Mirror, Mirror

Mirror Mirror Chapter Twenty Four
Disclaimers Apply


A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE
™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *glomp * InterNutter,
TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for
archiving/hosting. ProPhile: Okay, marginally better so they're
being sent off tonight. Morgan: *echo echo echo * Readers/Reviewers:
Thank you bunches and lots for reading/reviewing as you can! There's
smut in the next chapter so be ye warned…

"For the love of whatever god you bow to, would you mind *not * doing that?"
"Sorry," Logan grinned, "habit." He tapped one long metal claw
against the railing of the stairs without pausing, a steady and strong
rhythm that was tuneless but seemed to be getting stuck in Mark's head
nonetheless. "This place is empty."
"Not entirely," Mark corrected. He smiled grimly, tapping a wood
paneled wall with one long finger. "It's a façade. There's hidden
passageways all over this place and likely we're being watched." He
paused, lips slightly parted, and skimmed his fingers along a seam in
the paneling. "Do you smell that?"
Logan raised a brow. "What do you think?" He nodded towards the
open door at the top of the stairs. "Stronger up there."
Mark nodded in reply. "We should leave. We've been here too long
already." He did not move to depart, though, instead following
Logan's careful tread up the steps. It had taken them less than an
hour since leaving the Morlocks to read this place and they had been
within it's walls for more than ten minutes. Mark's skin was crawling
with the need to leave, to make sure they were not detected. "Bad
business," he muttered so softly that the words were barely audible,
even to Logan. "We're tarrying."
Logan, claws fully extended and held before him in a ready posture,
merely grunted. The smell of fear and sweat the faintest tinge of
perfume seemed overwhelming to him. He knew Mark would only smell the
stronger aromas, the stink of human flesh kept in captivity mingled
with something cloying that he would not recognize as artificial
scent. He could not pick out individuals, just one boiling tangle of
smell. "Then go wait in the car," he replied, his low voice carrying
down the stairs.
Mark's brows snapped together at Logan's response but he did not
speak again. They reached the top of the stairs and were approaching
the open door slowly, the soft thud of their footfalls lost in the
thick carpet lining the hall. The paneling over metal walls was such
an obvious artifice that it made the hairs on the back of his neck
stand on end. It was not difficult, he thought, to see the lies that
this house was built from. Thin veneers over thick metal walls,
artfully concealed cameras and audio devices. You just had to know
how to look, he told himself sternly. He could not believe that Logan
had not noticed these things, but apparently all of the evidence of a
trap was nothing in comparison to whatever trail the other man had
found, leading them through the mansion.
Letting out a low whistle, Logan stepped into the room at the top of
the stairs. It was empty, the carpet ripped out sloppily and the
closet door hanging off the hinges. "Someone did a bit of
redecorating," he announced, not bothering to keep his voice soft
anymore. The torn up room was incongruous to the rest of the
seemingly well appointed mansion; the artifice had been stripped bare
to reveal the truth. Wires hung from torn wall paneling, a camera
hung from an eye stalk of wires and conduits. The floor was lined
with circuitry that seemed, to the both of them, to be some sort of
security device, something to keep the occupants in the room even
without lock and key.
Mark could smell the sweet scent more strongly here. Someone had
sprayed perfume recently, on a surface rather than on their skin or
clothing. It had not dissipated or been absorbed, he thought, moving
carefully into the room, his fingers curled around the hilt of his
sword. It was emanating from the closet, he decided, glancing at
Logan and nodding in the direction of the door dangling from it's
hinges. Logan nodded in return and moved to stand behind Mark, close
enough to help but not close enough to stifle. A faint light seemed
to rise from the back wall, just a few thin lines as if it were
glowing from between boards. He heard Logan make a soft choking
noise; the smell of the perfume was apparently growing too strong for
him, Mark thought. Stopping at the doorframe, he peered inside.
Darkness, save for the thin stripes of light which illuminated
nothing. A sudden flurry of movement sent Mark dancing backwards,
spinning out of the way as the darkness rushed forward. His sword met
nothing but Logan, apparently, caught the brunt of whatever it was.
The sound of metal and fabric rent the air and Logan shouted
wordlessly in surprise.
_*Good thing I'm already dead, * _ Jono complained, holding his hand
over his arm, a slice in the fabric revealing flesh that did not
bleed. _* That would've hurt like Hell. * _

"One more time for the people in the cheap seats," Mark sighed once
within the safe confines of the car, Jono in the back seat, his
bandages rewrapped to hide all traces of seeping light. "How the Hell
did you get here?"
_*I followed Essex. Rather, he let me follow him. It seems he
forgot all about me early today and… * _ he trailed off. _ * Is
Paige alright? * _
Logan glanced at Mark and sighed. "Paige is still missing. So is Forge. * _
Jono did not reply, folding back into the seat and seeming to
disappear in the shadows there.
Mark took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"Just to verify what you said earlier… There was a struggle, but you
don't know who Essex fought with. You saw him leave with someone
wrapped in a bundle , Sabretooth in tow?" Jono did not respond so
Mark pressed on. "You tore up the room, looking for a way out, not
knowing that the security measures had been disabled…"
Logan made a slicing motion with his hand, claws sheathed. "Just let
it go for now, Mark," he muttered, his keen eyes picking Jono out of
the darkness in the backseat. "We're cutting this one short and
heading back. Forge is going to have to wait a few more hours."