The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Chapter Nineteen (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch, Uberbeta and GODDESS OF MULTITASKING… *yawn * That was fun, lol! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are wondermous for archiving/hosting! ProPhile is a fantabulous smutmuse! Morgan: *GLOMP * Readers/Reviewers: Thanks for being so patient!!!!! *happy dance *

Remy decided that he did not like Logan’s coffee, no matter what he did to doctor it up. Including, he sighed regretfully, wasting the last of his rum in the black brew in the hopes of making it at least palatable. The cell phone sat on the table before him, almost accusing in it’s silence. He halfway wanted it to ring and halfway dreaded it, knowing that either way, he would be miserable. Jubilee’s question had not been calculated, he knew. It had been, if not spur of the moment, not meant to be asked so offhandedly. He turned the cooling mug in his hands and winced as he thought of the look on her face when he had hesitated, the second before her mask of calm slid into place. _Tu est un grand ane1, _ he though, taking another sip of the hated drink and wincing as it burned down his throat in a wash of bitter coffee, astringent alcohol and cream on the verge of going bad. “Merde, dis bad…” He got up and dumped the contents of the cup in the sink before heading to the fridge and rummagin tin the crisper to find the last can of his stash of beer, purloined from Forge’s stash which itself was part of the uber-stash Logan had hidden around campus. He stood very still for several moments, stretching to nearly a minute, scanning for sounds of life around him and finding none. As silently as he knew how, Remy took the cell phone from the table and let himself out of the kitchen via the mudroom, the door clicking shut behind him nearly as silently as his feet tread the hardwood floors.
The night was warm and almost humid, tinged with the river’s scent, drifting over the breeze from mere miles away, and the stars were hidden by murky clouds, the moon only the barest sliver of white between ripples in the coming rainstorm. Remy headed for the one place he knew he would not be disturbed, whether it was by Scott and Jean’s fight in the boathouse or any of the comings and goings, both clandestine and condoned, of the teenagers within the mansion. Kitty and Kurt had left just over two hours earlier and that had thrown the place into a tailspin, the younger students never having seen the Blackbird before and the older ones worried for their friends. Remy rounded the back of the house and followed the path worn into the grass by dozens of students and their countless trips to the gazebo, climbing the shallow wooden steps to sit on the dry wooden bench with the flaking white paint. He sighed and leaned back against the railing, wishing it would rain. If it rained, that would mean the trip to Boston would be delayed. If the trip were delayed, that would mean he could talk to Jubilee, maybe get her to see that he wasn’t rejecting her but rather just surprised by her declaration and question. If it rained, he thought, maybe Belle would decide she did not like mud and refuse to show up. He felt guilty about keeping so much from Jubilee, but the annulled marriage to the Assassins Guild’s golden girl had been hard enough for her to get over. He owed not just Belladonna but the guild itself a debt he could not even being to calculate for saving his life, his sanity and his future. And now, he sighed regretfully, Belle seemed as if she were about to call him on it. He wished he were a dishonest man, one who lied easily and frequently, one of those sorts who’s charm was not so romantic and who’s words were not so sweet, he wished to be different if only for a few minutes so that he could call Belle back and tell her he was sorry, but no, he could not help her. Remy rummaged in his pockets for the almost-empty pack of Malboros he kept there and finally found the half-squished package in his inside breast pocket. He tapped out a single cigarette and returned the pack to it’s wrinkled home, lighting up easily and casually, blowing a smoke ring into the gloaming night. It felt as if the universe were holding it’s breath, he thought, waiting for something, waiting for him, waiting for anyone to make a move, make a change… He took another long drag, burning the paper and tobacco almost all the way down to the filter in one breath, and blew the smoke out in a cloud that made everything seem blue-gray in it’s haze. “Damn dat gal,” he sighed, flicking the dead butt into the coffee can he had slid under the bench for just such an occasion. “She got me all tinkin’ in de circle…” Remy flipped the cell phone open to see if maybe he had missed a call, sighing when he saw that not one single soul had tried to contact him since the day before, and even then it was Storm asking him to pick of six boxes of Tampax while he was out, followed by a list of complicated instructions involving how to select absorbencies. He had saved the message for future reference. With another growl of discontent, he shoved himself to his feet and strode from the gazebo. No one, he muttered inwardly, made him question anything. No one, he swore blindly, made him wait on their whim to act. He would call Oncle Julien2 and get him to run Belle to ground and shake out of her what she wanted. He had a life, he swore inwardly, he did not intend on putting it on hold just because Belle had a bee in her bonnet about some mundane Guild business. He had flipped open the phone again and was trying to remember Julien’s direct number when the phone rang and he nearly threw it across the room in startlement.
“Cut back on the café au lait,” came the silvery voice on the other end of the line as he lifted the receiver to his ear.
“Where you at?” Remy felt his blood pressure spike instantly.
“We are here at these gates,” came the reply. “Open them.”
Remy snorted. “We?”
“You’ll see… just open the damned gates!”

1 You are a huge ass.
2 Oncle Julien is an Anne Rice character as far as I know. I don’t recall Remy having one.