I See Myself in Your Eyes

Rahne awoke first from the haze of sedative, thanks to her heightened metabolism and the vestige of an enhanced healing factor in her blood. She cried out, startled when she saw her surroundings. This definitely wasn’t her room that she shared with Dani; the furnishings were once elegant, possibly, but they appeared shabby and neglected. There was an obscene painting of a couple engaging in carnal acts painted in shocking hues. The window was draped in garish red curtains that Rahne assumed could be seen from the docks. The lacy coverlet on the bed was dusty and torn, and there was a threadbare Persian rug on the floor. The gilt edging around the dresser was chipped here and there, and one drawer was missing a handle.

*Dani?*

She shifted to her transitional form and called out to her.

*We’re here.* She wanted to weep with relief at the sound of her voice in her head. *Where are you?*

*Here. In town. In an ugly room.*

*But where?* Dani’s voice in her mind sounded impatient and frustrated.

“Give me a moment, lass,” Rahne muttered aloud. They hadn’t gagged her; Rahne had been unconscious the longest, waking only long enough for them to dose her with the soaked rag. She struggled over to the window, still groggy. Her hands were bound behind her, making it difficult to maneuver, but she knelt by the window and craned her face through the divide in the curtains.

*I’m by the dock. Graymalkin Street.*

*Is there anything else? What does the building look like from the outside?*

*I can’t tell! I never saw the outside. But there’s red curtains. It’s ugly in here.*

*Look out onto the street. What can you tell us about the street?

*There’s a sign with a wolf’s head painted on it,* Rahne remarked. *I can’t read it from here. It looks like a shop.*

*It could be. That helps.*

*Hurry! Dani, I’m afraid! I miss you, I’m so afraid…*

Rahne ended her communication with Dani when she heard a low thump on the door, then a key being slid into the lock. In a twinkling, she shifted back to her human form, embarrassed that they would see that she’d been crying.

Two women entered the room, grinning at her maliciously. “What’ve we here? A redhead. Nothin’ but trouble, those redheads.”

“They fetch a big price, ninny.”

“Don’t ninny me, Regan. Find something to put on her. And let’s bathe this wretch, I can smell her from here.” They dragged Rahne to the bed and forced her to sit down. “Looks like a boy.”

“A very pretty boy. Look at those green eyes.”

“Leave me alone,” Rahne whimpered, shying away from their touch and their strongly perfumed aroma. Cloying smells aggravated her sensitive nose, and theirs were making her sick.

They were heavily painted and provocatively dressed. Both wore gaudy satin corsets edged in black lace that pushed up their creamy breasts into high, round mounds. The taller one had sandy brown hair bound up in a pompadour and a cheap string of pearls around her neck. A false beauty mark was drawn over her lip with black kohl. She smirked, marring her looks, and Rahne felt her stomach twist. These weren’t kind or gentle women, and she was at their mercy.

“Nay. We won’t leave you alone any more than the customers. Get used to not gettin’ your own way, little miss, and to lettin’ them have THEIR way.”

“No!” Rahne cried. Her eyes widened as they brought in a tub and began filling it with steaming buckets of water.

“Get her out of those rags, Adrienne.” She fought them as they tugged her out of her simple brown dress and petticoat and dragged her into the tub once they untied her wrists. They slapped her for her insolence. Callously they scrubbed her skin with harsh lye soap, including her short hair. She screamed when some dribbled into her eyes and earned another slap for her troubles.

Rahne couldn’t tolerate their treatment of her any further, and with a thought, she changed to her transitional form, striking their hands with her clawed fingers. Rahne bared her teeth and hissed, and both women reared back, eyes blazing with anger and fear.

“What is this thing?” Regan cried.

“A nasty demon, you idiot!” Adrienne informed her. She watched the other woman cower by the door, but she reached for the poker.

*Rahne? I can feel you again.*

“Nay, Dani, not now,” Rahne growled aloud.

“You’re right, beast. Not now! You won’t get away from what we have planned for you now.” She swung the poker over her head and struck her, and Rahne collapsed once again, shifting back to a fragile, naked girl once more.

“Easier to get her dressed this way, anyway,” Adrienne muttered as Regan tutted in concern. Both women rummaged in the armoire for an outfit suitable to present the girl and her wares.

*


Victor made his way through the pubs and shops, looking for signs of Remy. It grew difficult to track Cerebra, as she continued to wink in and out in an effort to keep herself out of sight. He rode all morning long, a large, intimidating presence on a black horse. The locals avoided him, since a brief glimpse at the face beneath the hood told him he meant business and wouldn’t brook delays.

*

“There’s the alehouse,” Betsy announced. She ignored the looks of admiration from onlookers as she led the children through the crowd.

“How do we know if he’s inside?” Warren demanded. “Do we just knock on the door?”

“No. We take the more direct approach,” Henry said grimly. He marched into the alley beside the alehouse and headed for the service entrance. Two men smoking pipes and telling bawdy stories looked up when they saw a man built like an ape, wearing a concealing cloak and heavy gloves ambling up to them.

“What’s this? If ya want a drink, you’ll have to go in through the front door and pay for a pint like everyone else!”

“I don’t want a pint,” Henry told them, peering up at them from beneath his hood. The man’s smile evaporated.

“Shit!” Before he could react, Henry’s gloved hand shot out and collared his throat, banging him back against the door.

“I want to know what you’ve done with a young man with red eyes, and a carrot-topped little girl.

“Y-you’re not human!”

“You’re not humane,” Henry corrected him. “I hate it when men like you make me soil my hands, friend, but there’s no help for it.” He sighed as he jerked him out of the doorway and flung him across the alley into the adjacent building’s wall like so much garbage. “Warren, do the honors,” Henry told his protégée. Warren smiled gracefully and reached for the other man’s wrist.

“What? Let go!”

“Let’s go for a ride,” Warren suggested instead, and he flung away his cloak, revealing his wings. They unfurled with a broad, sharp snap to their full glory, white feathers gleaming in the morning light. With one mighty flap, he launched himself into the air, carrying the man by the wrist. It was a strain, since he wasn’t accustomed to carrying a passenger, but he chortled at the man’s curses and high-pitched weeping. His flight was choppy and uneven as they soared several meters above the ground, more reminiscent of Sam’s aerial prowess, and he knew the taller, skinnier blond would tease him about it if he was watching, but Warren did as Henry bade him. The ruffian dangling from his hand looked florid and nauseous.

“Where’s Rahne?” Warren demanded. “We know you took her. Where is she?”

“I don’t know nothin’ about a lil’ girl!”

“Yes, you do!” Warren snapped. He dropped him, then dove down as the man wheeled in the air. He caught him by the heel this time, mid-plummet, and this time Shaw’s man made a low gurgling sound. “She’s just a little girl, and I consider her my sister.”

“We…we don’t have…her…” The man gulped back his gorge and his heart pounded in his chest, threatening to stop altogether if the bird-boy didn’t put him down. The townsfolk pointed and stared at the spectacle as fear bloomed in their hearts. Was this an angel in their midst, or a demon?

Henry barged into the alehouse, with Betsy and Ororo hot on his heels. Ororo shivered, uncomfortable in the cramped, darkened surroundings. She gathered her cloak more closely around her body and felt Betsy’s psychic presence in her mind.

*It’s all right,* she soothed, taking Ororo’s hand.

*No. It’s not. I hate this place.*

*I know.* Betsy squeezed her hand. *You’re being very brave.*

Ororo was winded from their journey, but she’d been exhilarated by it, too, with the cold wind blowing through her hair and making her clothing ripple around her body. She was immune to the frigid conditions, and thankfully Henry was gifted with his generous coat of fur to protect him from the elements. Betsy wasn’t so lucky, and she was still chilled to the bone and shivering. But she ignored her numb fingers and the way her nose itched as her face began to warm itself.

“She’s not here,” Betsy told them.

“What the hell are you tramps doing inside my house?” a voice behind them boomed. Shaw stood with his fists planted at his hips, broad and intimidating. His dark eyes bore into them and he sneered. “You have no business here.”

“We do. You took something of ours, and we want it back.”

“Tell us where she is. And the boy, too,” Betsy added, flanking Henry and staring scornfully at the man who thought he could get in their way.

“It’s none of your business,” he said, shrugging. “Should’ve kept a better eye on the pups, instead of troubling me with your worries when it’s too late.” Ororo made a sound of distress. “Especially you, little one. You don’t belong in a place like this, unless you work here in the parlor. If you don’t leave now, I’ll have your hide to lay in front of my fireplace as a rug, and your girls here in silk stockings selling my ale and their pretty-“

Henry barreled into him with an angry roar.

*


Victor obeyed Cerebra’s whispered directions in his ear, guiding Brutus toward the docks. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the whores and some gap-toothed men playing a shell game and throwing dice. Victor had grown up in a neighborhood like this, and he’d always been grateful to find himself in the king’s employ with duties he was proud of. If he hadn’t risen above the circumstances of his birth, he’d still be here, either swindling or being swindled.

He didn’t trust the looks of the denizens enough to want to tether Brutus while he went inside. The horse nickered at him uneasily, as though he wasn’t enjoying the prospect, either, and he flicked his long, glossy black tail in protest.

A woman of ill repute sidled up to him as he tied the horse’s bridle. “Fancy a toss?” she beckoned. He winced at how close she stood and her fetid breath, even though she was comely. She wore an unrepentantly red gown and her hair hanging down her back in a riot of curls, dressed with a tiny feathered cap. Her coat was open despite the chill, revealing her endowments shamelessly.

“Nay,” he muttered.

“There’s sweetness to be found in these knickers,” she promised, pouting. “Don’t know how good you’ve had it til you’ve had little Pearl.”

“Pearl, huh?”

“Aye. If you’ve ten gold coins, I’ve an hour to put a smile on your handsome face.” He smiled knowingly and drew her close, as though he was about to share a secret.

“There’s diseases in those knickers of yours, pet,” he told her, enjoying her horrified expression. “And I’m looking for something younger and more tender than you.” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist and shoved her back roughly, nearly making her slip in the slush and ice on the street.

“What do you know of tender? You’ve been hacked about as much as I have, from the looks of you!”

“Aye, lass. I’m used up, and I’m in no mood for games.” She attempted to move away, but he caught her wrist again and jerked her close. “You’re going to help me.”

“Like hell I will!”

“Aye, you will. Tell me where I can find a boy I’m looking for.” At this she brightened, her painted lips curling into a smirk.

“So that’s how you fancy it. Well, well…”

“Tell me!” he barked, spittle flying from his lips. He looked the picture of rage and impatience, eyes dilated and nostrils flaring. His heavy blond brows slammed down over his eyes and long, mulish lines bracketed his lips. She felt his hot breath and shivered. “Not just any boy. I want the boy I know was brought into town two nights ago.”

“I might know of a new prize that my mistress brought home,” she stammered. Her voice went from coy to anxious as Victor gripped her face, fingers biting painfully into her cheeks. “Feisty thing…”

“Where?”

“My tongue might loosen a bit for some coin,” she suggested hopefully. His gaze was thunderous.

“I’ll loosen it for you with my knife if you don’t lead me to him.”

“Don’t…don’t be hasty.” She searched his face for compassion and found none. His voice was low, growling hiss.

“I promise you…you won’t be so lovely anymore if you delay me long enough that the boy comes to harm. Even a hair on his head, I promise you. I think you know the boy I’m looking for. Tall. Thin as a wisp. Long, silky hair the same color as cinnamon.”

“Perhaps I’ve seen a boy like that, but they’re a dime a dozen around here,” she sniffed.

“This one’s special.”

“What could be so special about him?”

“His eyes. Like none you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve seen ‘em all. Tell me another one.” But he saw her falter, heard her voice catch; she knew who he was talking about.

“His name’s Remy.”

“Common enough name.”

“He’s no commoner.” Her brows lifted and her smile shuttered again. “Important people are looking for him.”

“No more important than you,” she scoffed.

“Much more than me.”

*


“What’s going on down there?”

“Where?”

“What’s that man doing?” Dani asked, pointing toward the dock. Sam hadn’t landed yet, and she was bracing herself for what she knew would be an iffy landing. Sam’s face mirrored her concern as he saw a large man haggling with a woman in red.

“Payin’ for time with a painted lady,” Sam shrugged. She could barely hear him over the wind and his own blasting field generated by his flight. “Can’t worry about it now, Grumpy.” It was a hated nickname, and Dani would make him pay for it later, but she was still worried.

“He might hurt her. Take us down, Sam.”

“We’ve gotta look for the building Rahne told you about!” He was already descending, even as he protested. Dani’s instincts were usually correct.

“We can look on foot.”

He took them down, and she closed her eyes, holding onto him extra tight. Sam’s muscles tensed and she felt him straining for control as he tried to angle his legs down to land on foot. His blasting field, which offered him a great deal of invulnerability to injury, was a double-edged sword; it was difficult to steady himself when it came time to stop, and he frequently face-planted as he reached the earth.

This time was a welcome exception, except that he didn’t calculate the slickness of the damp snow. He skidded wildly through it, blazing a trail toward a nearby vendor cart. “WHOOOO-OH-OOOOAAA!” Dani cried out. They landed in a tangle of limbs and fallen produce. Dani checked them both over for broken bones, then removed a leaf of cabbage from her hair.

“My cart! DEMONS! My CART!” the vendor cried. “You little hooligans! You’ll pay for this!”

“We ain’t demons,” Sam explained hastily.

“Sorry!” Dani offered. “We’ve gotta go!” She shook her head at his supplies. “Those bananas look rotten, anyway…”

“ROTTEN?!?!”

“Bye,” Sam told him quickly as he dragged Dani away. They hurried away toward the pier, checking the street for the man and woman they spied earlier.

“There she is!” Dani hissed. “He’s going to hurt her, Sam! He’s got a knife!”

“Not for long,” he vowed, and Dani felt the air around them charging with energy as Sam powered his blast field.

“Careful!” she called out.

“I am!” he argued as he took off like a shot. Sam careened through the street, passing openmouthed onlookers. He aimed for the large man’s back, hoping he made his mark.

Victor’s breath exploded from his chest as something barreled into his back with the force of a hundred elephants, lifting him off his feet. The woman in red was knocked aside, landing ungracefully on her rump, but she was relieved to be free of the threat of Victor’s knife. Automatically she ran for the homely, three-story building across the street and two blocks down. She glanced curiously at the two youngsters that appeared out of nowhere, one a tall, gangly blond who might possess rugged good looks when he was fully grown, and an exotic looking girl with dark skin and long, shining black plaits.

Victor recovered himself, but his whole body throbbed with pain, not only his back, but also his palms and knees where he’d skidded and tried to catch himself upon impact. His knife skittered away across an icy puddle, just shy of being knocked off the pier. He roared angrily and struggled to his feet, and Sam met his glare and heaving, massive chest as he accosted him. Victor’s large hand tangled itself in Sam’s coat, and he lifted him off the ground, no mean feat. He shook him.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done! She was going to tell me where he is!”

“You don’t hurt a lady!” Sam accused.

“Not while we’re here!” Dani added. Adrenaline pumped in her system as she saw Sam’s frightened eyes, and she concentrated on the giant holding him captive. She reached out with psychic fingertips and brushed the surface of Victor’s mind, pulling forth his greatest fear. Victor’s eyes bulged and he staggered, unaccustomed to the sensation of someone breaching his mental defenses.

“Put him down!” Dani cried.

“God in heaven,” Victor grunted as he felt part of himself being stolen away. The fragment of his psychic essence flew from him, materializing before him, to his horror. Sam gasped at the vision, then grunted as the giant huntsman dropped him. Victor’s hands flew up to his head, tangling in his hair, pressing against his temples in an attempt to stem the vision and cut it short, but it played out before them all. He was helpless.

The image before them shifted, warped by a strange, rosy mist. Victor’s knife appeared, streaked with thick blood. It faded away, replaced by the sight of Victor pinning Remy to a tree, his face crazed and desperate as he brandished the knife at his vulnerable throat.

“Spirits,” Dani whispered. “No! What have you done?”

“I…haven’t,” Victor swore, voice strained and guttural.

The image changed again, this time to a beautiful woman with blonde hair, laughing shrilly as she held up a box. Inside it was a gruesome token, bleeding and…beating. Sam realized it was a heart, and he began to wretch onto the ground, soon followed by Dani.

The final shift in the vision they saw was of the woman carrying Remy in her arms, lifeless and unmoving. She cast his body into a deep chasm, which Dani and Sam realized was a grave once they read the large, carved stone.

“Who’s Remy?” Dani asked.

“He’s…the prince,” Victor whispered. “He’s…special. And he’s in danger…” Dani released her grip on him, and he collapsed to his knees. “Damn it…what’d you do to me?”

“I didn’t mean it…you were going to hurt Sam.”

“Wouldn’t have, if you pups hadn’t come after me like that,” Victor sputtered impatiently. Sam dutifully offered him his hand and helped him to his feet. “Brats. Where are your parents?”

“We have none,” Dani snapped. “What’s it to you? Why were you going after that woman?”

“She knows where Remy is, the boy I’m trying to save.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was taken,” Victor growled. “While I was out hunting with him.”

“Hunting?” Dani demanded. “Wait, you tried to hurt him. You’re trying to kill him!”

“Nay!” he said quickly. “Not anymore!”

“That doesn’t sound much better,” Sam reminded him angrily. “Who’s to say you aren’t going to try again when you find him, huh?”

“Why are you here?” Victor said, changing the subject. “What brings you to the docks?”

“We’re looking for my sister,” Dani told him. “She was taken, too. She was caught when she followed a boy that she said someone tried to hurt back in the woods, while she was hunting.”

“Are you out of your minds? You sent a little girl hunting?”

“She’s special,” Sam explained. “That’s all you need to know.”