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CAJUN CINNAMON
Book One of
the Annwn Ryu Cycle
Chapter XI
"Colors"
White. Pain. One
drop of red. Cleansing pain against a backdrop of torment. Shame. Slow
ache of torture.
Cayanne jerked
herself back from the edge of a doze. Full awareness did not ease her
feeling of inner turmoil.
She tilted her head back, resting the top of her hair against the
metal wall.
Shadows danced and flickered and danced, and she knew the
time for action was nearing.
Forgive me. her mental cry was totally silent, yet
completely heartfelt.
The whispers increased to an unbearable volume, wrapping her in
maddening cacophony.
Non! Taisez-vous! Arrêtez!
Gritting her teeth, the teen-ager snatched up a shard of
glass, swiping it across her open palm.
The sharp pain blocked out the racket - for a moment. Only seconds
later, the whisper-voices were back with a vengeance.
Cayanne slammed her aching hand against the wall, but this time,
it had no effect.
A voice emerged from the jumble, soft yet strong. Oddly familiar.
You gave me hope, a debt beyond repayment. Sleep, Cayanne.
Wha....
Let me help you. Images flickered and spun, brief flashes
against madness. Vague memory, misty and indistinct. Confusion.
I call Rafe n' Nathan...
No. They cannot do this. Do not fear.
Qu'arrive à moi?
This we planned, Cayanne. It shall be done. Sleep now.
Exhausted, confused, the girl crumpled before she could fight
it off, sleep claiming her mind.
When she lifted her eyes, they were not her own. Something lurked
behind them, looking through them, examining it's surroundings.
Ah, child. it thought. I shall do this for you - yet
also for me. Sleep, little one.
One foot followed the other up the stairs.
It was time.
The boy was stable, breathing steadily in the metal hospital bed.
Hank checked the monitors one more time, then breathed a sigh of relief.
Though obviously still injured, the lad was out of mortal danger and on
the mend.
He had shooed the others out of the MedBay with admonitions to get
some rest themselves, and turned his full attentions on the injured
youngster in his care. His cracked ribs were carefully wrapped in
feather-soft, durable cloth; and his head injury - now barely visible -
was bandaged with a finely woven material that would slowly fall away as
the wound healed.
Stretching, the blue-furred mutant slid off his stool, padding
over to the bed. Unconscious or not, the youngster radiated a kind of
wounded innocence only found in the very badly abused or neglected. It
was clear that, in many ways, though he was physically a teen-ager,
psychologically he was badly injured.
Hank shook his head sadly. If not for Cayanne, it was almost
certain that this poor boy would be dead - or simply in a vegative coma,
body clinging to life while his mind deteriorated beyond repair. Even
with telepathic intervention, it would take months - even years - for
him to fully recover. Physically.
Rubbing his knuckles into his eyes, the physician reluctantly
made his way down the hallway to his room for a brief nap. He stretched
out, eyes closing, and was asleep before he could think about it.
Step. Foot forward. Step... The drone of almost-no-thought
kept the Presence from losing control of the young form it possessed
temporary control over. It exulted, briefly, in the sensations of simply
being alive. Yet nothing distracted from the mission it knew must be
done. In exchange for the selfless gift received, it swore to aid the
youngster. Such oaths were not to be taken lightly.
The first door loomed in front of her, and it rested a hand
against it.
After this was done, two people would be - changed. .
Cayanne had so been concerned that this would be - invasion at
best, rape at worst. Yet she had agreed. To allow the Presence to
control her body, to do what had to be done. Though she understood - on
at least one level - the why, she did not understand the
necessity of the how. Yet the alternative - two souls would
remain in torment. One forever condemned to a loss, the other struggling
with a torment unexpressed and undeserved.
The sleeping awareness would not remain so for long. It would
have to be done swiftly, before the girl regained consciousness, again
sending the Presence to it's rightful place in the background.
There was no turning back. The Presence pressed
lightly on the door, stepping swiftly into the shadows.
Zane and Liam were asleep when Justin shook them lightly. Liam
was, as always, afraid to be alone and had curled up with his best
friend, thin body taking up precious little space.
"Ssssomething's wrhooong." Justin's speech was
sibilant, soft, and unless one got to know him, sinister.
Zane's arm went around his friend, who had sat up so fast he
nearly fell out of the bed.
Justin folded his wings tight against his back. "Nnooot
Liiiam's rrreeeeal looook." the young mutant soothed. "Caaaayane.
Ssssomething's wrhooong."
"We gotta find her. C'mon, Liam." Zane bounded from
the bed, aware of Liam and Justin rushing to follow him.
The Presence had slid into an almost-trance by the time it
reached the X-Man's bedside.
Lifting her hands to rest inches above his chest, she
concentrated, aware of a flicker of movement in response. Pores in the
skin opened, and fiber-thin filaments emerged, flowing swiftly from deep
beneath the skin, within the bones, of the mutant known as Wolverine.
The filaments flowed upwards, at the same time Logan's body changed,
flowing through several forms - feral, then almost animal, then
back, then - what? A man, same as before, but - right. This form.
It was - right. A section of his mind, long sleeping, hidden from
him - what happened to him??!! - woke, flowing into his
awareness-behind-awareness. Damage was repaired. Changes occurred. And
he was - right. So the child would have known. Right.
Logan slept, and the Presence stumbled from the room,
slumping against the wall.
One down. One to go.
Justin lay a hand on the stone, receiving an "imprint"
of passing bodies. However, he was still unsure of his power, and the
fact that he was unsure of when certain people passed made his
psychometric gift iffy at the moment.
Zane turned to Liam, who had pulled his face mask on to hide the
failure of his illusion-self. He knew the younger boy was terrified of
being seen as he was, but this was an emergency. If he was right,
Cayanne was in deadly trouble.
"I shoulda listened to you to begin with, Liam." the
young mutant said, by way of apology. "We gotta get help."
"The older ones won't listen." whisper-said the young,
dark-haired boy. "They think we are not quite right, you
know."
"Then we go over their heads. To Mr. Summers."
The Presence had reached the second, final target.
Standing over Scott's bed. Staring down at him. Watching him
sleep.
Barely aware of the thought, it lifted his glasses from the
nightstand, feeling the coolness of the lenses. Cayanne's sensitive
fingertips quickly found the points they joined the frames, and with a
simple flick of thumb and forefinger, popped the ruby quartz from the
housing. Carefully, the Presence replaced the frames, then stacked the
lenses a bit out of Scott's reach.
A momentary Surge, like nothing he had ever sensed,
Xavier, for a split second, to lose consciousness. His telepathic
sensitivity had simply - overloaded.
Cayanne?
Zane and Liam were hiding behind the MedBay door while Justin
hung, bat-like, from the ceiling-beam above them.
"Where'd she go?" whispered Zane, shifting his weight
slightly.
"She would go far away from the ones she loves."
replied Liam, also in a whisper. "If she thinks she was bad."
"We gotta say."
"Whree do nhot khnoow foor shuuur thaat yhooou ahrrre
rhiiiight." pointed out Justin, from his perch.
"If I'm wrong, no harm done. If I'm right, it might
help."
"Iiiif yhooou ahrrre rhiiight, thehnn shee iss ihnn
dhaannger?" Half a question.
"She's not the type to just roll over and let life run her
down. I think I am right, and we better warn Summers before she
gets too far. You know what could happen, guys."
"Therrre iss alrhedddy dhaannger." Justin's
wings extended, whisper-silent, then retracted.
Zane ran his hand through his white-blonde hair, and exhaled
softly. "I hope not."
Liam looked down, but Zane rested a hand on his shoulder, and
Justin's tail came around to rest gently on his shoulders.
Logan's shout woke everyone on his floor, and Scott
actually fell off the bed in a wild attempt to grab his glasses.
Snatching the frames, he tossed them haphazardly on his face, saw Jean
swim into vision, realized there was no red and tried frantically to
close his eyes - but nothing happened.
No blast of energy, no flash-blaze of fiery destruction,
nothing.
"J-j-jean?" he whispered, eyes huge behind the
mutilated frames. He saw red hair, he had always known she had fiery
masses of red hair, but her eyes were green. Green? He hadn't seen green
since he was seventeen years old, since his power took away everything
but red in his vision. She was speaking, he was aware of chaos around
him, people running, the Professor's telepathic voice trying to calm
everyone down - Warren's wings, white as clouds, spread slightly in
alarm. Bobby's tousled blonde hair in a mop. Colors. So many colors.
Scott? Jean's telepathic voice wrapped around him, soothing,
calming, sensing his wonder and confusion.
Logan barrelled out of his room like a freight-train on it's way
to no good. "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED??!!" he roared, eyes
blazing.
Everyone was gaping.
Scott whispered, "Logan?"
The athletic, sharp-featured man stood eye to eye with him, hazel
eyes blazing from blue, to green, to a feral gold, grey, and back again.
He was waving his arm around in something between fury and a kind of
bewildered shock. "Look!" he commanded. With a "snickt",
his claws popped out, curving slightly in the dim light.
The change was as great as between a machete and a katana -
the glitter was not metal, but swirling palely, almost unnoticeably,
with inner light.
I suggest an immediate meeting. Xavier's voice was gentle,
surrounding them all but not drowning out the increasing babble.
"Warren...look at your hand." whispered Bobby, though
everyone heard him.
The winged mutant glanced down, his blue eyes widening with
shock. The skin was fair, if pale, like a man too long out of the sun.
But no longer what he privately called "corpse blue". Normal.
Tingling with life.
They all stared at one another, Logan pacing back and forth,
growling under his breath.
Cayanne held her hands over her ears, pulled her knees up to her
chin, and tried frantically to force out the whispers. They were all
around, hissing softly, and she almost wished she'd fall from the tree.
Anything to make it stop.
Her father's voice, calling from the window below. "I
know you hear, peu d'ange." Voice worried, but - no anger?
None? That confused her, and she crawled down, awkward with
uncharacteristic confusion. She dropped to the windowsill, tried not to
flinch. More than anything, she could not bear his disappointment.
Marie in the background, sitting up on the bed. The room like but
not like the one her father had in New Orleans.
She closed her eyes.
Remy wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, cheek against
her hair.
Cayanne clung to him. It was all that mattered.
Logan stretched several times, twisting his frame from side to
side to get the feel of the new inches. Muscles responded faster than he
would have expected, and he made a mental note to do some serious
workouts in the Danger Room.
Scott was staring at the walls, the ceiling, the lights, edges of
books, eyes unshielded and so blue they seemed to be an impossible
shade. He was almost in shock, and Jean had a protective arm around him.
Warren wanted to get out of the room, out of the mansion, and
into the sky. His wings trembled slightly, though he did not spread
them, indicating his disquiet.
After the initial din had settled a bit, Xavier spoke carefully,
quietly. "Does anyone feel ill?"
Logan growled, and Scott reached over, almost without thinking,
and rested a hand on his shoulder.
Jean's voice was worried. "What happened?" she asked,
running a hand through her hair.
"I think dat more who happen' better question, non?"
Remy eased the door closed behind him. He glanced about once, then
addressed the Professor. "Cayanne come down from her tree few
minutes ago." His gaze blazed a moment. "Say she want leave,
but dat not it. Somethin' scare her near to death, and she not scare
easy."
Xavier regarded him steadily, and the younger mutant glanced at
Logan, blinked, then regarded the still-somewhat-distracted Scott.
"Ampèreheure." was all he said.
Cayanne was packing. She didn't want to think, so she was being
meticulous in folding. Her stomach was in knots, and her head was
pounding, making her eyes sting - or so she kept telling herself.
Marie had finally left her alone, worried gaze following her out,
and the teen heard the chatter and thumps of her age-mates off to class.
Look like be an'ther absence. she thought, trying hard not
to allow bitterness in.
A knock made her jerk upright, and she almost angrily flung the
door open - to reveal Professor Xavier.
"Que voulez-vous?" she snapped, then kicked
herself. With a sigh, she opened the door wider.
Xavier looked around, then turned his eyes back to the teen-ager.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, gently, closing
the door gently behind him.
"What dere to talk about?" Cayanne glared, clenched her
fists. "Mon Dieu, don't you understand? I -"
"Cayanne." His hand touched her gloved one, and he felt
her tense. Gently, but firmly, he pressed down until she sat on the bed,
one leg over the other, eyes guarded. "I think this is the moment
you are going to have to choose whether to make a stand or run
away."
"What?!" it was almost a yell. She exploded,
"Don' you un'nerstand?! I worse than betray! God only
knows what I did! Invade - against ever'thig I believe in! What
dat make me??!! Hypocrite at least!" The girl was almost raving, so
furious was she, and her blazing eyes made Xavier suddenly glad he was
not her enemy.
"Why did you do it?" he asked, folding his hands.
She rose, paced, said nothing for a moment. Clearly she thought
he would leave, but finally she said, "It sound silly."
"Ah. Well, I can assure you I have done my share of foolish
things." he commiserated.
Cayanne stood at the window, said nothing for a moment, then
growled, "Une Voix m'a indiqué à."
"A Voice?" He kept his voice very gentle.
"Oui. You happy now? I hear t'ings." She slammed
the suitcase shut.
"What kind of things?"
Through gritted teeth, "Voices. Sometimes, too much. Not
loud-too-much, too-many-too-much."
"Cayanne, I hear things also." He blocked the door,
spoke with gentle, yet unyielding authority. "And I know, from your
father and you yourself, you are not in the habit of running. Something
terrified you."
"'C'n take care o' m'self." she growled, but he caught
an instant of uncertainty, and his heart went out to her. Poor child,
to try to face this alone! He would have gone mad if not for the few
friends who had stayed by his side as his own telepathic abilities
manifested. The terror, the vulnerability, the mind-numbing panic had
been almost more than he could bear.
But she didn't need, or want, varnish or trite comments, she
wanted the truth. He was going to have to be strong enough to give it to
her, now, or he - and the others - would lose her. And he suddenly felt
a surge of pain at the thought of the quixotic youth leaving them based
on the terror of her slowly manifesting gifts.
"Cayanne, you are a telepath."
She stared at him, eyes widening slightly as the suitcase fell
from nerveless fingers. "Non." she whispered.
Xavier had heard men face death, amputation, madness, with less
horror in their tone.
"It cannot harm you." He made his voice comforting as
he could, sensing her roiling emotions. She defined telepathy as
invasion, manipulation - rape. Xavier knew he had to reach her, or the
strain would drive her mad.
Or worse.
"Listen to me, child..."
Her fist balled, eyes blazing, and he closed his hand over it,
speaking quietly. "You may hit me if you wish, but first, listen to
me. Your telepathy can be a precious gift." His voice stayed even,
honest, firm. "Do you know how many minds can only be saved through
telepathic intervention? Children sometimes come here half-mad with
terror, or so traumatized they have withdrawn past conventional
medicine's ability to aid them." His dark eyes held her's.
"They are condemned to a life of institutionalization, abandonment,
loneliness, for the rest of their lives; but your gift can set them
free."
The girl's fist loosened, just a little, and he knew she was
listening.
"The mind is a complex thing, Cayanne. Far beyond medical
experience, the telepath can touch a part of the soul that normally
could never be healed. It is not a curse, child. It can be a
blessing."
"You call me chile' again an' I sock you." she
muttered, but he sensed a great deal was going on in her mind, a
struggle between past terror and current events.
"That is - quite fair." he conceded, watching her.
"An' you want teach me dis - telep'thy, oui?"
"To help you master it, yes."
Her gaze was thoughtful. "Not have to stop school?" she
demanded.
Xavier fought down a sigh of relief. She was back, shaking off
her terror in almost palpable waves as she determinedly made a step
forward. "I would not dream of it." he promised.
The grin he got back was pure mischief. "An' you not gonna
tell me how t' think, right?" A bit of a warning.
"Cayanne, I could not if I tried."
"Oui. Très vrai." A long, tentative pause, then
she asked quietly, "Others mad?"
"Angry?" Xavier regarded her thoughtfully. "I
believe you should ask them."
Logan spun, whirled, and dodged through the simulation he
reserved for "real workouts", aware that although the body had
changed - slightly - he was still it's master. He was faster than he'd
ever been, and many times hit targets before he was aware of the fluid
movement that dispatched them.
His claws were the real change. Once - as it was designed to - he
plunged them into electronic tubing, aware his skeleton should conduct -
painfully - the electrical current. Instead, he felt like a cat who had
walked across a thick carpet. He touched the plastic, and tiny
electrical arcs discharged. It took almost half an hour to discharge
completely, and he bounded from the Danger Room feeling - alive. His
body had healed so fast that blood barely escaped, and clearly fatigue
toxins weren't making it into his bloodstream.
If he hadn't smelled her, he might well have run Cayanne down.
She looked up at him, her grin slightly hesitant. "Bonjour,
Logan." she began, watching him closely. "Got
question?"
He wrapped the towel around his neck, and waited.
"Wonderin' if you - fâché avec moi?" There,
she'd said it. The teen watched him, hiding carefully her heart pounding
in her throat. She had already hugged Rafe and Nathan good morning, and
gone looking for Logan right after.
For a long moment the Canadian mutant stared at the
teen-ager, mouth hanging slightly open, then he roared with laughter.
"Don't tell me yer worried about that, darlin'?" he
demanded, staring down at her.
A bit taken aback, she managed, "I invade yer
privacy...."
Logan shook his head. "Darlin', lissen." He crouched
down, looking straight into her eyes. "I may be a Canucklehead in a
lot o' things, but I'm pretty good at judgin' people I think of as
friends. So, how 'bout you worry more about th' next sparrin' session
yer due?"
She stared up at him, then grinned wryly. "Prepare t' be
well and truly whapped, Wolverine!"
Cayanne had no chance to apologize to Scott. The moment she was
opening her mouth, he charged her, lifted her off the ground, and held
her tightly, then spun her around so fast she wasn't sure whether to
feel dizzy or call the paddy wagon.
"You not upset?" she asked, startled by his odd
behavior.
"Upset? Upset?!" He rested his hands on her
shoulders. "Cayanne, because of you...." He looked around,
trying to find a way to translate his joy at seeing colors again into a
concept the teen-ager could readily understand. "Because of you, I
can look into my wife's eyes and see how beautiful a green they are, how
- beautiful they are, and she is." He whispered, and he saw Jean's
eyes fill with tears. His own were shining. "How truly lucky I
am."
Cayanne glanced over at Jean, then grinned. "Yer's are nice
blue, her's green. Nice together." she commented, then wandered
off, grinning to herself.
"Nathan! Catch!" yelled Cayanne, cannoning past the
tall X-Man with a group of boys hot on her heels. Turning on her
heel, she dodged back the other way, springing in the air to field the
throw just as she reached the end zone, narrowly missing being run down
by her own team.
"Ttttouchdhowwn!" called Justin, from his perch
high in the rafters.
"Cheat!" yelled Lance, almost dancing in fury.
"Wimp!" Cayanne shot back, grinning evilly.
"Loser!"
"Hah! This from som'one down 8 points."
"::sputter:: Cheat!"
Cayanne rolled her eyes.
Althea stood ramrod-straight, looking down at Cayanne.
"Children shouldn't play...." she began, then looked up at the
younger teen, disbelieving nursing a bleeding lip from a position on the
ground.
"Ya got a problem, Blondie." growled the young
Cajun, fist still balled. "Want me t' fix it? No charge."
Nathan had broken up a fights between enraged teen-agers before,
and loomed over the older blonde, arms crossed and expression coldly
neutral.
"You wouldn't dare!" Althea snarled, leaping to her
feet.
Cayanne promptly knocked her back down.
Zane came charging to the Cajun's side, with Liam moments behind
him. Justin uttered a low, sibilant hiss audible across the entire
field, eyes flooding red and beginning to glow.
"You're only strong when you've got your friends behind
you!" Althea yelled, frustrated beyond belief.
The young Cajun's grin was positively feral. "Dey not
interfere." She crouched slightly. "So, you apologize now 'r
after I wipe dis grass wit you?"
Althea sputtered, then launched herself at her rival, who was by
no means foolish enough to remain a target for someone with
super-strength.
Spinning with balletic grace, Cayanne swatted the blonde on the
back as she went by, sending her face-first into the grass.
Nathan, feeling completely out of his element, did the only thing
he could think of, and did it almost by reflex. He sent out a telepathic
yell.
Stryfe!!!
Stryfe came out the back door to see Cayanne leaping over
Althea's attempts to strike her, all the while throwing out taunts along
with strategically placed swats. The blows were not even overly
damaging, but the effect was the young Cajun kept knocking her older
opponent down.
The other kids had gathered around, yelling encouragement and
shouting invectives - much like any other group of teens and preteens
would have when a fight broke out among their number.
Nathan was in the thick of it, trying to decide wether to grab
Althea and force the fight to end or stay out of it.
Leave them. Stryfe's advice came from the other side of
the circle, tinged with slight amusement.
She could be badly hurt. objected the other telepath, eye
beginning to glow.
The blonde girl stands not a chance at all, brother. Stryfe
met his "twin's" gaze, humor glinting in his normally
unreadable eyes. This has been a long time coming.
Logan could have disciplined Cayanne for fighting, for
"misusing" her new skills - she might have even accepted it -
but he saw no reason. The young teen had finally called an end to the
battle by simply grinning and walking away, a clear triumph considering
her temper.
"She could have been killed!" objected Scott, who was
furious more at Althea for picking the fight than Cayanne for answering
the challenge. Still...
Remy snorted laughter. "Pas une chance dans l'enfer, mon
ami."
Jean was fighting down a smile herself, as she patted her
husband's arm reassuringly.
"Cayanne's a scrapper, Althea was lucky t' walk outta there
instead of bein' carried." Logan's grin was one of a teacher who
saw their student excel. "Taught the brat a lesson in
manners."
Remy grinned at his friends. "Cayanne not put up with de
foolishness, and now maybe t'ings get better." he commented.
Cayanne found a change in her schedule that nearly had her lose
her composure. Once a week, she had to report to Dorian, and twice a
week to Professor Xavier.
Merveilleux, un rétrécissement et un telepath. she
thought, savagely. Dey not gonna mess wit my mind, not now, not ever!
Her fury was so intense that she felt a mental "question",
a kind of "knock" against her mental shield.
What?! she demanded, so outraged that she didn't care which
telepath heard the mental yell.
I take it you found the schedule update. Xavier's voice
was mild.
I not talk to no shrink, Xavier. You lost yer mind along with
yer hair? she snarled back.
She sensed slight amusement at the accusation, then a light sigh.
Your telepathic abilities leave you vulnerable, Cayanne.
Xavier sensed the girl bridle at that, but went on with gentle
patience. Dorian will not attempt to tamper with your mind, only help
you understand it.
I un'nerstand my mind, t'ank you very little.
Do you? Gently, carefully, but a brief flash of the recent
events sent the girl back a mental step.
There was a long pause, another battle with inner fears and outer
temper, and finally she grumbled, One try.
Let us make an agreement, Cayanne. If you see Dorian thrice, I
shall remove it from your schedule and you may see him only at your
leisure.
A flash of impudence. Two times.
For ninety minutes each. Slightly more than the regular - by
ten minutes - but then, Xavier sensed the need in the girl to reclaim
her independence. Push too hard, and she would refuse all together, back
off and her respect for him would decrease. A careful game, in which he
could not afford to lose. The stakes were far too high.
A mental snort. Sixty minutes each. she returned.
Sixty-five.
Done. And Cayanne's mental presence withdrew.
Xavier felt abruptly the space left by that vivid, quixotic
presence, and smiled to himself. It was a beginning.
Translations from the Cajun (French)
Non! Taisez-vous! Arrêtez!
-
No! Go away! Stop!
Qu'arrive à moi?
-
What's happening to me?
peu d'ange
-
little angel
Ampèreheure
- "Ah."
Que voulez-vous?
-
What do you want?
Une Voix m'a indiqué à.
- A
Voice told me to.
Oui. Très vrai.
- Yes. Very
true.
fâché avec moi?
- You
mad at me?
Pas une chance dans l'enfer, mon ami. -
Not a chance in hell, my friend.
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