and then Miss Cassandra Martin would tell all even if she had to...persuade the girl to do so.

“Kurt!” the girl exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I...needed to talk to you, Cassie.”

The girl opened the door wider and beckoned her visitor in. “Well, of course, but I would have come if you’d called.”

“I didn’t want Logan to know.”

“Is something wrong, Kurt? Has something happened?” Cassandra motioned for them to sit, but Mystique just smiled.

“Nothing yet has happened, Miss Martin.” Mystique began her morph and soon stood before the little therapist, towering over the girl in her true form. “But something will very soon.”

The therapist stumbled backwards away from Mystique. “You. What are you doing here? Why are you pretending to be Kurt?”

“Why to get in your door, of course. Don’t be so naive, child. I wish to speak to you about my son and thought you’d be reluctant to do so.”

“You’re damned right I’m reluctant! I have no intentions of talking to you about Kurt or anything else. Get out! Now! Get out of my house!”

With little effort, Mystique backhanded the girl across the cheek, sending her to the floor. “I will leave when I am ready, little girl. You have much to tell me about my son and Logan. You have much to tell me about my son being kidnapped and tortured. I want the whole story and you are going to tell it to me.”

Cassie’s hand pressed against her cheek and already Mystique saw swelling along the cheekbone and a bruise darkening. A look of frightened defiance crossed the girl’s face. “What I’ve been told has been told in confidence. If you want to know, ask Kurt...or Logan. Ask Charles. He already offered to tell you. But I can’t do that and I won’t.”

“Stupid little girl.” Mystique leaned over Cassie and put on her most menacing expression. “You will tell me. You’ll be begging me to listen before I’m through with you. And what I can’t get out of you, I’m sure I can get from your computer.”

Naive shock reflected on the girl’s face. “That’s confidential information. I have a dozen clients and their information is private, including Kurt’s. What kind of person are you that you’d be so uncaring of that kind of confidentiality?”

Mystique smiled. “A person used to getting what she wants.” She reared back and kicked Cassie in the thigh, then slammed the back of her hand across the girl’s mouth, blood flying from the wound.

Crying out, the therapist curled into a ball on the floor as if that would protect her from Mystique’s wrath.

Mystique reached down and grabbed the girl by the arm, jerking her up from the floor and flinging her into a chair with a hard twist. Eyes wild and full of pain, the therapist glanced around, gaging her chances for the door or telephone. Stalking to the entry, Mystique locked it with deliberate purpose then jerked the phone wire out of the wall.

“Now for some uninterrupted time together, Miss Martin. Tell me about my son and Logan. He told me he and Logan had been kidnapped and tortured by that miscreant Trask. But you’re a trauma counselor...specializing in sexual assault. What really happened? Why does my son need such counseling?”

The girl shook her head, tears sparkling in her eyes. Sniffing, Cassie reached up and wiped at her nose. “I can’t talk to you about this. You need to ask Kurt.”

With a snarl, Mystique struck again with a backhanded fist, the girl crumpling in the chair. Reaching down, Mystique took the girl by the arms and shook until Cassie went limp like a rag doll.

“Tell me what I want to know.” Grasping one of the girl’s arms, Mystique twisted, using her superior weight, strength and ability. She felt the bone crack beneath her cruel grip and smiled at her handiwork.

The therapist let out a breathless cry, gasping in agony. “Oh god!” the girl cried out. “A...man...they called...Sabertooth! Oh god, please stop! Sabertooth kidnapped...Kurt...for Trask....and he raped...him.”

Mystique released Cassie, letting her catch her breath.

“Sabertooth,” Mystique hissed. “Victor...you have much to answer for.”

“You know...this man, Sabertooth?” the therapist gasped, cradling her arm and Mystique was certain now she’d broken the poor little thing.

Mystique’s gaze flicked back to Cassie. “Yes, I know him. Tell me more, Miss Martin. Start from the beginning. Why did Kurt and Logan become lovers?”

Tears finally fell, the girl suddenly sobbing. She shook her head again, refusing Mystique’s order.

“You are a stupid woman. I don’t have time to drag this out of you though I’d enjoy the process very much.” She reached down again and grabbed Cassie by the hair, dragging her over to the small office area where a laptop sat closed on a desk. With a shove, Mystique flung Cassie into a wall and watched her slide down into a heap. “Sit still and don’t interrupt me.”

“Please don’t do this,” Cassie begged. “Please, talk to Kurt...talk to Charles.”

Mystique whirled on the girl. “I don’t want to hear it from them. I want the truth, not their pastel colored version of what happened.”

“This is wrong, Mystique. You know it’s wrong.”

“I know nothing of the sort. Now, tell me the pass word or I’ll break your other arm.”

Tears again, the girl was full of tears.

“Stop your blubbering and tell me before I lose my temper.”

Cassie stared up at her perhaps gaging whether Mystique would actually do that. Then a defeated expression crossed the girls face, more tears streaming down. “Shalott.”

Mystique turned her attention to Cassie’s computer, opening it and booting it up. Her fingers flew over the keys, searching for the file she wanted. Soon found, Mystique smiled her satisfaction and began to read the therapist’s notes from day one of Kurt’s sessions.

Her smile slid away as she read, hearing inside her head Kurt’s voice, feeling his anguish and his pain. How her son had suffered...not once but twice the tortures thought up by that Bolivar Trask.

And they call us monsters.

She read on, noting Miss Martin’s own trepidation towards Kurt’s and Logan’s relationship, her own doubts about the longevity of the affair between them. And what was this?

Mystique read further, realizing what the words meant. Shoving the computer back away from her, Mystique rose and towered over the girl who cringed and coward against the wall. Reaching down, Mystique took the therapist by the front of her silk shirt and drew her to her feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me Logan raped my son?”

“He...he couldn’t help himself, Mystique. Please. You must understand. Logan was drugged. He had no way of defending himself against the drug.”

“And my son had no way of defending himself against Logan!” She shoved Cassie from her, slamming her into the wall again. “Logan took my son. He raped him!”

“Please! You must understand!” Cassie cried. “Logan loves Kurt and Kurt loves Logan. What happened is behind them. They’ve learned to deal with it. They’ve come such a long way. Don’t ruin it for them now.”

“And what about Sabertooth? What was his purpose in all this?”

The girl wiped at her face with her good hand, wiping tears from her eyes and nose. “Trask wanted Logan and Sabertooth, as I understand it, hates Logan as well. They used Kurt to get Logan to come to them. It’s not Logan’s fault. Please. You can’t blame him for what these men did to Kurt...and to Logan himself. They are to blame and they’re both in prison now, paying for their crimes. Leave it alone, Mystique.”

“Leave it alone?” Mystique said in her most menacing tone. “I’m just getting started, little girl.”

She sat again and drew the computer closer, reading now, every word of the file, putting together the picture of the warped relationship that had developed from torture and rape. Her son had suffered first at Trask’s hands then Logan’s. Then Sabertooth had to involve himself due to his hatred of Logan and probably a fair sized paycheck and Trask again who she hoped would rot in hell before all this was done and over with.

Finally, Mystique finished all Cassie’s file notes on Kurt’s case, sitting and staring at the flickering screen of words.

“My son,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“You can see, can’t you?” the therapist said, her tone imploring. “Logan isn’t at fault. He and Kurt love each other very much.”

Mystique turned her gaze on Cassie. “You have your doubts about Logan.”

“Not anymore. He’s a good man, fighting his own unknown past and his own demons...just as we all do.”

“I know Logan better than he knows himself,” Mystique replied. “He’s an animal. He’s a killer. Perhaps it was all done in the name of justice and with the government’s approval, but he’s killed and Kurt knows none of this.”

“And neither does Logan. He’s a different man now,” Cassie said. “He loves Kurt so very much. Please don’t hurt them. Kurt deserves some peace in his life. He’s been through hell and he deserves to be happy.”

“He deserves better than Logan.”

“That’s Kurt’s choice.”

Mystique stared at the therapist, watching the girl cringe against the wall in pain and fear. Now for the next step. She couldn’t allow Cassie to talk to Charles or Kurt or Logan. She couldn’t allow Cassie free reign to ruin her plans or warn the others of her actions.

Shoving up from the chair, Mystique stood over the girl then reached down and dragged her to her feet.

“I really have nothing against you, Miss Martin. You’ve tried to help my son and it seems perhaps you have in some small way, but I know your kind. I can’t allow you to interfere with my plans.”

A look of terror crossed the girl’s face and Mystique struck hard and swift, hitting Cassie in the temple. The therapist collapsed, unconscious and Mystique caught her, slinging her over her shoulder with little effort.

Heading for the garage door, Mystique said, “I have a nice “safe” place for you, Miss Martin. Someplace where fate can decide whether you live or die.”