Tuesday Night

“Aw, come on! It’ll be fun, and it is the perfect time of year,” Bobby teased Kitty with the book on ghosts and seances, flapping the pages at her and implying she was afraid.

“What do you think, Rogue?” Kitty skeptically questioned her friend as they walked between classes.

“I’ve been in seances before. My great-aunt Mildred was a Spiritualist back in her younger days, so I’m kind of familiar with the process. She used to give seances for the kids in the family every Halloween, but nothing ever happened. She gave me a Ouija board when I was ten. It was just ooky-spookiness, ya know?” Rogue tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear, and pondered Bobby’s suggestion. “Yeah, I’d be up for it. What book are you using?”

Bobby handed the book to her, adding, “If you’ve been there and done that, we really don’t need a book, do we? We’ve got an expert on staff.”

“I’m no expert - just had a few nights of boogedy-boogedy fun, that’s all. If you really want to try this, we’d better start reading up on it. It’s been years, but I remember that there were candles and a crystal ball, and maybe some kind of incense...” Rogue’s mind drifted back to the childhood experiences, giggling in the dark, hand in hand with her three younger cousins around the elegant old lace-covered dining room table, candlelight throwing dancing shadows about the darkened room.

“I’ve seen seances on TV; it’s pretty simple, if you ask me,” Jubilation Lee snapped her fingers and her bubble gum simultaneously. “Between re-runs of “Buffy” and “Charmed” and a few viewings of “Practical Magic” and “The Craft,” we’ll be good to go.”

Kitty added, “I’ll hit some web sites and see if they mostly agree with each other, and we’ll all compare notes. We need to get organized; unless I’m mistaken, this stuff is best done on the night of full moon, and that’s only a few days away.”

Jubilee whipped out her cell and logged into an almanac site, “Yeah - five days. That’ll put the full moon on...” she counted distractedly on her fingers, “Saturday night! How absolutely, wonderfully convenient! It was meant to be.”

Bobby grinned his agreement, “Now we’re talking, ladies! Let’s do “Buffy” eps tonight, “Charmed” eps tomorrow, and hit the books on Thursday and between classes. That’ll leave Friday for planning and organizing, gathering supplies, and figuring out who we’ll invite. Then on Saturday night, we’ll go for it.”

“Sounds like a plan. Saddle up and move out,” giggled Jubilee, as the group scattered before class bells rang.

That night, as Kitty popped the “Buffy” DVDs in and out of the player as they scanned for chosen eps, she posed the question, “Does anyone have any hesitation about doing this? You know, like religious stuff or actually believing that we’ll raise a spirit, anything like that? ‘Cause, I’m sort of on the fence about some of the stuff I’m reading on the Net...” Her face revealed her unsure thoughts.

Rogue replied, “My parents were staunch Baptists and gave Aunt Mildred a hard time. I don’t suffer from those feelings now, so... nope. I’m okay with our plans, as long as there’s no sacrificing animals or drinking weird stuff.”

“Same here,” Jubes agreed. “Oh, here’s the ep I remember.”

They draped themselves across furniture and floor, with popcorn, sodas, and notebooks at hand. Three hours later, all were in agreement there was little information of use, and headed off to bed.

Wednesday Night

The evening’s perusal of “Charmed” episodes gave little more than a basic idea about casting a circle of protection, calling in spirits, and generally setting the tone of the seance. Bobby shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration, “Maybe we’re going at this all wrong. Television shows are intended to be fantasy. If we’re going to do a real seance, we’ll need less fiction and more fact.”

The three females all nodded agreement as candy corn disappeared into their mouths.

“Should we even bother watching “Practical Magic” and “The Craft”, since these shows didn’t give us much to work with?” Bobby was getting bored with the viewing.

“Dude, no! I love the aunts. They’re a hoot!” Jubilee’s enthusiasm brought a grin from Rogue. “Maybe if we are very careful, we can mix up some Midnight Margaritas of our own, and pour them into carefully disguised juice bottles.”

Rogue grinned even wider, “Count me in.”

“Okay: two movies, but then it’s hard-core time,” fussed Bobby. “My ass is getting flat from sitting here watching this stuff.”

“Your ass was flat as a pancake long before we sta....” Jubilee started to say, before Kitty’s hand slapped over the Asian girl’s mouth, effectively muffling her words.

“Now, now, let’s be nice, children,” Rogue chided them playfully. “I’m for bed. I’m going into the library tomorrow morning for research, and if I don’t find anything here that works for us, I’ll go to the downtown one, to see what they’ve got in the ‘occult’ section of the stacks.”

“Ewwww!” Kitty wailed as Jubilee licked her palm to get free of the muffling hand.

“Now, as I was about to say,” Jubes whispered, “I already cleaned out the library here. There’s not much that’s useful. I got a copy of “The Complete Book of Magic and Witchcraft” by Kathryn Paulsen, but haven’t had time to crack it yet.”

“Don’t bother. It’s crap,” Rogue huffed. “I read it years ago. Mostly gobbledygook.”

“When did you become the authority on witchcraft?” Kitty asked, wiping her hand on Jubes’ pants.

“I’m not - I just read the book, and didn’t like it. It’s weird. And old...”

“Sounds like Logan, if you ask me: weird and old,” Bobby deftly ducked the popcorn and candy that hurtled toward his head.

“How old?” Kitty asked, as Rogue thumbed through the book’s opening pages.

“Over forty years, but being old doesn’t mean that it’s good,” Rogue admitted.

“Again, with the Logan reference,” Bobby quipped, before diving over the back of the couch as books and shoes rained down on him.

“I heard that!” the graveled voice echoed from the foyer as Bobby yelped and scrambled for the kitchen door, then on toward the back stairs where he fled for the upper level of dorm rooms. Rogue, Kitty and Jubes started picking up the debris as the Wolverine strode into the room.

“What the hell happened in here?” Logan asked as his eyes surveyed the scattering of food, books and shoes over the couch.

“Nothin’, sugar - just a little discussion, with some seasonal artillery. Want some candy corn?”

“Thanks, darlin’, but I’ll pass. Never had a sweet tooth to speak of,” the feral’s face softened as he gazed at Rogue. Kitty and Jubilee exchanged knowing glances as they piled their arms full and left the room, grinning.

“I have homework to do, and a test first thing tomorrow, so I’ll leave you in peace. There are movies on the coffee table if you want to zone out for a while.”

“Nah, think there might be a game on, though. Wanna go to a movie this weekend? I’ll take you into town and you pick the movie, as long as it ain’t anything sappy.”

“No chick flicks, huh? Not a problem,” Rogue grew thoughtful for a moment, then added, “I’m already booked for Saturday, so how about a Sunday matinee?”

“Sure. Get to work, and get some sleep.”

Tossing him a snapped salute, Rogue said, “Sir! Yes, sir!” and left the room.

Logan shuffled through the scattering of DVDs on the table, picked out “Practical Magic”, put it in the player and settled onto the couch with his boots plunked on the table. Fumbling in his pockets for a key that was poking his leg, the keys tumbled into the couch cushions. As he wiggled his fingers deep into the crevice to fish the keys out, Logan felt something tiny and hard slip between his fingertips.

Pinching and pulling, he produced several pieces of candy corn. Grinning, he blew the lint off the brightly-colored candy pieces and popped them into his mouth as the movie began.

Thursday Night

Bobby flicked the DVD off, grousing, “There’s really nothing in there to help us. Do you really want to sit through “The Craft”, too?”

“I like the buggy part,” Kitty commented distractedly, as all eyes swivelled to her in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, please,” Jubilee moaned, “that’s the suckiest part of the entire movie.”

“But the rest is pretty good, and from what I hear, kind of accurate about some things. I’m up for it,” Rogue settled into the deep cushions as the opening credits rolled, much to Bobby’s dismay. An hour later, she heard the front door slam shut. In moments, Logan strolled into the room and flopped down on the couch between Rogue and Jubilee, throwing an arm around each.

“What’s the fare for tonight, ladies?” He noted Bobby’s expression of disgust.

“Witchcraft!” cackled Kitty in a shrill falsetto that made Logan’s ears quiver inside, but he smirked and settled in for the rest of the movie.

Friday Night

“I give up,” groused Bobby. “Three nights of research, and we’re stuck making it up.” He tossed the copy of Belanger’s “Communicating with the Dead” onto the table.

“Don’t crap out on us, dude. I’m logged onto ghostvillage.com and it’s not bad,” Jubilee turned the laptop around so all could see the screen.

Rogue shoved her hands through her hair to push the white strands back from her face, then offered, “I say we take what we’ve got, and put it all together, and add what I remember from Aunt Millie, then polish the edges.” Her eyes met the others’ as she added, “That is, of you still want to try this seance thing?”

“Why not? The full moon is tomorrow and it’s the closest one to Halloween, so let’s do it. The parties don’t start until next weekend, so it’ll get us in the mood,” Kitty added.

Eventually, Rogue handed the supplies list to Jubilee who was designated Supplies Coordinator. Bobby volunteered to open and air out one of the empty and unused rooms at the far end of the teacher’s wing, making himself the Venue Coordinator. Kitty offered to help and was dubbed Venue Assistant and Gopher, and Rogue was chosen as Seance Facilitator since she had the most experience, having declined the title of Officiating Medium.

They retired for the night, excitement building as the night of the seance drew near.

Saturday Night

With the little table draped in dark blue velvet and candles burning in a circle on the floor around the perimeter, the four huddled on their chairs. Rogue watched the full moon rise through the eastern window as Kitty lit the incense sticks and placed them in a small bowl of sand in the center of the table. Jubilee placed a crystal ball on a pewter base that looked like a dragon’s clawed foot, then using her sleeve edge, polished away a fingerprint she’d left behind. With a squinted glance at Bobby, Jubes asked, “Did you bring the salt?”

“Uhhh...” Bobby hesitated while he dug in his backpack, then produced three fast-food packets of salt. “Think that’s enough?”

“Oh god,” Rogue groaned, “I thought you were gonna ‘bring’ some, like a bag full, or a bowl, or a box. All the web sites are adamant about salt.”

“I’ll run down to the kitchen and get a salt shaker,” he grumped and started to rise, but Kitty grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the table.

“The moon is already risen, and according to that ceremonial magic website, it’s the hour of Saturn and it’s time to do this now.”

“Without the salt?” Rogue asked.

“Well, we’ve got... this much...” Jubilee ripped open the packets and dumped them into a little dish. “It might be enough, and this is just an experiment, right? It’s not like we’re summoning demons or anything evil, so let’s just do this. If it works, we can get more later.”

“Oookay,” Rogue agreed as they all joined hands around the table, her gloved hands grasping Jubilee on the left and Kitty on the right, who bracketed Bobby as well. Clearing her throat, Rogue spoke the initial words of the seance, “We declare this seance to be opened, and invite any spirits to make contact with us.”

The foursome sat in silence as the candles flickered, the twin streams of incense smoke danced and curled in the darkness.

“Is anyone there? Are there any messages for us?”

“Maybe we’re not concentrating hard enough,” offered Kitty, and Jubilee frowned hard, making her eyes cross as Bobby erupted in laughter before Kitty kicked him under the table. “Pay attention, Bobby!”

“Okay,” he stifled himself and focused again for a few seconds. “Hey, did you hear that?”

“WHAT?!” The three females chorused.

“You are sooo easy.”

Kitty kicked him again, harder, and made him grunt in pain.

Rogue continued, speaking in a low voice at nothing in particular, “We open a portal to the other side, and welcome any spirits who have messages, unfinished business, anything that needs to be said. Show yourselves; speak to us. Give us a sign that you are present.”

Jubilee shivered slightly, then whispered to Bobby, “Dude, cut that out. I can feel the cold rolling off of you.”

“Uh, Jubes, it’s not me,” Bobby whispered back, hesitantly. “I’ve got the mutation cranked down. You’re just not dressed warm enough in this old room. Black lace isn’t for October in New York.”

“I look fantastic, and you know it,” Jubilee sniped, gripped his hand tighter, then commented, “Your hand does feel warm. Why am I cold?”

“Maybe it’s a cold spot. That’s supposed to happen when spirits are present,” Rogue muttered, then added, “Is anyone there?”

Bobby felt the hands gripping his on both sides tighten to the point of pain as heavy footsteps echoed in the hall just outside the door. A shadow passed beneath the door as the doorknob suddenly rattled and turned, the door bursting open.

“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” Logan growled through the open door as the four gasped and then relaxed. “What’s that smell? Thought the place might be on fire until I traced it up here and knew it was somethin’... sweet-smellin’.”

“It’s just some incense sticks, Logan - it’s okay. We’re having a seance,” Rogue explained in a calm voice, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. “Wanna join us?”

“Nah, that stuff makes my nose go out of whack. Just try not to burn the joint down, okay?” With four nods of agreement, Logan shut the door and they heard his footsteps fading away, back down the hallway.

“As you were saying before we were so rudely interrupted,” groused Bobby to Rogue as she tugged her gloves tighter and they all joined hands again.

“Are there messages for us? Is anyone here?” she repeated to the quiet room.

“Bobby, seriously, turn off the AC, will you? I’m shaking from the cold,” Kitty complained.

“I told you, it’s not me. It ‘is’ cold in here, even I can feel it. It’s not.... natural, and it’s not me, I swear.”

Jubilee was bouncing in her seat to keep warm, and they all noted the steam rise from her breath as she asked, “You think we made contact?”

“I don’t know...” Rogue whispered, and then gave a short scream as the candles suddenly blew out in a gust of wind as the room grew even colder.

“Okay, I’m done,” Jubilee said and started to rise from the table when Kitty suddenly pointed to the door. All eyes turned and saw the shadows of feet pass by the door again, doubling back from the direction Logan had left.

“It’s just Logan messing with us,” sniped Bobby, who leaped to his feet and ran to jerk open the door. Sticking his head into the hallway, he saw nothing. No one was there. Kitty was right on his heels and peered around his shoulder.

“It couldn’t have been Logan. He couldn’t have gotten down the hall that fast without us hearing him.”

“Uh, maybe,” Rogue whispered behind them. “Logan is quiet and fast, and he absolutely would try to scare us. But that doesn’t explain that sudden wind, or the coldness. He can’t make that happen.”

“Come on, Jubes, we’re apparently making some progress. Let’s try again,” Kitty was tugging her hand and they all returned to the seance table again.

The moment they were all seated and were reaching to join hands, the door started rattling on it’s hinges again. It continued as Bobby bravely approached the door, grabbed the knob and tried to hold it still, then suddenly twisted the knob and jerked the door open, expecting to see Logan with his hand on the knob.

There was no one there.

No one was in the hallway at all.

He exhaled slowly, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath, and even his chill breath steamed in the cold air. It seemed to seep through the room, around him, and into the hallway. “Kitty, if someone’s phased out here, can you phase and see them, or if anyone’s invisible?” Bobby stuffed his hands in his pockets to cover the fact that he was trembling.

“Yeah, probably. I don’t know about invisible mutants, but if someone’s phasing, I can see them,” she rose from the table and stepped through the wall beside Bobby, scanning the hallway in both directions. Phasing back, she said, “I’ll search the rooms all around us, just to make sure.” She slid away through the plaster as the other girls gathered behind Bobby.

Less than two minutes later, Kitty reappeared beside Jubilee who gave a squeak of surprise and then swore under her breath. “There’s no one on this floor in this wing but us, visible or phased,” she started rubbing her hands over her upper arms. “Even the teachers are out of their rooms at the other end.”

“Did you go through Logan’s room? Is he there? Is it a wreck? Was there a woman in there with him? What did you see?” The rapid-fire questions poured from Jubilee.

“Perv,” Kitty shushed her friend. “His room was... oh, never mind! He wasn’t there.”

“Like I said before, I’m done. We’ve succeeded in freaking me out, and I’m stainless steel, so we are done. I’m taking my toys and going home,” Jubilee returned to the table to pick up her crystal ball, but her hand froze a few inches from it. Gazing into the crystal surface, she saw the shadow of a disguised face staring back at her from the crystalline surface, as if the man stood just behind her shoulder, watching her. His face was distorted with dark camouflage paint, making him look monstrous in the thin moonlight that slipped through the window.

With a distinct tremor in her voice, she asked, “Kitty, phase again and tell me if there’s someone standing behind me.”

A split second later they all heard Kitty scream, then saw her momentarily phase back into reality, then she phased again and fell through the floor!

“What?! What is it?” Rogue and Bobby were both shouting as Jubilee felt her knees try to buckle. She grasped the table’s edge for support, the crystal ball rolling out of it’s holder and thudding onto the floor.

“I’m so out of here,” she rattled breathlessly as she grabbed things from the tabletop, stuffing the half-burnt incense sticks top-down into the sand to extinguish them. “Game’s over, and I’m not playing any more.” She rushed from the room.

Kitty’s head appeared through the floor again just as Jubilee exited the room, making Rogue and Bobby both squeak with fright before they realized the bodiless head on the floor was Kitty’s. “I’m standing on Pete’s shoulders. I landed on him while he was reading, but we’re okay.”

“What did you see behind Jubes?” Rogue asked anxiously.

“A soldier,” Kitty spoke softly. “One of Stryker’s goons.”

Sunday Morning

“We are all in agreement, then,” Bobby whispered as they huddled over breakfast together, “we don’t talk about last night, and we don’t ever try anything like that again.”

“Agreed,” chimed Kitty and Jubilee, but Rogue remained silent.

“Rogue?” Bobby prompted her.

“Okay, but only if nothing else happens. If we invited something bad into the house, we’ll have to hope it either goes away, or we have to make it go away, since it’s our fault. I mean, I slept fitfully, had weird dreams, but nothing ‘unusual’ if you take into consideration what we did last night.”

“You think that we actually did raise a ghost, then?” Bobby questioned her.

“Do you have any better explanation for everything that happened? The cold? The shadows outside the door that you felt rattle half off it’s hinges? The face Jubes said she saw in the crystal, and the soldier that Kitty saw in phase? Do you still think it’s all Logan pulling one over on us?” She nervously sipped at the hot coffee in her mug.

“Speak of the devil,” Jubilee whispered as Logan strode into the room looking distracted. His hair was disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned, and his chin was unshaven. Making no eye contact with anyone, he grabbed coffee and a newspaper and left quickly, heading for the terrace behind the mansion.

Rogue started to rise to follow him, as Jubilee hissed, “We agree - mouths closed on the subject, until further notice.”

“Yeah, okay, I guess...” Rogue agreed distractedly as she left the table and followed Logan onto the terrace.

The day was bright and clear but chill as golden leaves tumbled over the lawn, pooling in piles within the terrace wall in corners and beneath steps. Crunching intentionally through them, she stepped to his side where he leaned against the wall, scanning the headlines and swigging down the hot coffee. “Mornin’, sugar.”

“Hey.”

“Bad night?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Logan emptied the cup and flipped to the sports section.

“Me, too,” Rogue sighed, and leaned against the wall beside him. His hazel eyes came up at that, and he turned toward her.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, concern showing in his face as he regarded her eyes, dark circles beneath showing through the pale skin. He tugged one strand of her straggly white hair before she self-consciously tucked it behind one ear.

“Yeah, just a rough night, too much in my head, some nightmares. You havin’ nightmares again?” She bumped a shoulder against his arm in camaraderie.

“Yeah,” he confessed, but said nothing else.

“Same stuff? Military stuff? Lab? Cage?” Rogue baited him for information.

“Yeah, same shit, different night,” he avoided the subject without confirming anything. “What’s got you stirred up and not sleepin’, kid?”

“Oh, nothing - just been watching too many creepy shows lately. Promise me we’re not going to a horror movie, and I’m yours for the day. If we’re still on for that matinee, that is...” she rolled her eyes up toward him.

“We’re on - you pick it, just... no love stories or dying relatives or crap like that. And no animated penguins or dancing pigs or teenage vampire angst.”

“What’s left?” she giggled and snagged the entertainment section from him.

Three hours later, they were knuckles-deep in a giant tub of buttered popcorn, taking turns in grabbing handfuls so Rogue could go bare-handed and not soil her gloves. Rogue felt painfully aware of Logan’s warm, hard bulk beside her in the close-quarters seating. She instinctively snuggled against his shoulder as the scenes flickered by. Halfway through, his arm was around her shoulders and they sat in snug silence through the rest of the movie.

Walking back to the truck, Logan asked her, “What was all that seance stuff last night? You takin’ up witchcraft or somethin’?” His sly smile told her he in was teasing mode.

“Yep - if I can’t control my mutation on my own, I’ll just hex myself and solve everyone’s problems.”

“You’re not a problem, and you’re not ‘everyone’s,” Logan pulled the truck door open for her. “There will be no hexing, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“If my cunning hex works, you’ll be able to ‘touch’ my ass,” Rogue wriggled her eyebrows and gave him a cheesy grin.

“Tease.”

“I’m hungry - want a burger?”

“Sure.”

Dinner that night was spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread, and Rogue woke at two am with raging indigestion. Sorting through her medicine cabinet, she grabbed antacids and ate two before closing the door again.

For a split second, she thought she saw movement behind her, reflected in the mirror’s surface, and turned with a start. No one was there.

“Remind me not to eat salty popcorn and cheeseburgers as an appetizer before garlic bread and spaghetti,” she mumbled to herself as she wandered back toward her bed. Before she could pull up the blanket, she heard a hoarse male cry from a distance. Grabbing a robe and sliding it on, she instantly ran for Logan’s room. It had to be the nightmares again.

Racing to his door, she heard him muttering inside. Pounding on the door, she shouted, “Logan? Logan, wake up!” He didn’t respond. Grabbing the knob, she swung the door wide, glad that he’d left it unlocked, but she ventured no further than the threshold.

Enough moonlight flooded the room that she could see him sitting straight up in the bed and trembling, his head cradled in both shaking hands. He muttered, ‘holy shit, holy shit’ repeatedly as he shoved his fingers through his hair, then held them stretched forth at eye level, seemingly searching his hands for some unseen thing.

“Logan, talk to me,” Rogue spoke softly, trying to ease him from the night terrors. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned and waved off Storm who approached with stark concern showing on her face. “It’s okay, I got it.”

Storm nodded her acknowledgment and returned to her own apartment.

“Loga...” Rogue began again, before he cut her off.

“Yeah, kid, I’m... awake,” he hesitated, choosing the words carefully. “Did you see anyone standing beside my bed when you opened the door?”

“No, no one. Were you dreaming?” She stepped quietly into the room, closing the door behind her, less wary now that Logan was awake and conversing. She sat lightly on the bedside and rubbed one gloved hand over his bare shoulder. “What did you see?”

“Soldiers. I was dreaming, I guess,” he shook off the adrenalin rush and turned to her in the gloom.

“Stryker’s soldiers? The ones from the lab?”

“Yeah... no. It was.. I don’ know,” he was clearly rattled, still trying to make sense of the experience.

“Was it the tank-in-the-lab dream again? The ones I have?”

“No. No, it was...” his voice drifted off, then, “I need a beer. Wanna raid the kitchen?”

“Sure,” Rogue blinked in surprise as he turned on the bedside lamp, intently studying his hands again. “What are you looking for?”

“I dunno - thought maybe we had a plumbing leak upstairs. I thought something was dripping on my hand, but it’s dry. There’s nothing there. Just the dream, I guess. Let’s go.”

Over beer and hot tea, they sat in the kitchen as the low chatter from the TV room flooded the background. Artie was scanning channels slower than usual. Logan monitored the TV sounds, then the background behind that, and Rogue saw him physically relax then. He spoke first, “You ever dream about the raid, kid?”

“Lots of times. You?”

“Tonight’s the first time.”

“What was the dream? About Stryker?”

“No. It was the soldiers I killed in the hallways. I thought I saw one of them standing beside my bed when I woke up,” he pulled a long drink from the bottle.

Rogue felt herself grow cold inside, then softly asked, “And you haven’t ever dreamed about them before? Specifically them?”

“Nope.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Let’s get some sleep. You’ve got classes in the morning.”

Rogue lay awake long into the night, wrestling with herself over what to do, who to tell, and what to say to them. She slept little and fitfully until the alarm went off and the school day began.

Monday

“No way - we did not let that bunch of military freaks loose from the grave,” Jubilee snapped the words over their lunch break. “No way in hell, I don’t accept that at all.”

“Who died and made you Queen of Denial?” Bobby commented around his sandwich.

Kitty sat in thoughtful silence through the exchange, then posed, “Maybe it was our imaginations. I mean, there are documented cases of mass hallucinations. Suppose we just ‘thought’ we saw soldiers?”

“No,” Rogue whispered, her gaze focused through the windows to the autumnal carpet of colors in the woods beyond the grounds. “We did it.”

“You really do believe this metaphysical stuff, don’t you?” Bobby looked incredulous.

“Yeah. We made a mess. Now we gotta figure out how to clean it up,” Rogue spoke softly before sipping her tea.

“We? You’re the resident ‘expert’,” Kitty was getting tense. “This was just supposed to be an experiment, some spooky fun for Halloween.”

“Wait a minute, Kit-Kat,” Jubilee broke in, “you were just as anxious to jump into this as anyone else, so don’t go lumping it all on Roguey’s shoulders.”

“How was I supposed to know she could actually ‘do’ anything like raise the dead,” Kitty’s voice grew louder and Jubilee stood up, pointing down into her face.

“You were right in there the whole way; the research, doing the deed, the whole nine yards, so don’t you try to blame her for...”

“Let’s lower our voices, ladies, because people are starting to stare,” Bobby interjected, before both Kitty and Jubilee turned to him, anger showing on their faces.

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Rogue yelled, then checked herself, tightened her gloves, and folded her shaking hands in her lap. Scanning the room, she noticed the Professor observing them from across the room. With a soft smile and a nod of the head, he turned back to the conversation around him. “There are too many people listening here, and on too many levels, if you get my drift,” she nodded toward the telepath and toward Logan who had been talking quietly with Pete at another table, but had now focused on Rogue’s table. Giving him a smile and a nod, she waved assuringly and returned to her lunch tray.

“Sorry,” Kitty murmured, “it’s just... this is freaking me out, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Same here,” added Rogue, with Bobby and Jubes nodding their agreement.

Classes and training filled the remaining day, and that night Rogue noted Logan passing through the hallway toward the front door. “Going out for the night, sugar?” She stepped briskly beside him, matching her steps to his.

“Yeah, sometimes this place gets a little too close for me. Need some breathing space for a while,” Logan jammed his hands in his jacket pockets and stepped aside as they neared the door, looking straight at her. “You okay? You’ve been a little tense lately,” he waited expectantly for her answer.

“I’m fine, just distracted. Lotta weird stuff that doesn’t make sense.”

“You wanna sort through it with me, ‘cause I got time, or you gonna let it simmer?”

“I’m simmerin’,” she nodded with a smile. “If I hit a hard boil, I’ll let you know. Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” The left eyebrow went up at that comment. “Oh, go on! Go have some adult fun that I’m not supposed to know about in my innocent role of little sister. Shoo.” She fluttered her fingers at him, indicating the door.

Rogue noted Logan’s eyes graze slowly over her, taking in every little detail from her hair to her body to her eyes. Her skin seemed to grow suddenly too warm and too tight as he considered her. Leaning in toward her ear, Logan’s voice dropped to that gravel-whisper that made women melt and men check their proximity to the nearest exit. “Little sister, my ass. You’re way too hot for that,” and with a wink he slipped out the door, leaving Rogue standing there in shock.

Rogue played the scene over and over in her head until she finally fell asleep. Logan had not yet returned and she needed some rest for the next day’s full slate of classes. Waking later in the night, she started to pull on a robe, then remembered the benefits of having a private room and headed for the bathroom in her nightie, barefooted. Giving up the dorm room with Jubes and the others had been a little lonely at first, but she was adjusting to having her own space again with no need to worry about bumping into anyone without layers of clothing for protection.

Flushing the toilet, she sleepily regarded herself in the bathroom mirror in the low light. Bed-head might be an acquired taste, but she wore it well. Smiling muzzily at her image in the mirror, she reached for the light switch. Once again, movement in the mirror reflected from behind her caught her attention, and she gazed into the silvered surface to see the camo-painted face glaring at her. The scream that came unwittingly from her own mouth shattered her nerves as the man loomed behind her, hands raised to grab her throat. Whirling to face him, she fell instantly into the training Logan had been hammering into them: do not give up the element of surprise if you have it. Fight if you can’t run, and be quick and deadly. She folded her palm upward, intending to smash the heel into his nose, breaking it and possibly killing him if she was fast enough and strong enough, but the sight of his face when she whirled shocked her.

The soldier was standing there, looking at her, his face hanging in rags of flesh. Bloody slashes across his cheeks and throat left little to resemble a human face. Gagging back the urge to vomit, Rogue screamed again as the breath rattled and bubbled from his sagging, slashed mouth. He pressed closer to her, pinning her against the sink, and when she finally snapped into attack mode again, her fist shot out and passed completely through him.

He was gone.

Vanished.

She was alone in the room, trembling and in shock, and not completely able to accept that it had been a bad dream, or a non-corporeal ghost, because there were drops of blood on the bathroom floor at her feet.

Panting and shaking, Rogue forced deep breaths and leaned against the sink for support while she pulled herself together. Someone was pounding on her door, forcing her out of the bathroom. Opening the door quickly, she let Storm enter, worry etched on the woman’s face. “Rogue, what’s wrong? I heard you screaming.” Storm’s gaze lowered, her eyes registering shock. Rogue looked down and saw blood splattered on her own gown. “Are you hurt? Let’s go to Med Lab right now,” Storm was using her own sleeve to reach a steadying hand to Rogue’s arm.

“No, I’m all right. It’s not what you think....” Rogue scrambled for an excuse to cover her appearance, but came up blank.

“Then why were you screaming in the middle of the night, and I find you here splattered with blood?” Storm’s chocolate eyes were calming her slowly, but Rogue knew there would be no back-pedaling from this -- she would need a legitimate explanation.

“I... I... Did you see anyone...” A male roar from down the hallway was followed by several loud crashes, and Rogue instantly knew that Logan had returned in the night and was in full-assault mode.

“Wait here where it’s safer,” Storm threw at her before running toward the commotion. Rogue rolled her eyes and was hard on Storm’s heels as both women raced down the hallway. A stream of profanity and shouts poured from behind Logan’s closed door. Students with bleary eyes and tense faces were starting to peer from the stairwells at the noise. Rogue could hear the babble of fear-filled voices, and began to wonder herself if they were having a repeat performance of Stryker’s raid.

“Logan!” Storm yelled once, and pounded on the door once. With no response and no end to the shouts from within, Storm turned the knob and flung the door open.

Bathed in moonlight from the window, Rogue could see Logan’s silhouette. He was crouched in attack, claws gleaming in the thin light, and three uniformed figures surrounded him. The curtains hung in shreds and the bed clothes were ripped as if he’d woken suddenly with the claws out.

Storm stopped in shock when one of the figures turned to her. Her shaking hand covered her mouth as the light from the hallway illuminated the soldier before her. Six gaping holes in the man’s torso bubbled bloody froth as he wheezed breaths in and out of punctured lungs. He raised a hand with a gun, aiming straight for the two women framed in the doorway, as Rogue grabbed Storm and pulled her to the floor. Logan roared and leaped over the bed, ignoring the two men by the window and drove both fists of claws into the man’s back, who simply vanished.

Whirling back to the other uniforms, he saw them fade into thin air as well. Panting and confused, Logan turned again to the women, noting Bobby coming up behind them looking white as a sheet. “Are you okay?” he ground out as they nodded. “What the fuck was that?”

Snapping into X-Men mode, Storm gained her feet and turned to Bobby, rushing out, “Check every floor for intruders. Rogue, go to Security and check the monitors for anything unusual. Logan, go...”

“Wait, Storm, wait...” Rogue spoke up. “There aren’t any... uh... intruders.”

“Then what the fuck do you call that guy who just put you both in his cross-hairs?” Logan swore at her, then checked himself slightly.

“I recognized that one,” Bobby spoke softly from the hallway. Then in an even quieter voice, he added, “They’re not.... real.”

Logan flipped the lights on, standing in boxers only, then noticed the blood splattered on Rogue’s nightgown. “Kid, what happened?” he frowned and sniffed, then cocked the eyebrow at her. “That ain’t your blood.”

It was time to spill the beans to everyone. Rogue spread her hands, palms downward, in a soothing gesture, and the words just spilled out, “There are no intruders here tonight. We just saw ghosts. The mansion is haunted.” She looked around her at the unbelieving eyes, and shrugged.

With Security checked and the students herded back to bed, the group gathered in the kitchen to work through their experience. Logan had tugged on jeans and nothing else, and sat on the counter, legs dangling as he sucked down a beer. Bobby dug into ice cream to settle his nerves while Rogue and Storm poured steaming mugs of coffee for themselves. Logan broke the tension first, “Okay, what the hell just happened up there?”

Storm looked to Rogue for an explanation. Bobby ate a giant spoon of vanilla to keep his mouth occupied. With a sigh, Rogue started, “Okay. Believe it or not is up to you, but here’s the story: four of us held a seance on full moon as an experiment, and Logan saw us, then we ‘thought’ we saw something that night, but weren’t sure, and now apparently the mansion is haunted by the soldiers that died here during Stryker’s raid,” she rambled through in one breath, then added, “Any questions?”

Logan snorted and drained his beer, sliding off the counter for another bottle from the fridge.

“Are you sure they are ghosts?” Storm asked gently, then added, “Could they be some sort of mental projection from a telepath, or a hallucination of some sort? I’m trying to explore more approaches than just the obvious one.”

Bobby found the will to speak at last, and countered that theory, “I told you I recognized the one guy, the one who was aiming a gun at Rogue and Storm.” His eyes finally came up from the bowl of ice cream, “I knew him immediately, because the last time he raised a gun at someone, it was me, right here, while I was eating ice cream, just like tonight.” He looked a little queasy and shoved the bowl away. “It was the night of the raid. That guy came in here, raised his gun at me, and Logan nailed him from behind. They struggled, then the guy had a knife and was going for Logan’s throat, so Logan body-slammed him against the fridge and punched all six claws through the guy’s chest. He went down, right there at the fridge door. That was him tonight. I’d know him anywhere, from the camo to the gun to the six holes in his chest.” Bobby’s blue eyes met Logan’s, asking for confirmation, but Logan stayed silent.

Storm waited a moment, then pressed the issue, “Logan, is all of that accurate from what you remember of the night of the raid?”

Reluctantly draining his second beer, Logan finally nodded some agreement, “I don’t remember a lot of fine details like that, because once I’m in it, you know, over the edge like that, some of it becomes a blur. But yeah, that’s what happened, and I thought I recognized them, too. I....” he froze for a long while, and Rogue thought she might have a light stroke before he finally finished the thought, “I don’t think we can chalk off any of this stuff to mental projections or hallucinations or anything like that, because there was no one else in the room but me and Bobby when that guy tried to take us out; no witnesses, nobody knew. So if he’s back, then it’s not because of me, and I don’t think it’s because of you, Drake,” Logan nodded confirmation at Bobby, who relaxed back into his chair. “No one else knew about him, or exactly what happened to him, so I doubt that it’s anyone playing games with our heads. The other three that were in my room just now - I took them out in the hallways, cut ‘em down, alone. No one saw it. A ghost, however, is a stretch of the imagination, especially since you’re splattered in blood that isn’t yours,” he nodded to Rogue.

“I don’t understand that part either. I always thought ghosts were just projections, like energy fields, that you couldn’t touch, and they couldn’t touch you, either,” Rogue added, her voice displaying her confusion and weariness.

“So what do we do about it?” Storm posed the question to the silent room.

Tuesday

“This is a rather challenging story to accept, but there has been a great deal of unexplained agitation in the mansion,” Charles Xavier spoke thoughtfully over a steaming cup in his office the following morning. “The staff and students here tend to be very... intense, shall we say. But these past few days the level of emotional ‘static’ has been higher than normal. It spills over my daily shields at times.”

Rogue, Bobby, Jubilee, Kitty, Storm and Logan all sat gathered around the Professor’s desk, their minds still whirling over the night’s events. Logan spoke first, “If these guys are ghosts, and the kids did manage to somehow call them here from...” he gestured at the air, “wherever, there ought to be a way to send them back the same route. Right?” Rogue noted Logan’s atypical request for validation: he was definitely treading unknown territory.

“That does seem sensible, but I’ll confess: I know nothing about ghosts and the like,” Storm commented, still feeling the lack of sleep. She’d had far too much coffee lately, and it was giving her a caffeine buzz which she detested.

Turning to Rogue, Jubilee asked, “Is there a way to send them back? You’re the closest thing we’ve got to an expert here, since your great-aunt Millicent was a ghost-hunter.”

“It was my great-aunt Mildred, and Aunt Millie was a medium. There’s a difference, and I’m not her, and I don’t know what to do.” The room fell silent for a moment before Rogue continued, “I’ve heard of house cleansings and banishings and stuff like that, to drive out evil spirits, but I don’t know how it’s done, or if you have to have special skills or tools or anything like that. We were just playing a game, for heaven’s sakes... I’m so sorry about all this.”

Logan’s hand went to her shoulder and he rubbed her comfortingly, “No one’s blaming you, kid. You weren’t the only one there. Hell, I even watched the movies with you leading up to that,” Rogue’s eyes went to his in surprise. “Yeah, I noticed all the ghost-buster flicks and the seance books and DVDs, all that shit, every night.”

“You don’t miss much, do you?” Kitty commented with a small smile.

“Not much. You even invited me to join you when I stumbled into the seance, but I blew it off as a game, too. No one’s to blame. It just weird-shit luck it turned out this way,” Logan threaded his fingers through his hair. “I’m still not sure I believe it.”

The Professor eased his chair back from the desk and gazed out the window briefly, adding, “Ghostly manifestations are not unknown, nor undocumented by reliable investigators. There are some things that science cannot yet explain. Even in this age of evolving mutations, some people still cannot believe that a human can fly under his or her own power, or that some people have blue skin, or can read thoughts. And yet, here we are,” he smiled at his staff and students. “We are about to have an education beyond what is normally taught in schools, even a school as unusual at this one. We shall seek an expert.”

Picking up the phone from his desk, Charles punched in a number and waited quietly. Rogue noted no long-distance beeps in the number, so whoever he was calling was very local. As soon as the other person picked up, Charles’ voice and face both brightened noticeably, “Good morning, Bryony. I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but I have need of a consultation with you. Could you come to my office sometime early this afternoon?”

Rogue noticed Logan’s intense focus on the Professor’s conversation, and knew that he was eavesdropping on the other person’s voice with his acute hearing. Noting his intrigued expression, her curiosity leaped, but she fought down the urge to ask what was so fascinating. The Professor’s voice brought her back to the moment, “Very good. I’ll see you here at one, and thank you. Goodbye.” Cradling the phone again, the Professor looked at the group around him, “Our expert will be here at one. I’ll speak with her alone first, and then if you would all make yourselves available here after one-thirty, I would appreciate it greatly. I’d like to see this problem solved with the greatest expedience, for everyone’s sake.”

Nodding agreement, they all went about their morning routines.

“Who do you think it is?” Kitty was almost vibrating with curiosity over lunch.

“No clue, but I’ll bet we could pry it out of Wolvie - he was so listening in on that conversation,” Jubilee poked her soda with a straw. “You could almost see him tuning his ears into the phone, the cheat.”

“You can’t pry anything out of Logan if he isn’t willing to talk,” Rogue commented, then tapped the side of her head when they all looked at her. “I know these things, trust me.”

Bobby came to attention and grabbed Kitty’s arm, poking Jubilee in the shoulder and indicating with his wide blue eyes for Rogue to look through the doors. Passing by the hallway door, they saw the Professor gliding silently down the hall with a dark-haired woman walking beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. The two laughed amiably and chatted as they disappeared behind the doorframe. “That’s got to be her! It’s one o’clock, on the button.”

Moving as a unit, the teens leaped from their seats and ran into the hallway, only to see the two people disappear into the big office, the door closing firmly behind them.

“She looked kind of young and sweet for a ghost-buster.”

“Did you get a good look at her face? I didn’t.”

“She’s dressed like a farmer - I would swear she was wearing bibs under that denim jacket.”

“Maybe it’s not her - maybe it’s someone else.”

Rogue grew tired of the speculation and added, “Maybe we’ll all find out later when the Professor calls us in for the interview. I’ve got class in ten minutes. See ya.”

The afternoon dragged by until Rogue was finally called to the big office. Professor Xavier sat quietly while the denim-clad woman questioned Rogue at length about everything from the timing of the ritual to the actual words spoken, tools chosen, all the fine details she could remember. All during the interview, Rogue noted little details about the woman introduced to her as Bryony Cooper: mid-thirties, wavy dark hair, pretty face with brown eyes and full lips, a casual and friendly manner, and definitely possessed of a thorough knowledge of what questions to ask. She also had a marked rural accent that seemed more northern Appalachian than southern. Rogue grew to like the woman as they talked.

“Tell me about the last manifestation,” Bryony encouraged her as they neared the end of their conversation. They’d talked for well over an hour on all the fine details. “I just need to know about that particular night, and I’ll let you get back to your classes.”

“It was pretty awful,” Rogue began hesitantly, not actually thinking the woman would believe everything she’d experienced last night. After a lengthy description and several specific questions, Bryony shook Rogue’s gloved hand and the Professor escorted Rogue to the office door as Logan was waiting outside. With a wink in Rogue’s direction, Logan turned and entered the open door. Rogue observed Logan meeting the woman and shaking her hand as well, with a big, flirty smile on his face.

As the door drifted shut, Rogue sighed deeply and muttered to herself, “Men. First he says I’m hot, and now he’s charming the ghost-buster.” She returned to her last class.

The interview stretched into the late afternoon before the Professor was called away on business, leaving Bryony and Logan to continue the question-and-answer session on their own.

“Do you mind showing me where you saw these soldiers become corporeal?” The dark-haired woman looked up from the book she’d been taking notes in, and was caught off-guard by the man’s intense gaze and slightly crooked smile.

“Never did mind showing a pretty woman to my bedroom,” Logan teased, and gave her a genuine smile.

“If that’s okay, I mean... I don’t want to invade your personal space,” Bryony blushed and back-pedaled before Logan rose and reached a hand to her.

“Invade. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Logan watched the woman walk quietly around the open space in his room, as if she was hunting something that resided in the air around them. He discretely sniffed her out: she smelled like fresh air and fresh bread and sage and raw green beans. She’d been in a kitchen and a vegetable garden recently. It smelled good. She smelled good.

Her question broke his reverie, “You say they were partly astral and partly corporeal? All at the same time, or in turns, or what?”

Logan thought a moment before answering, “First they looked kind of... misty, like a ‘ghost’ supposedly would look. Then they looked solid, but I threw a punch at one and my hand went right through him. One pulled a gun and tried to fire at the women in the doorway, but there are no bullet holes anywhere. And yet, Rogue had blood splattered on her nightgown from when one of them pinned her to a sink and he definitely touched her. When she tried to hit him, her hand passed through.” He hesitated again, then added, “How weird is this to you?”

She sank down on the windowsill before answering, “I’ll admit this is a lot more intense than most things I’ve dealt with, but it was an intense event that spawned it. Charles told me about the raid a few days after it happened. I was on a trip out of state at the time, and got back late in the night so I didn’t know about the attack and the damage until the next day.” Noting Logan’s confusion, she added, “I live very close by, on acreage behind this mansion. I have a farm back there. You’re my neighbor.”

“A farmer and a ghost-buster? What do you do in your spare time?” He teased her gently, making her laugh.

“Well, with a farm there really isn’t a lot of free time. And the term ghost-buster is a misnomer. I’m...” she hesitated, looking at him intently. “I’m a...”

“A mutant? Me, too - nice to meet ya.” He gave her a grin and a symbolically-proffered handshake.

“No, I’m a witch, but not a mutant.”

His sharp laugh caught her off-guard, and he saw her emotionally shut down to him. Instantly regretting his unintended derision, Logan drew himself up short and apologized, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that. A witch?”

“Yep, a witch. It’s a long story, and best kept for another time. I have a theory about your intruders if you’re interested.”

“Very.” Logan settled himself on the foot of the bed and gave her his full attention.

Bryony Cooper spread her fingers and pressed her hands down on her thighs before speaking, “My theory is: strong emotions are what hold a departed spirit to a spot that means something, like a loved home, or the spot where death occurred, so forth. If the idea of a veil separating the planes of existence is accurate, and crossing that veil is difficult, then the ritual that the students worked may have created a portal, for lack of a better term, allowing the soldiers to start returning. Making multiple trips through that portal may have given them more practical opportunity, or more ‘muscle’ if you will, to become corporeal. Practice does make perfect. From what the others have told me, each encounter becomes more hostile and more dangerous as the soldiers’ spirits start becoming corporeal more often, and for longer periods of time. In a way, they gain strength and power. Are you still with me?”

“I think I am,” he nodded, “ But I’m the one who took them out. Why are they threatening the kids?”

“They were on a mission. They came here to take hostages and let nothing stop them. You killed them, so they want revenge. They’re still on the job - and they don’t want to let anything stop them, especially you.”

“How do you know what they want?” Logan leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m a little empathic, and it just stands to reason.”

“Empathic? But not a mutant?”

“Nope. Been blood-tested three times - I’m a hundred percent homo sapiens.”

Logan pinned her eyes with his and asked directly, “You got any bias against mutants?”

She answered him as directly, “No. You got any bias against witches?”

“I don’t know. Tell me about it over dinner and then I can make an informed decision.”

“I... uh.. I...” Bryony stuttered, before finally adding, “Okay.”

“Tell me what time to pick you up, and where.”

Wednesday

It was well into the early hours and not even close to dawn when Logan felt the coldness enter his bedroom. Snapping instantly awake, he lay silently and tuned every heightened sense into the atmosphere of his room.

The ghostly bastards were back. Through slitted eyes he could see their silhouettes against the moonlight soaking through the window.

Same camo paint, same camo fatigues, same slashed and torn flesh and stench... they stood over him before the one with the shredded face reached out and laid a cold hand on his bared left ankle. Logan felt the coldness seep into his bones, through the metal, and the very air felt heavy and dank around him. Suddenly lunging upward, the claws sang out and he actually felt the metal from one hand sink into the one who touched him. His other claws went for the soldier beside the first, and Logan’s arm sank elbow deep into the wraith before he recoiled. There was nothing there.

Turning to the one who had touched him, he saw nothing - thin air. That soldier was gone again. Rogue’s scream down the hall brought him leaping out of the bed and he literally ran through the remaining invaders who faded into the night.

Without even realizing the process, he was through his door and down the hall and through her door to see one of them standing over Rogue’s bed. She was struggling in his grip, her hair locked in one hand and the other hand pulling her from the bed by her throat.

An inhuman sound escaped Logan’s own throat as the Wolverine took over and he launched his body between Rogue and the soldier, breaking the grip he had on the girl. Feeling solid flesh beneath his hands, Logan sank the claws through the man’s chest and nailed him to the floor. But the man simply faded into nonexistence, leaving splatters of blood on the carpeting.

Panting for breath, he muttered, “This shit’s gotta stop,” then reached an arm to embrace a trembling Rogue.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault...” she mumbled into his shoulder before he hushed her.

“No, it’s not. You didn’t want this, and you didn’t bring it here single-handedly. I was there, too. I didn’t know what would happen, neither did you.” He stroked her hair as she started settling down. Onlookers padded down the hall and left again more quickly as Logan glared at the curious faces in the doorway. Only Ororo and the Professor remained as the mansion settled down again.

“I did not have a chance to consult with Bryony again after our meeting this afternoon. Logan, you were the last to speak with her. Did she have any early conclusions about the events we’re suffering here?” Charles sipped at a cup of tea as the foursome gathered in his office to settle nerves and plan a strategy. Ororo wrapped her long, brown fingers around her own cup and listened.

“We talked about a lot of things, and she laid down some sensible theories, if you can call any of this sensible.” Logan waved off Rogue’s offered cup, and she kept it for herself, settling next to him on the leather sofa. His arm automatically went around her shoulders, and she snuggled into him.

“Did she give you a time frame for taking some kind of action?” Ororo asked, and smothered a yawn behind one hand.

“Soon. She wants to research a few things, and lay out a plan, some sort of ritual. I guess it’s like a reversal of what the kids did -- pulling in the welcome mat, so to speak. Beats me -- she explained a lot of things over dinner, but some of it is stuff I don’t really understand.”

“You had dinner with her?” Rogue asked in as neutral a voice as she could muster.

“Yeah. Had a lot of questions, figured it was easier that way.” His free hand fidgeted slightly, tracing a seam in the leg of his jeans.

Sipping one more time from her cup, Ororo added, “I can tell you this much: she is a friend of mine and she won’t jerk you around. She’s not a flake, if that’s what you’re thinking, Logan. I trust her judgment. I trust her. That’s rare.” Logan noted the almost-warning look on the woman’s face.

“May I suggest we all try once again to get some sleep, and I’ll contact her tomorrow. Speed would seem to be of the essence. These late nights are becoming an unwelcome habit lately.” Charles eased his chair back from the desk and ushered the others from his office.

Walking back toward their rooms, Rogue baited Logan.

“So, you’re dating the ghost-buster now?”

“I don’t think one dinner constitutes ‘dating’. I don’t ‘date’.”

“What do you do with women, then? Entice? Coerce? I doubt you ever had to do that, you’re too good-looking. Charm her? Seduce her over a steak?” Rogue grinned with a hint of a teasing laugh, but her fingers were laced tightly together to stop the slight tremble.

“All of the above, and more,” Logan opened her bedroom door and checked the room thoroughly before walking back into the hallway.

“Did you kiss her?” she asked quickly.

“Are you jealous?” he replied just as quickly.

Hesitating a moment, she confessed, “Yep. Now, you answer my question, and tell the truth or I’ll suck it out of you with my pinkie finger.” She wiggled the small weapon at him, making him chuckle.

“You never asked that about any other woman you’ve seen me with, or heard about. Why this one?”

“Because this one is close, and even I can see how you started glowing when you met her.”

“I think you’re feverish. You’re seein’ things. I’ve never glowed in my life. Well, I think I might have glowed a little after all the radiation on Liberty Island, but only for a few seconds.”

“You’re evading the question,” she reminded him, and he snapped back the answer she didn’t want to hear, but in a neutral voice.

“Yes. Get some sleep. Morning comes early here at Geek Central.”

“Yeah,” Rogue mumbled as she rubbed her hand through her disheveled hair, “sleep ought to be really easy tonight.” She closed her bedroom door, and heard Logan waiting a few moments before he moved away. She slept fitfully until thirty minutes before her alarm went off to start the day, jarring her from the only sound sleep she’d gotten all night.

The morning dragged by as she fought a feeling of inertia from lack of sleep. Lunch brought her and Jubes, Bobby, and Kitty all gathered around a table, heads close together, whispering.

Rogue noted a few glances and whispered comments aimed at them by the other students who kept their distance. “I think we’ve become the black sheep of the outcasts. Nice,” Rogue commented.

“They’re all just freaked, especially the younger kids. They know there was a seance, and ghosts are in the mansion now, and everyone here for the most part remember the soldiers. There hasn’t been a big influx of new students since then, just some.” Jubilee stabbed her icy drink with a straw and added, “Can’t blame them - the whole place has been in an uproar since the night ‘of’, if you know what I mean.”

“You mean, the Night of the Raising of the Military-Bigot Dead,” Kitty added, distractedly poking at a salad with her fork..

“Chill, Kit-Kat. We all know what she means,” huffed Bobby before stuffing a tuna sandwich in his mouth.

“Back off, Frigidaire,” Jubilee sniped before Rogue laid a gloved hand over Jubes’ arm to silence her.

“Look, we’re all under enough pressure here, and we’re all lacking sleep, and we’re tense, and generally in a bad place, so let’s not start shredding each other again. I really cannot handle that now.” Rogue’s eyes swept to the door and on to the hall. She felt her heart sink as she saw Logan leave by the front door with the ghost-buster on his arm. They were going out again, in the middle of the day. It was unprecedented. “I don’t believe it,” she breathed the words, but they were lost in the background murmur of the students.

Apparently, Jubilee missed nothing. The Asian girl switched her hand to cover Rogue’s, giving her best friend a comforting pat before adding, “Look, the gossip around the place is that Miss Ghost-Buster and the Professor talked earlier today, and she’s gonna try to ritually un-do what we did. Rumor is that it’s planned for tonight, to try to get the place settled down again.”

“I suppose Logan could be taking her out to get supplies,” Rogue pondered aloud, then blushed and studied her green beans.

Bryony noted Logan’s nose wrinkle as they stepped into the shop in the East Village. A purple crescent moon emblazoned “Enchantments” hung over the doorway. The scent of herbs and perfumes and incense and other unidentifiable things almost overwhelmed Logan’s heightened senses until he made a mental adjustment and followed the witch into the magical supply shop.

“Ever been in a place like this before?” she asked as he stood looking at a wall of shelving literally filled to overflowing with big glass jars of dried things: leaves, seeds, pods, chunks of resin, sticks, and more of the unidentifiable things.

“Honestly, no. Is all this stuff...” he searched for words, “You know what all this is?” He scratched behind one ear then stuck both hands in his pockets, afraid of bumping into and breaking something in the packed store.

“A lot of it, I do know. I even sell some of my stuff here. I raise organic herbs and I have a section of my garden that’s devoted to magical things: wormwood, mugwort, angelica root, belladonna... they buy from me during harvest season. I also get a big ol’ discount on purchases here.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile before turning to talk to a heavily-tattooed female clerk with a shaved head. He cast a surreptitious glance at the two women who were whispering to each other over a table full of scattered books, scales, and some fancy but pretty much useless daggers. The two women were as different as night and day. The clerk was pure city punk. The woman he came in with was pure country woman. Yet they seemed to speak the same language of magic and spells and things he didn’t want to bother learning. Adamantium claws solved a lot of problems. He’d stick with what he knew.

Logan strolled through the store taking in the strange atmosphere and the weird music playing on a stereo somewhere. Colorful candles in every shape, size, and scent were displayed along another wall, the wax worked into tapers and votives, chunky pillars, and others cast into fanciful shapes: cats, dragons, voluptuous women, stars, skulls, and even erect penises. Checking the label beneath a phallic candle, he noted the word ‘fertility’ scribbled on a little tag. There were more candles with seven knobs formed along the length. Another table held racks of stick incense and he avoided that like it was a table stacked with skunks - the smell was overpowering.

Another table held small racks of tiny bottles all labeled and sealed, with a row of testers mounted to the wooden surface. Some bottles showed floating leaves and bits of flowers in the contents. Yet another table held small baskets with a variety of things, from horseshoe nails to woven reeds in a four-armed cross shape to thorns to feathers. Another wall held bin after bin of colorful stones and quartz points, some encased behind glass in individual boxes. Everywhere else was books and more books. He tuned his ears into the conversation between Bryony and the tattooed clerk.

“How bad is it?” the clerk asked.

“It’s bad. They’re coming every night, and they’re starting to hurt people, physically hurt them. The manifestations are growing stronger and more violent.”

Logan watched the two women pulling jars from the herb shelves while the clerk measured out things into plastic zip-lock bags. One jar held little tins and Bryony picked up a little sealed tin, gave it a vague sniff and recoiled in disgust before adding it to her basket. Before the shopping spree was over, the basket held an assortment of candles, herbs, oil bottles, and a few of the unidentifiable things.

On the street again, they started toward the next block where the Professor’s sedan was tucked into a pay lot. Logan pulled the bag of purchases from Bryony’s hands and stepped to the traffic side of the sidewalk, putting her on his right.

“Ah, chivalry isn’t dead,” she murmured and smiled softly at him. “Others might call it quaint, but I kinda like it.” Her hand laced through his elbow and they strolled through the foot traffic, light for the middle of the afternoon.

“So, you’re really into all this witch shit, huh?” He instantly felt her freeze in place, and knew he’d once again insulted her.

“I thought we’d gotten past all that last night. Apparently I was mistaken,” Bryony’s voice had gone icy and she withdrew her hand from Logan’s arm. He could read the anger in her dark eyes. “If you consider my lifestyle and my religious beliefs to be shit, then once this manifestation issue is settled at the mansion, feel free to never contact me again.” She bit the words off and paced on toward the parking lot, leaving Logan standing there, silently cursing his own ill-chosen words.

“I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” he jogged into place beside her where she waited for the traffic light to change before entering the crosswalk. The light had just turned red, so she was momentarily his captive.

Shoving the sack under one arm and the other hand through his hair, he then reached for her shoulder and tugged at her to look at him. “All I know about witchcraft is the stuff you see and hear on TV and in the papers, and I know ninety percent of that is bullshit. I want to understand it, I think, a little...” His eyes went to the ground, then checked for anyone standing within hearing range, then back to meet hers, “I’m not a religious person. Being a mutant and seeing and living through the things that we do... well, it leaves me pretty skeptical about some kind of all-knowing, all-powerful God living up in the sky. I’m a hard-ass, darlin’... I don’t believe in anything easily.”

“I have been called brittle,” she interjected the confession with a nod of affirmation before he spoke further.

“I believe in what I see. Granted, I’ve seen some pretty wild things over the years. And yeah, I’m a sarcastic son of a bitch, and anti-social, and generally a pain in the ass. I’m sorry if I insulted you. Again.”

And before Bryony could form a response, Logan leaned in and kissed her soundly.

Before she was totally breathless, he pulled away one inch, waiting for a response. She started, “I... you... wow! That was one hell of an apology,” and she returned the kiss, both arms going around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her as his free arm went around her waist. The light turned green, and red again, and people on the sidewalk began applauding and laughing before they parted, she slightly red-faced and he strutting like a rooster as they eventually crossed the intersection together.

The witch had returned to her farmhouse that afternoon to prepare things for the night’s ritual, and Rogue had been invited to help. The two sat at the battered old wooden table in the farmhouse behind the mansion, and Rogue worked along with Bryony as they ground herbs in a mortar, mixed oils, and talked about the seance and the attacks again in intimate detail.

Rogue found herself enjoying the older woman’s company more and more, and experienced a sense of guilt for the jealousy she felt about her and the attention Logan was paying her. The two people seemed really well-suited for each other, but that didn’t change the fact that Rogue craved Logan’s attentions, too. They had a mess on their hands, and only Rogue was aware of it. If this jealousy she was experiencing was part of the pay-back for dabbling in magic without proper training, then the whole situation fiercely sucked.

“Do you enjoy Logan’s company?” Rogue asked in as vague a voice as she could muster. She watched Bryony stop what she was doing and think for a moment before answering.

“Yeah. He kinda jerks my chain sometimes, but he’s definitely... interesting. And really easy on the eyes.”

“You’re preachin’ to the choir, sister,” Rogue grinned at the witch’s laughter, and they went back to their chores.

That night, as golden leaves clattered against the window panes, Rogue showed Bryony exactly where the table seance had happened in the empty room. They pulled the little table back into the room and Bryony began building an altar in the exact same spot. The witch had worn a burgundy velvet shawl against the October chill, but now draped it across one chair back as she started prepping the ritual altar. Rogue sat on one of the chairs they had returned to the room and watched in fascination as the witch went to work to dispel the spirits of the unwelcomed dead.

The tabletop disappeared beneath a black cloth with a white pentacle stitched in the center. White candles were embedded in silver candlesticks, matches close by a little jar candle inside a glass sleeve. The assorted bottles of charged oils were lined up, a censer and charcoal were close by, with a small bottle of powdered incense and a little tin container with its mysterious contents. Reaching for the little tin, Rogue tried to read the writing on the label, but caught a whiff of a truly nasty smell. She started sniffing at the little tin as Bryony warned, “Don’t sniff too close, or it’ll turn your stomach. It’s asafetida.”

Wrinkling her nose, Rogue asked, “Assa-who? What’s that?”

“As-a-fe-ti-da. It’s an intense spice that’s sometimes used sparingly in Indian cooking, but it’s also got a lengthy and potent history of use in banishing magic. It smells awful, to the point of making some people toss their cookies if it gets too strong. I hope we don’t need it.”

“Ugh...” Rogue muttered and daintily put the little tin back in place. “Tell me how I can help.”

“You remember how I taught you to dress a candle this afternoon?” Rogue nodded. “Start with these,” and the witch handed Rogue the candles for the actual banishing: black ones with symbols carved into the sides. “Use the Banishing Oil on the black candles, and the Protection Oil on the red ones, and really crank the energy into them. Then light the little jar candle so we have fire ready all the time.”

As Rogue rubbed the strongly-scented oil into the candles, she spoke another uncomfortable question in a soft voice, “Are we gonna be in any danger during this banishing ritual thing?”

Bryony stopped her preparations and looked the younger woman straight in the eyes. “I don’t know. Since the spirits are already manifesting physically and have tried to attack people, then it’s a possibility. The trick is to have your space prepared and your mind prepared, and meet them head on, a battle of wills.” Bryony gave Rogue a sweet smile, and added, “ I may look like a mild-mannered farm girl, but when it comes to ritual banishing, I’m a ball-buster.”

Rogue laughed aloud at that, and Bryony added, “We’ll still have Logan here, just in case. I don’t think he’s thrilled with the idea of actually inviting the ghosts here so we can give them the boot, but it’s the best bet for success. He’s got a protective streak a mile wide, so he’ll do fine, as long as we don’t have to resort to the asafetida.”

“You know about his heightened senses?” Rogue inquired.

“Yep, he told me about the mutation. It... suits him, somehow, the feral qualities about him. I like that.” Heavy footsteps sounded up the hall, and Rogue almost froze, thinking back to the night of the seance and the soldier’s footsteps in the same hall, but Logan’s voice made her relax.

“So, how’s the witchcraft lesson coming along? You learnin’ anything, kid?” Rogue gritted her teeth at the nickname he’d hung on her again.

“Well, I’m a long way from Graduation Day at Hogwarts, but I’m getting the basics down.”

Logan settled himself on the chair beside Rogue and hung one arm over her shoulders casually. Rogue tried not to glow with some kind of smug triumph. Jealousy is an evil master and she smashed the feelings down again.

“So, is this gonna work?” Logan waved a hand directly at the altar, careful to keep any judgmental comments to himself.

Bryony stared at the arrangement of tools and answered, “Based on what I know of the haunting, it has a good chance of working. If it doesn’t, for whatever reason, we’ll just have to step it up a notch.”

“What is the next notch?” asked Rogue, her curiosity spilling over.

“Professional ‘ghost busters’, if you will - what we call hunters.”

Bryony observed both Rogue and Logan raise their eyebrows in a twin expression for a moment, but otherwise keeping straight faces.

Xavier had chosen to keep the location and timing of the banishing ritual a secret from the student body as a whole, even those who had participated, except for Rogue. He had also arranged to keep the younger children away on a field trip to a local museum during ‘private visitation’ hours. The bus rolled out the driveway taking the laughing youngsters to their off-hours destination, away from the threat of ghostly upheaval in their home, and the more direct threat of dealing with mutant-hating people during regular hours at the museum. The older teens were having a movie-and-pizza night in the rec room farthest from the ritual site.

Within fifteen minutes, the candles on the altar were glowing and two thin streams of herbal smoke curled up from the censer. Logan kept his distance from that, choosing to stand by the door at the ready. Rogue was rolling the banishing candles between her palms again, layering a last charge of oil and energy into the black wax tapers, intended to give their unwelcomed entities the old heave-ho.

Logan had watched and listened in alert silence as the witch had circled the area three times with a dagger in hand, chanting a kind of poem about surrounding the area with a some kind of circle of power. On her third sweep around the room he thought he almost felt the wave of tingling energy pass over his skin. He scratched one ear and thought to himself that either he was imagining it or maybe she really did know what she was doing.

More candles were lighted on the altar -- little colored candles -- as Bryony called the elemental quarters to attend. That was something he knew a little about. He had spent time with a shaman woman a few years ago and had read from her books about the four winds being aligned with the four elements of life: air, fire, water, and earth. It made sense. He’d also read into the Chinese concept of a fifth element of metal, but on contemplating the existence of the adamantium on his own bones, and the presence of the claws, he decided there was nothing natural about that, and dismissed the theory of a fifth element.

Water and salt were spattered around the room, a then a white candle and the censer were carried around and Logan’s attention focused elsewhere, her spoken words an unheeded mantra in his subconscious as he monitored the sounds outside the room, tensing again for any intrusion on any level. The witch was calling names now that he did not recognize, a smattering of words in another language, possibly Greek or Gaelic or Hindi - he wasn’t sure. He heard nothing outside the room. Her chanting changed pace again, and he refocused with a surprise to see her pouring something into a small iron pot, then Rogue pricked her finger and squeezed a drop of blood into the pot, too. Opening his mouth to protest, he stifled himself as Bryony followed suit, then watched in fascination as Rogue started rolling the black candles between her blood-tinged palms again. The scents of wax and herbs and oils and blood and salt and the two women were becoming almost hypnotic to his heightened senses, lulling him into a place he had rarely been, a place that felt between reality and whatever lay beyond, like twilight sleep. Then Logan shook himself slightly to again focus on his duties as guardian of the two women. The witch was speaking in a commanding voice now, and it roused his attention even more.

“You came for blood. Here is blood! You came to take hostages. Here is one you pursued! You came on your commander’s orders to invade this home. Now I command you to come to this center, this heart of the home, this place of power! Come here now!”

Rogue seemed almost too intent on the black tapers rolling between her palms, the heat from her working hands starting to soften the wax. The carved tapers bent slightly as the incised runes began re-blending with surface. She stabbed each black candle into it’s holder and waited. Logan noted how calm and yet intense Rogue’s demeanor seemed. Either she was naturally as solid as a rock under these bizarre conditions, or Bryony had done her job well and given the young mutant woman a thorough introduction to the working of magic in a very short time.

Logan guessed both theories were correct.

“Come! Come here and finish what you started. You are soldiers. You have your orders. You have a mission. Finish it!” Logan silently prayed they wouldn’t appear or obey the witch. It was getting unnerving, and a general pain in the ass. With a soft movement of air over his skin, he felt coldness enter the room from nowhere in particular. Gooseflesh stood out on his forearms and his feral senses kicked into high gear, bristling and inhaling sharply. As he exhaled through slightly bared teeth, steam appeared before him. His eyes narrowed into gold and the claws slithered down, gleaming in the candlelight.

They were coming.

Bryony grabbed a piece of parchment paper she had prepared earlier, and held it nearby a candle flame, ready to ignite. “Appear here before me, NOW!” she commanded, and one finger pointed at the floor in front of her. Before Rogue could gasp a breath, a camouflage-garbed man stood staring down at the witch. Logan tensed to leap forward, but held himself in check when Rogue held a hand toward him, indicating he should wait.

“Call your comrades. Gather your men - you have scattered. Call them all here, now,” Bryony spoke the words in calm, demanding meter, intending to overpower the specter by willpower alone. The paper in her fingers turned a golden hue at the corner nearest the flame. It was starting to char. “Bring them now!” she shouted, and more ghostly men appeared in the room, more than Rogue had anticipated. There were shadowy figures all around them, all focused on the witch.

Then hell broke loose as one manifested solidly enough to grab Rogue by the hair and drag her to the floor. Logan threw himself forward and slashed the claws through the soldier’s head. He felt a slight resistance, like walking through thick mud, but no blood or brains came forth. The soldier was partly flesh, partly energy, not in this world or the next entirely. Shadows threaded around him as he whirled to see what had happened to the contest of wills between the ghost and the witch.

“You are banished!” Bryony was yelling as the paper fired, the flames licking closer to her fingertips as she waved the smoke toward the soldier in front of her. “You and your men are finished. You are defeated! You are dead! DEAD! You no longer belong here, in this house, in this realm. Move on, let go, depart from this life and MOVE ON!” She threw the flaming remnant into the iron pot and the contents ignited with a burst, tongues of flame licking above the tabletop.

The shade who had grabbed Rogue faded, as did most of the shadow soldiers, save for three who had become solid flesh. The one standing before Bryony seemed to be the most solid and grounded in this earthly realm, and he reached for the witch, grabbing her throat and throwing her against a wall, where she fell to the floor. The second soldier turned to Logan and brought a long knife toward him in a back-handed slash that took Logan through the ribs, bringing blood as the claws once again went through semi-solid flesh. Soldier number two and the one who had grabbed Rogue had both faded instantly on contact with Logan’s claws, leaving only the one standing by the altar.

With both fists clenched and the fingers laced, the remaining soldier brought his too-solid fists down into the center of the altar and smashed the table to the floor, scattering everything in chaos: candles went out, glass broke, hot liquid splashed as the flames died down in the unnaturally cold air.

With a roar of rage, Logan buried both sets of claws into the soldier’s chest, and was shocked to see the man stand solidly. With six adamantium claws buried through his vital organs, the soldier stared Logan straight in the eyes, eyes that Logan finally recognized. He’d repeated this scene once before, in the kitchen on the night of Stryker’s raid. This soldier was the one who had opened machine gun fire on Bobby Drake, before Logan had nailed him to the refrigerator door with the claws.

“It won’t work again,” the words were part air, part ice, and Logan almost recoiled at the breath of the grave that flowed toward him. “You can’t kill a dead man, not again.” Logan felt the cold seep into his body where the soldier’s hands grasped him. His bones started to hurt, the metal inside him chilling. He tried to drag the claws down through the dead man’s torso, but the effort was too much. Both men sank to their knees, still locked together on the claws, hands grasping for any means to hurt the other.

Only the little pot candle remained burning, and crawling toward one of the black rune-carved candles, Rogue ignited it and held the flame to the soldier’s pant leg, igniting his trousers. Eerie blue fire seemed to envelope the ghost in moments. Instantly his head snapped around and she saw his eyes grow wide. Logan withdrew the claws and threw himself away from the fiery ghost, who began to writhe and fade in the flickering light.

The room sank into darkness. As all eyes adjusted to the thin moonlight entering the windows, Logan edged to Rogue’s side. “You okay, kid?” Rogue had never heard that kind of uncertainty in Logan’s voice. She knew he was thoroughly unnerved.

“I’m okay, just a little shaken up. I’ll get some lights on. See about Bryony. She may be hurt.” Rogue rose from the floor on shaky legs to avoid any broken glass, and stepped carefully to the light switch on the wall. Logan was already working his way toward the opposite wall where Bryony had crumpled after being thrown by the departed soldier.

As the lights came on, Logan was already searching the witch’s eyes for a response. “Are you hurt?”

“Umh.... I don’t think so...” she mumbled, fingers rubbing her throat where a ring of bruises were starting to show. “I think maybe my arm is...” she brushed her hand down around her elbow and came up with bloody fingers. Logan started to help her rise and then checked himself. There was a large shard of broken glass protruding from her arm.

“Rogue, make sure all the fire is out. Get help and lock this room off until we can come back here and clean up. I’m taking her to Med Lab. Do not stay here alone.” Scooping the woman into his arms, he marched quickly out the door and toward the elevators. As the elevator whisked them to the lower levels, he gazed directly into her brown eyes.

“How you doing?” He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Well, I know one thing for sure now,” she answered before grimacing as pain apparently raced through her.

“What?” Logan pressed her for an answer, wanting to keep her distracted from the pain.

“I’m in over my head. They’re strong. We need hunters.”

“Agreed. HANK! Get in here now!” Logan shouted as he placed the woman gently on a table. Hank wandered into the room, gasped, and leaped into action.

An hour later, Bryony was released from Hank’s care with five stitches in a freshly-cleaned wound, and no signs of concussion. Only bruises remained where the soldier had grabbed her throat. Rogue had secured the area and the room, and returned Bryony’s red shawl to her, then went to her own dorm room to concentrate on some reading and settle her nerves before bed.

Sitting at the small kitchen table, Bryony sipped a cup of hot tea and collected her own nerves while Logan double-checked on Rogue and the remains of the failed ritual. All was quiet, so he returned to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, sitting across the table from the dark-haired woman. It was nearing 2 am.

Their eyes held each other for several moments before Logan broke the silence and asked, “Do you have any reason to go back home tonight? Anyone waiting for you, or animals to take care of, anything like that?”

“Nope,” she said over her cup.

“Wanna stay here... just for safety? Or convenience? Or... company?” He gave her a look that was hard to interpret.

“I... I guess that would work,” she answered hesitantly. “Is there a place I can get some sleep? I don’t know how much room there is here, with so many students in residence.”

Sipping the beer and setting the bottle quietly on the table, he commented, “My room is quiet. And the bed is a double...”

Many moments passed before she quietly spoke, “Okay. But I gotta make a call first.”

“This late?” Logan asked, showing no emotion.

“The hunters,” she answered. “It might take them a day or two to get here, depending on where they are and what they’re involved in at the moment.”

“Right,” he acknowledged, handing her his cell phone, but she hesitated.

“I don’t remember the number. I’ll need to go home and get my book. Unless there’s a computer here that I can access my e-mail and pull it from the contacts?”

“In the library. Come on, I’ll show you...” he reached for her hand and led her from the room.

A few minutes later he eavesdropped discretely as she talked to a sleepy-voice man who said ‘they’ were in Ohio, and could be there the next evening. Giving the address and a few basic directions, she closed the call and handed the cell back to Logan.

“All arranged - they’ll be here tomorrow, before sundown.”

“I heard.”

A sly smile drifted across her mouth, “Oh, yeah - the hearing thing. You really are amazing.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured as he pulled her closer and drifted lips across her ear lobe.

Thursday

Rogue stumbled from her bed the next morning, groggy and tired after a short, tense night’s sleep. Checking her cell to make sure what day it was and whether she needed to run to class, she gave thanks for a free day and climbed into a warm shower, anxious to know how everyone else had fared the night. Wrapping a towel hastily around her dripping hair, she threw on sweats and socks and padded down the hall, up the stairs, and toward Logan’s door.

Knowing he would hear her or smell her by now, she didn’t bother knocking as usual, but grabbed the knob and gently turned, but it was locked.

He never locked his door.

Raising her hand to knock, she hesitated, knowing he had been up even later than she. Maybe he was still asleep. Crouching to press one eye to the keyhole, she peered through the tiny opening for any sign of movement within. A splash of red caught her eye.

It was Bryony’s red shawl, thrown across one corner of the bed, which showed unmoving shapes beneath the blankets. Rogue had carried that shawl down to the Med Lab last night to return to its owner. The witch had spent the night in Logan’s room, apparently in Logan’s bed.

Feeling shaky and cold, Rogue backed away from the keyhole, unsure what to do, and not wanting to be discovered snooping. Backing softly away from the locked door, she eventually ran back to her room, finished dressing, and took one of the mansion’s cars for the drive into town with the excuse of wanting a diner breakfast. Knowing something was wrong, Jubilee inserted herself behind the sedan’s wheel forcibly, knowing Rogue was stressed.

“I’m driving. You name the place, we eat.”

“I don’t care, just anywhere away from here,” Rogue groused.

“Are you that bored with the grub here, or are the ghosts ruining your morning pancake experience?”

“Neither. Just drive,” she bit off. They had barely left the ground’s main gate when Jubilee instantly wheeled the car to the berm and turned off the engine. “Hey! If you’re not gonna drive this thing, them move your ass over and I’ll drive.”

“No way, chica. Something has you fired up and I want you to spill it. What’s wrong?” Jubilee pulled the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them, then threw the child lock, indicating her intentions were serious.

“You know I can just touch you and take the keys while you’re out cold...” muttered Rogue.

“And I can melt you fast to the upholstery before you can get one glove off. Now spill. What’s eating you this morning?”

“Logan,” Rogue whispered.

“Coulda figured that; so what has the big lug done now?” Jubes turned toward Rogue and leaned her shoulder against the seat. “What did he say, do, not do, etc., to hurt you? I need to know the details before I chew his ass for it. It’s more believable that way. I like to be taken seriously when I’m in Mama Bear mode.”

Wiping away a single tear, Rogue steeled herself and stated, “You’re not my mama, and Logan didn’t ‘do’ anything ‘to’ me. He’s just being Logan. It’s my problem, not his.”

“Okay,” Jubes breathed, “then what is ‘your’ problem with Logan?”

Knowing that avoidance was useless when Jubes was on the information-seeking trail, Rogue finally confessed, “I saw him with another woman. I know he’s a rounder, but I never had to see it before.”

“You say ‘another woman’ like he’s cheating on you. Is there something between you two that I wasn’t aware of? Because last time I looked, you were platonic friends. Granted, there’s a definite steamy attraction there, and who could blame either of you? You’re both perfect specimens of smoking hottiness, so an attraction is just natural.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, but I never had to see him being ‘intimate’ with someone before, and it threw me for a loop.”

Jubes gasped, “You actually saw them in the act? In flagrante? Coital activity and slippers-to-the-ceiling and everything?”

“No, no... not in the physical act. Just asleep in the same bed, which says enough.” Rogue drew a deep breath, and continued, “I know I’m being an idiot. One minute Logan flirts with me, then he’s sleeping with someone. He’s just a big horny slut, and I know that. It’s his nature. He’s a high-sex-drive loner who’s not apt to settle down for the next two or three centuries, so what chance do I stand with him sexually? None. Zip. I’m just a big naive dork.”

“No, you are not. You want him. Oh hell, I want him, Kitty wants him, probably Scott wants him, too, and I wouldn’t put it past Xavier, though I am so not going there mentally, even if they are likely of the same generation. Face it, Roguey; our big bad Wolverine’s just a sex magnet on legs. There’s nothing wrong with wanting him.”

“Poison skin is wrong with that! I can’t do anything worthwhile to him, and he isn’t likely to settle down with a virtual nun. In the meanwhile, he’s getting his rocks off with someone I know and LIKE, and I’m watching from a distance, and eating myself up from the inside over it.”

“Who is she?” Jubes almost shouted in fervent curiosity. “One of us? A student?!?”

“Noooo,” Rogue chided her. “I’m not saying. I stumbled across them asleep together, and it’s private. You don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘private’, so nopers, I’m not telling.

“It’s the ghost buster, isn’t it?” Jubes drummed her fingers quickly on the steering wheel as Rogue threw up her hands in resignation.

“Just drive. I’m hungry.”

Between a long, late breakfast and several hours of medicinal shopping, it was close to sundown when they returned toward the mansion grounds. Traffic was light as they pulled into the turn lane at the stop sign on the country road leading to the grounds. While they waited for traffic to clear, an old black car pulled alongside Rogue’s passenger side window, and the guy behind the wheel yelled something at her over the rumble of a loud stereo that was pumping out Metallica.

“Ignore him - he’s just hitting on you,” Jubes said, then checked herself. “Wait a minute! That’s what we need right now. Talk to the man, besides look at him. He’s a gorgeous hunk’o man.”

“I’m not picking up guys on the highway now just because...” But Jubilee had already rolled down the window from the master control on the driver’s side.

Shouting across Rogue, Jubilee yelled, “Turn it down!” at the guy in the car, noting a second guy, possibly even hotter than the driver, was in the other seat. Elbowing Rogue discretely, she mouthed ‘score!’.

The music lowered slightly, and Rogue did turn to regard the driver in the car beside them. He was late twenties, short brown hair, full lips, somewhere between handsome and pulchritudinous. The other man was darker, seemed younger and a little uncomfortable with the yelling, and instantly he reached again for the volume control. The music faded down slightly and the conversation continued at a reasonable level.

“Ladies,” the driver gleamed a smile at them, “can you tell me where Greymalkin Lane is? Been up and down this road a couple of times now, and there’s no sign with that name on it.” He was oozing charm with his arm casually draped across the gigantic steering wheel of the dinosaur he was driving. He was definitely flirting with them, and Rogue knew it. It made her feel warm and gooey when his eyes met hers, since he wasn’t being stupid about it, and saying stupid things. A bright smile was all it took sometimes. And that twinkle in hazel eyes...

Hazel eyes? She looked him squarely in the face. Yep, hazel eyes. And wasn’t that just too much of a coincidence? Feeling Jubes poke her in the ribs again, Rogue took the cue and spoke up.

“We’re about to turn onto Greymalkin. The road sign was run over by a truck last week and the county crew hasn’t replaced it yet. It’s in the bushes somewhere in pieces.”

Hazel Man smiled at her again, and asked, “Is there a school on that road? We’re trying to find...” he fumbled through his pockets for something, but Rogue took the initiative.

“Who are you looking for?”

The other guy in the car spoke across the driver, adding, “Professor Charles Xavier. His school is the one we’re looking for. Do you know it?”

“Know it?” Jubes piped up, “That’s where we’re going. Who should I say is calling?”

This time it was Rogue’s turn to elbow Jubes. They weren’t supposed to bring people onto the school grounds unannounced and unattended, for security reasons.

“I’m Dean,” he hooked a thumb toward the passenger in the car. “This is my brother Sam. Our father was a friend of the Professor’s. We’re here on business. It’s been years since we’ve been out here, and we’ve sort of forgotten the lay of the land. Thanks for your help. See ya there.” And he threw a very decided wink and a grin at Rogue before cranking the wheel over and cutting in front of their car, throwing gravel as they blasted down the side road.

“He’s a pistol,” commented Jubes. “I want the other one. You can have the driver.”

“Jubilee!” Rogue chided her friend, then laughed for the first time that day as they followed the black car toward the school’s main gate. The two men had stopped at the gate and apparently been buzzed through by the time Jubilee and Rogue made the turn into direct view.

Rogue grimaced as the sedan rolled up the driveway in time for her to see the two men exit the black car and immediately meet with the witch, sweeping her into a 3-person, 6-armed hug that took Bryony off her feet as the two brothers swung her around. Apparently they were close friends.

Apparently she was friends with every hot man in the county.

Rogue checked her thoughts and drew a deep breath, mentally scolding herself for thinking nastiness about the woman she liked so well.

Logan descended the steps halfway, standing quietly but well above and obviously glaring at the two strangers, being his usual suspicious, territorial self. Rogue craned her head to see every last thing as Jubilee drove the car around to the back of the grounds and the entrance to the garage. Jubes reached out and patted Rogue’s cheek over her hair, forcing her to look away from the cluster of adults. Pulling into the parking slot, Jubilee quietly stated, “Don’t sweat it, chica. You know he’s not likely to settle down with anyone, anywhere, for a long, long time. He’s not the marrying kind. And as long as he isn’t married, you can’t be called a home-wrecker if you go after him with the intent to seduce.”

“He likes her,” Rogue breathed, then sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt, resigned to ride out the whole thing with some dignity intact. Then she shot Jubes a critical glance.

“Intent to seduce? You’ve been watching ‘Boston Legal’ re-runs again, haven’t you?”

“What can I say? Lawyers are hot. It’s the designer suits and silk ties, and the killer dialogue. Gotta love ‘em. Alan Shore may be a pudgy little Pillsbury dough-boy, but when he’s in full lawyer mode and ripping people to shreds with his rapier tongue, he’s lethally hot. Come on, let’s go see the hot young men in the foyer.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“That, and what kind of convertible I want next summer.”

Rogue and Jubilee strolled into the great entrance hall of the mansion, and there was a cluster of people all shaking hands and talking quietly among themselves. Rogue noted the two men from the car, the witch, a stand-offish Logan, and the Professor, and also a few curious students were lingering on the upper floors by the stairs. One glare from Logan sent them scurrying.

Rogue overheard the one called Dean talking to the Professor as she approached.

“Can you get all the kids out for at least one night? It’d be safer. I’m not used to working in a house full of kids. That could get messy.”

“I can,” the Professor commented. “I’ve been working on the logistics all day, so it will take approximately an hour to execute. In the meanwhile, please make yourselves at home. You have free run of the mansion, from the ground floor up. The manifestations have been limited to the upper floors only thus far, so I doubt that you’ll need access to the lower levels. You’ll need to see Logan or myself for security clearance there.”

“We’re only interested in the places where the manifestations have happened,” commented the taller, darker-haired man called Sam. “If we need to go anywhere else, we’ll be very specific and you can have someone escort us, if it will help.”

Jubilee again poked Rogue in the side and whispered, “I so want that one. He’s one long, lean slab of muscle.” Jubes cocked her head to one side and tossed her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “Maybe he likes hot young Asian chicks.”

Rogue rolled her eyes and stepped forward to join the conversation. After being introduced to Sam and Dean formally, she openly admitted her involvement in the seance, knowing another lengthy question and answer session would follow. She would bend over backwards and yodel if it would help get the ghosts out of the mansion quicker.

An hour and three empty coffee and tea pots later, the two hunters were up to speed on everything that had happened. The sun had gone down and the children had been evacuated to a few safe houses for the night. Dean had asked Rogue to step aside with him while others started prepping for whatever the hunters intended to do.

“So far we’ve got everything we need to know,” the hunter began, “but there are a few other details that got left out.” He looked her straight in the eyes, all business, no sass this time, and Rogue found herself liking this side of him even more than the shameless flirt. This was a man she could take seriously, and he engendered a sense of safety in her that she hadn’t felt for many days.

Dean continued, “I understand that this place was in chaos after the raid where these guys died. I need to know some more details, stuff that won’t be easy to talk about, but you were here. I need eyewitness knowledge. Can you talk about it?”

“Yeah,” she spoke softly. “I was in the middle of it all. I even saw some of them die, some of the ones who are haunting here now.”

“Okay, that’s a good place to start. How did they die?”

Rogue froze in a moment of silence, debating what to tell the hunter. That Logan had cut the soldiers down in bloody, brutal rakes of his claws? That he had stabbed and shredded through their hearts and lungs, hacked through their faces and bellies and left one or two of them in dismembered pieces? She dodged the gory details and answered, “Our security people defended the students who hadn’t been able to escape the building yet. There was shooting by the soldiers... and some stabbings. I didn’t see it all, just some of it.”

Dean had her pinned with his eyes, not letting her dwell too much on one particular thing. “What else happened? How many were there?”

“I was running for my life, and I don’t know everything. We were running through the halls, and twice the soldiers almost had us, but Logan got there in time to stop them. They were using drugged darts and machine guns and knives. Four of them had us pinned in the foyer, but Logan stopped them. Some of them shot at us and one set off an explosive, but we’d already ran through an escape hatch. It was chaos, all a blur...” Rogue heard her voice grow weaker and fought back tears at the memories.

“It’s okay, don’t let all this freak you...” Dean started to reach for her cheek to stroke a hand down her face in a comforting gesture, but Rogue recoiled from the touch. He instantly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s my mutation,” she explained. “My skin is lethal. If you touch me, bare skin to bare skin, my mutation will drain your strength, and maybe kill you within a few seconds.”

“Woah,” Dean breathed. “That’s got to suck, pardon the bad pun.”

Rogue laughed nervously and started relaxing again, “Yeah, it does, and you wouldn’t believe the vampire jokes I get because of it.” She noted Jubilee and Sam closing in on where they were standing. Nodding toward the two approaching people, Dean turned and looked, then returned his attention to Rogue.

“I’ve seen a few mutations in my time, but that’s a new one on me. Bet it makes a late night make-out session sort of a challenge.” He twinkled the hazel eyes at her again with a wicked smile.

“It makes it impossible,” she admitted and knew she was blushing from the heat in her face.

“Nah, a real man lives for a challenge like that,” Dean whispered to her through her hair, and this time she did not pull back. Meeting eyes again, he gave her a flirting wiggle of the eyebrows before backing away a respectable distance. He was so like Logan, she thought; so cocky, so confident, too damned sexy to be legal, so... so... tempting. Rogue sighed deeply to herself and refocused just in time to see Logan glaring at the younger man who stood so close by her.

Logan hadn’t shown any expressions other than mistrust and contained hostility since the two hunters had arrived, and he had treated them in a barely civil manner. Now he was practically simmering with disapproval and contempt. Rogue cast him a soothing smile and hoped the two men didn’t tangle before the job got done. They needed the hunters badly.

Jubilee and Sam came to stand in a cluster with Dean and Rogue, and Logan kept a distance that Rogue knew was nowhere near out of hearing range for his sensitive ears. He could easily hear every word they spoke. Jubilee’s voice drew her attention back.

“It’s not often we meet non-mutants who are friendly and even knowledgeable about this place. You surprise me.” She ran a hand down Sam’s arm and gave a gentle squeeze over the biceps. “Nice,” she purred and Rogue saw Sam blush just a little, but smile.

“Well,” Dean commented, “our daddy raised us right, I guess. Mutations are just a part of nature, like being freakishly tall, or having a Neanderthal uni-brow.” He glanced at his younger, taller brother, who didn’t hesitate in commenting on his own observations.

“What Dean says is true. It’s like being awkwardly short, or bow-legged enough to walk straddle of a fire hydrant. It’s just the way we’re born.” Sam smiled radiantly at his shorter brother.

“Wow, I can tell you two are brothers, sure enough,” Jubilee said. “I hope you’re as good at ghost-busting as you are at bickering.”

“We’re better,” Dean assured her. “There’s still one thing we need to know. Where are the bodies of the dead soldiers?”

Jubilee stared at Rogue, who turned and stared at Logan, who just shrugged his shoulders. He had been listening; Rogue had known it. And if anyone knew where the bodies were buried, it would have been Logan. Saying a few words to Bryony where they’d been standing, she and Logan walked to Rogue’s side to join the conversation.

“We don’t know where the bodies are,” Logan said. “When we got back into the mansion there was nothing left of them, not even shell casings or a bootlace, only some bloodstains. Apparently the strike team was very thorough in clean-up. We don’t know who they were, or where the bodies were taken, or who took them, though it’s a safe assumption that their commanding officer arranged a thorough sweep before we had a chance to get back here.”

“That is not good,” Dean commented. “If we knew where the bodies were, getting rid of the ghosts becomes really easy. Salt ‘em and burn ‘em, and grab an early supper. If they were special ops military, they could be anywhere, including already cremated.”

“Which would mean,” added Sam, “that this is more than just a routine haunting. Logan, do you remember exactly how many soldiers died here, and how? The others seemed a little vague on that, even confused on some points.”

Logan hesitated a few seconds before answering levelly, “I don’t know exactly how many there were, but I’d say roughly ten. One in the kitchen, four in the halls, four in the foyer, and maybe one or two more that I don’t recall.”

“You took them all out?” Sam asked with a degree of respect in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Single-handedly?” Dean asked, showing no emotion.

“Yeah.”

“Bet you’re packing right now,” Dean added with a slight smirk. Logan matched the smirk, and the claws slithered down from his hands, gleaming and wicked.

“Yeah. I’m packin’ 24-7-365.”

Rogue noted Sam’s eyes go wide as dinner plates before asking, “You took them all out in hand-to-hand combat?”

“It was more like claws-to-thorax combat,” Logan added laconically, “except for the ones with shredded faces and intestines.” Rogue noticed Bryony press her hand to the side of her own face and blink several times, as if trying to mentally steady herself, and Rogue wondered if Logan had told the witch about his claws before he’d slept with her. If not, she’d handled that revelation like a trooper.

Damn her. Again, Rogue forced down the jealousy and focused on the conversation.

The two brothers looked at each other and said simultaneously, “Dude, are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” And then, “Yep - exorcism.”

“Okay, you two are just freaky,” Jubes lipped in. “What can I do to help?”

Dean snapped into business mode immediately, “You help Sam bring what we need from the car. Rogue, can you lay hands on anything that the dead guys touched, or wore, or left behind? Anything at all, even a wisp of hair or a piece of blood-stained carpet? Anything with a little of their DNA on it?”

Rogue thought for a few moments, then admitted, “I don’t think there’s anything left. The soldiers removed everything, and the stained carpeting has been replaced and disposed of, I’m sure.”

Logan confirmed that, “Yeah, everything has been cleaned and removed. There’s nothing of them left here.”

“No, wait!” Rogue shouted. “The one who manifested in my bathroom splattered blood on me, and the gown maybe is still in the trash can in my room. I’ll go see if it’s been tossed yet or not,” and she ran for the stairs. Sam and Jubilee exited to retrieve the needed tools from the car, leaving Dean and Logan standing awkwardly and alone in the foyer.

“So,” Dean began, thumbs hooking into his belt and leaning slightly backwards so he wasn’t as obvious in having to look up into Logan’s face, “you took out ten special ops-trained soldiers single-handedly. Impressive.”

“I”m the best there is at what I do,” Logan smirked down at the smaller man, scenting him without trying to hide it. It took an alpha to know an alpha, and in spite of the initial sense of hostility Logan experienced when he’d seen Dean flirting with Marie, he had an instinct that the younger man knew what he was doing and could be trusted with the safety of the school.

“Those claws - that’s not a mutation, right?”

“Right.”

“Interesting...”

“Leave Rogue alone.” Logan had a knack for cutting to the chase.

“Why? I didn’t see a ring on her finger.” Dean smothered a fake yawn and rocked back on his heels a few times.

“She’s been through a lot lately and she doesn’t need some guy jerking her chain, then hitting the road.”

“Who are you, her father?” Dean noticed the slight twitch in Logan’s right eye and knew he’d hit a sore spot.

“I’m her friend and a little more, so don’t mess with her. She’s somethin’ special to me, and she doesn’t need any more complications in her life right now. Just back the hell off and focus on the job.”

“I don’t need any self-appointed bad-ass telling me how to do my job,” Dean poked a finger into Logan’s chest as he continued, “since you’ve done such a bang-up job so far with the haunting.”

Logan had gathered a handful of the front of Dean’s shirt by that time and was starting to lift the younger man up onto his toes when Rogue came bounding down the stairs with the bloody gown clutched in her hands. “I found it! Now what do we....” she trailed off, seeing the obviously hostile posturing of the two men before her.

“Well now, fellas, shall I go fetch my tape measure and we can settle this cockfight quickly?” Both men removed their hands from the other and stepped one pace backward, still glaring at each other. “Good boys,” breathed Rogue. “Now let’s all try to make nice long enough to kick some ghost-ass outta this place.”

Within thirty minutes the seance room had been swept again with holy water and incense as Bryony and Rogue did the prep work for the exorcism. Logan noted the sawed-off double-barrel shotgun that Dean had laid on the table and also noted the smell of salt strong alongside the smell of gunpowder. Sam had been flipping through a worn book until he’d marked one page and laid the book face down on the table beside the salt-loaded shotgun.

Jubilee had placed a ring of white candles around the perimeter of the original circle where the ghosts had been invited into the mansion. Then Bryony placed a good-sized metal pot on a couple of bricks, lit several small blocks of charcoal inside, and laid a handful of small tinder and some loose herbs in piles on the side, next to Rogue’s bloodied gown.

“Ladies, maybe you should find a better place to be right now,” Dean commented as he and his brother started lighting the candles in the circle. Rogue noted Logan’s hand reaching for the doorknob, but she stopped him with a gloved touch.

“I’m staying. I’ve been through every step of this whole disaster, so I’m in it to the bloody end.”

“Bloody ends are what we don’t need, and you’re not gonna be here in the middle of it, darlin’,” Logan murmured as he pushed out of her grasp and opened the door. “Out.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m not in the mood for a lover’s spat, so I’m leaving, at least,” groused Jubilee before tossing a last look at Sam. “Try not to get yourself killed before I have a chance to do something with you that I might regret later.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Sam grinned as he lit the last candle.

“Definitely,” Jubilee smiled and blew him a kiss before exiting the open door.

“Logan’s right,” commented Dean, focusing on Rogue. “You should get out of here now, before the shit hits the fan. If I have to shoot at these bastards, I don’t want civilians in the line of fire. I’ve taken a load of rock salt before, and it hurts like hell even if it won’t kill a human. Out.”

Logan noted Rogue’s mouth open, then shut, her shoulders shrug, and she followed Jubilee out the door, leaving Bryony the only woman in the room.

Logan started to nod her toward the door, but she shook her head no, and stood her ground, adding, “I’m not a ‘civilian’ in that sense.”

Walking toward her, Logan ran a hand around the back of her neck and eased her around to look into his eyes. “I don’t want you hurt in this. Go with the girls and make sure they’re safe, in case this room doesn’t hold ‘them’.” He nodded toward the circle where it was hoped the ghosts would manifest and be trapped. “I’m the one they want, so you have no place here, putting yourself at risk.”

“He’s right,” Sam added. “Out is safer than in, this time.” Dean nodded his agreement.

“Okay,” Bryony threw up her hands, planted a quick kiss on Logan’s lips, and pulled the door shut behind her. The three females left the hallway and moved toward the foyer, in case any unexpected visitors might try to enter the mansion, accidentally interrupting the exorcism rite.

It was only a few minutes until the women could hear shouting, cursing, rapid-fire Latin chanting, and the deep, distinctive growl that could only be Logan. They all waited, tense and grasping each other’s hands, while the sounds drifted from above.

Within the room, Dean had summoned the unwanted ghosts into the circle by burning some of the drawing herbs and a piece of the bloody gown in the metal bowl, while using Logan’s presence to taunt the intruders. They had come for mutants, and here was a mutant for them to take revenge upon, their killer.

Before the ritual could be completed, a cold wind rose in the room and began fluttering the candles, rising strongly and threatening to overturn the items on the table. Sam made a grab for the incantation book just as it fluttered from the table and the page he’d marked was lost. Scrambling for the correct page again in the near darkness, he didn’t see the commanding officer of the ghostly visitors stride through a darkened spot in the circle and reach for Logan, whose claws snaked out and connected with the officer’s chest, leaving the two locked together in a fearful grasp.

Logan felt his claws sink into the semi-manifested form, then the dreadful cold began seeping into him through the metal claws, eventually stealing up his arms and into his chest. He fought the dragging sensation while noticing other shadows forming inside the circle. The soldiers were following their commander and manifesting inside the ring of guttering candles, what few remained alight.

Dean grabbed the shotgun from the table and blasted two wraiths who were reaching for Sam as he desperately sought the proper page, then with a quick glance at his brother, Sam started the thread of Latin that would banish the spirits, hopefully forever.

Logan felt himself grow colder and colder inside his body, an unnatural cold that brought him almost to the brink of panic. He began ripping his claws down through the still partly-unformed body of the officer, but it seemed to have no effect on the ghost. The semi-solid right hand of the spirit then merged with Logan’s own flesh, and the hand sank into Logan’s chest and touched his beating heart, draining even more heat and energy from him, leaving Logan gasping and shaking.

The shades in the circle began flickering out of existence as Sam poured his energy into the incantation, the Latin pouring glibly from his tongue, and Dean turned the reloaded shotgun and the last rock salt-loaded shell on the officer, hesitating to fire until the last moment, not knowing what effect a salt blast would have on the two men, one dead and one very much alive, locked together in a deathly grapple.

Sam spoke the last lines of the incantation, and the ghostly officer flickered momentarily, then released his grip on Logan’s heart who went to his knees. The ghost turned toward Dean, and the older brother raised the remaining shreds of the bloody gown before the ghost’s face.

“This is your blood, the last bit of you left on the face of this earth. You are banished!” and Dean threw the gown into the fire pot with tinder and herbs and salt, and the mixture combusted, throwing smoke and sparks into the air as the blood was burned away.

Flickering again in the dancing light of the flames, the soldier seemed to gasp a moist breath, reached a faltering hand toward Logan again, who was just starting to climb to his feet, and before the ghost could once again make contact with the living, Dean raised the shotgun and fired point blank at the drained spirit, splattering the spirit into shreds of non-existence as tongues of black flame came roaring up from the floor and dissolved what little was left of the wraith-form.

He was gone.

They were all gone.

Banished.

Logan gasped a few breaths and tried to settle himself, thinking that he’d never felt so cold in his life. Sam was shaking slightly as he extinguished the ring of candles. Dean was locked down tight, watching every corner of the room to make sure nothing was moving but the three of them, then opened the bedroom window to let the smoke start to clear.

The silence from above alerted the three women in the foyer, and Rogue instinctively started toward the stairs, but Bryony caught her arm and held her back, saying, “Trust them. They’re the best hunters I’ve ever known. It’ll be all right.”

Rogue hugged herself and nodded, then stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs for any sign that the banishing was over. Jubilee had remained uncharacteristically silent through the whole experience.

After a few minutes’ time had crawled past, all three men appeared at the top of the stairs. “Everything all right down there?” Dean asked, his voice confident, his natural cockiness returned.

“Just dandy,” Bryony commented. “Are you ready for the clean-up squad?”

“Ready,” Sam affirmed.

“What clean-up?” Logan grumbled. “Thought the bastards were finished, done for?”

“They are,” Dean added. “When dark spirits are eliminated, sometimes it leaves a sort of energy stain, a taint in the area. Since this is a school and there are ‘paths in residence, it’s good to give the area an old-fashioned psychic scrub-down. And I know someone who’s very, very good at that.” He nodded toward Bryony, who smiled her appreciation at his words.

“It’s something we can work as a team, ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll assist me?”

“Just tell me that I don’t have to mop up ghost guts, and I’m all yours,” snarked Jubilee.

Over the next two hours, the group of six started at the highest floor of the mansion and went through every room carrying salted holy water, a lighted candle, censers of frankincense, and psychically swept the place out, room by room, hallway by hallway, floor by floor, and on into the underground. Every portal was asperged and smudged, every drain, every window, even every mirror, since Bryony insisted a mirror was a portal for spirits and energy, as much as a window or door.

With every inch of the place cleansed, even the grounded, practical Logan had to admit that the place somehow felt cleaner, lighter, fresher than it had before, like a spring rainstorm had passed through the building, washing it clean. It felt good.

It was nearly two in the morning when they’d all finished and gathered in the kitchen at Bryony’s insistence that food was needed to ground all the energy they’d expended. She started scrambling eggs and frying sausage while the two brothers started dragging anything they could find from the refrigerator, making an impromptu buffet on the counter tops. Salsa, butter, cheese, onions and jalapenos turned into omelets. Jubilee found a bag of frozen biscuits and slammed them into the oven. A half-hour later, they were all stuffing themselves with abandon.

Apparently, ghost-busting is hungry work, Logan thought to himself as he slathered butter on a hot biscuit. He noted Dean and Rogue whispering to each other as they sat side by side at the long end of the counter, stools tucked closely together. He glared at the hunter, who once glanced toward him with a cocky grin before returning his attentions to the young woman beside him. Jubilee had her hand on Sam’s thigh, who seemed comfortable enough as he plowed through a cheese and jalapeno omelet.

Swallowing the mouthful of biscuit, Logan leaned over to Bryony and softly asked, “Do you think it worked?” He’d told her everything he remembered of the exorcism ritual.

Nodding while she swallowed her own mouthful, she answered, “Yep. From what you’ve told me, and from what I can ‘feel’ in this place, and with the cleansing we gave it, then yes, I am sure they’re gone. But let’s ask the experts.” She turned toward the hunters.

“Sam, Dean - are you sure the ghosts are gone?”

“Absolutely.” Dean said around a mouthful of sausage. “Between the incantation and the blood-burning and the salt, the strongest one - the officer - went bye-bye in a burst of black flame. He’s done for. The others faded before he did.” He forked another link and waved it in the air before Rogue’s mouth, then let her bite the end off with a grin. “They’re toast, for sure.” He ate the rest of the link and a piece of toast.

Sam nodded his agreement, then added, “They’re gone. The incantations I used were an acknowledgment of the seance’s opening, then a gathering of the unwelcome spirits, then a banishment, and a ritual closing of the portal. They’re gone from this plane, and the welcome mat, so to speak, has been pulled in. They can’t come back.”

“So it’s over?” Logan asked.

“It’s over,” Bryony confirmed with a confident grin. “The place is clean, and the kids can come back tomorrow.”

“Which means, the grown-ups have the whole mansion to themselves for tonight, and I for one intend to make use of that fact. How about you and me take the whole third floor for a little one-on-one time, tall, dark and handsome?” She purred at Sam, who blushed, squirmed, and then tentatively reached out for her hand.

“Why not? It’s been a long road trip, and one hell of a long, hard night.”

“We’ll see if we can’t make it just a bit longer and harder, then,” quipped Jubilee and then Sam really did blush, but followed the young woman out the door into the dark hallway, looking back at his brother with a shrug of the shoulders and a cheesy grin.

Bryony fought off a yawn, then drank down the cup of tea she’d been nursing. It was after three am and she was getting tired. Logan looked into her dark eyes and knew he’d welcome her company in his bed. “Come on up to my room, you’re beat.”

“Does that mean we take the second floor?” She grinned at him.

“Yeah.” Turning to Dean and Rogue at the far end of the counter, Logan added, “Can you two handle locking this place down for tonight? Rogue knows the security room and how to activate all the alarms. You,” he focused on Dean,” can bunk down in the library. There’s a couch in there that’ll hold one person comfortably enough.”

“He can have my room,” Rogue cut in. “Dean is a guest and he deserves a bed.”

“Your bed?” Logan started to rise from the stool. The look on his face was unmistakable hostility.

“Any bed he wants,” Rogue confirmed and stood up as well, facing Logan down as they both stepped into the kitchen aisle, staring hard at each other. Dean grinned and ate a huge bite of omelet. Bryony observed the exchange with an inscrutable expression.

“And how far does your hospitality go?” Logan knew he’d stuck his foot in his mouth as soon as the words came out.

“Why didn’t you question Jubilee when she invited Sam along with her? Are we not all equals here? You’ve got your bed buddy for the night all arranged, so why are you giving me grief for being a good hostess and at least trying to make a guest comfortable in a decent bed?” Rogue knew the conversation was going down a bad path, but her anger was up and she refused to hold back any more.

“Because Jubilee is not you,” Logan growled low, not willing to give up any more emotion in a response, not with strangers watching.

“Logan, go on to bed, trust me to lock the place down, and leave it alone, now!” Rogue growled right back at him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t! He’s not good enough for you, and he’ll just pack up and move on tomorrow, and you’ll be hurt.”

The gloves were off, figuratively, and Rogue stopped caring. “Listen to yourself! You sound like my father trying to lecture me against having a romp in the hay with you, for godssake! Logan, your biggest argument against Dean is that he’s probably too much like you! You’re the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em king of the whole continent, and you’re bitching at me for inviting a man to sleep in my bed? What a hypocrite you are!”

Logan spared a glance at Dean, who was apparently enjoying the show while he continued shoveling food between grins.

“He’s nothing like me,” Logan stated flatly.

“Oh, bullshit!” Rogue waved one hand dismissively in the air. “You two are like peas in a pod.”

“I can’t wait to hear this,” Dean commented to Bryony, who still sat unmoving and silent. Rogue continued.

“You’re both flirts, both charming, and good-looking...” Dean winked at Bryony, who finally rolled her eyes. “... territorial, take-charge leader types, alpha males to the hilt... you even both have hazel eyes and are too damned sexy for anyone’s good.”

Logan fumed in silence. Dean grinned and ate a jalapeno, then mopped his nose from the heat assailing his sinuses. Bryony observed once again in calculated silence. Dean ate a second pepper, then gasped out, “Got any cold beer?”

“No,” Logan growled at the same time Rogue answered, “Yes,” and pointed at the fridge. Dean pulled out a beer and kept a respectable distance from the arguing mutants. Logan bit down the urge to take the Molson out of the punk’s hand, but reined himself in a little.

What Logan desperately wanted to do right now was grab Rogue and kiss the daylights out of her, but then he thought of the woman he’d already invited into his bed tonight, sitting right behind him, and felt a stab of guilt. Rogue was right - he was overstepping his bounds.

“Do what you want,” was as close as Logan would go toward an apology, then turned toward Bryony and reached for her hand. He knew he was in deep shit when she sat still, not responding to his invitation. “Want to crash now?” He tried to soften his voice, take the tension out of the situation.

“I think I’d best go home tonight. It’s been a very trying couple of days. I’ll let myself out, thanks.” She stepped past Logan, turned back long enough to kiss his cheek, and moved toward the door.

“Bryony... “ Logan began, then silenced.

“We’ll talk soon, Logan. Goodnight.” Bryony moved further toward the door, then turned to Dean who was relishing the beer. “If you need a place to crash, there’s a spare room at my farmhouse. You know the way.”

“Think I’ll take you up on that,” Dean commented as he rose from the table. “It seems there’s still a lot of tension around here.” He focused on Rogue, adding, “Thanks for the invitation, but I think you’ve got some stuff going on here to sort out, and I’d just be in the way. ‘Night.” He grabbed the shotgun and a duffle bag from the counter and followed the witch out the door. He’d call Sammy in the morning by cell phone and they’d haul ass for Jersey when everyone was conscious and vertical again.

Rogue stood stiff and silent, her back turned toward Logan who stood stiff and silent behind her. Just when the tension was about to break him, he heard her give an un-lady-like snort, then start to laugh with the irony of it.

“Oh lordy, Logan. We’ve both just been dumped at the same time.”

“Yep, looks like it.” Logan shoved his hands in his pockets, just for something to do.

“You like her,” Rogue turned and commented, knowing it was the truth.

“Yeah, I do.” Logan waited a few moments before adding, “And you really liked him?” Rogue noted the tone of disbelief in Logan’s voice.

“Yeah, you know, on the surface, since I’ve only known him a few hours. Guess I’m attracted to the ‘type’ he is... the alpha thing. That’s very attractive to me.” Her head went down then, and she continued, “But it can’t be. I can’t touch, and no man’s gonna want that in a woman.”

“When you fall in love with the right man, it won’t matter. You’re young, Marie. Give it time.”

Rogue felt something break inside her, and she pushed it down, turning to face Logan finally.

“You better call Bryony tomorrow and see if you can salvage what you’ve started with her. I’ve seen the way you two are together. There’s something there. Fight for it.”

“I don’t think so.” His head went down, his eyes studying the floor.

“You just admitted you like her,” Rogue commented, stepping closer to him, resting one gloved hand on his forearm. “Isn’t that worth at least a phone call, or better yet a conversation over lunch?”

Shoving his free hand through his mussed hair, Logan sighed but remained silent for a long time, then admitted, “I don’t know. This is not territory I’m familiar with, all this relationship stuff. I’m in over my head, and I don’t know how to handle it, or even if I want to handle it.”

“Bryony said she’d talk to you soon. If you don’t know what to do, then let her take the lead. Women like that occasionally, you know. Feel her out, see how she feels about the situation. If she likes you, too, then start over. You met under a very difficult circumstance, so try it without the pressure, and see what happens.”

“What the hell are you doing, advising me on my love life? What happened to that teenage crush you had on me when we first came here? Now you’re trying to hook me up with another woman?” Logan grinned at Marie, trying to break the tension between them, then instinctively knew that he’d once again wandered onto dangerous ground.

“I’m trying to be an adult here,” Marie admitted, drew a deep, steadying breath, and continued. “There was a crush. It changed. I love you. I hope there comes a point in my life where I can show a man that kind of love in a very physical way, that won’t be a deadly risk. But until that time, I can’t commit to anyone. I don’t want second-best in anything.” She stood silently for a few moments before continuing. “If you have a shot at a relationship, then take it. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work; and it won’t be the first time two people couldn’t patch something together.”

“Considering that she just walked out on me and invited that guy along with her, I don’t think there’s much chance of patching anything. And I don’t blame her.”

“She knows how I feel about you, and I’m betting she knows how you feel about me, since you’ve spent so much time with her. Did you know she’s a touch-empath?”

Logan stared hard into Rogue’s eyes. “She told me she wasn’t a mutant. Now you’re saying she’s a ‘path?”

“No, not a mutant telepath. An empath is a person who is sensitive to others’ emotions, and her senses are very heightened in that respect. She told me about it while she was teaching me. You can’t hide much from empaths if you get close to them. And you got close, I’m betting...” Rogue smiled up at Logan’s befuddlement, “...very close.”

“Still, she’s gone and he’s with her. That says it all,” Logan stated flatly, trying to get into don’t-give-a-shit mode.

“And if you’ll remember, she offered him the spare room. Details, sugar, it’s all in the details. Call her tomorrow and see how she’s doing, and let fate take it from there. You can check the security room. I’m going to bed. ‘Night.”

“Night, darlin’,” Logan smiled and swept one arm behind Rogue’s shoulders, then planted a quick kiss on her bare forehead, not allowing her skin time to react, then strode toward the security room.

A half-hour later, Rogue settled into bed and dropped quickly into a deep, undisturbed sleep, the first in many days and nights.

Friday

Morning brought the buses of mutant children back to the freshly-cleansed mansion, and the noise level rose considerably as the ghost-hunters and their assistants stumbled in from their various beds and gathered in the kitchen once the noisy children were tucked safely into their first morning classes after their breakfast. Professor Xavier stayed behind long enough to thank the brothers and discretely slipped them an envelope for their trouble. Sam started to protest, but Dean quickly settled the issue with a ‘thank you’ and ‘just call if you need help again’ before they settled down to the second-shift of breakfast in the same spots they’d occupied last night.

Logan took a discrete sniff toward Bryony and did not detect any significant male scent on her, then grinned to himself as he wolfed down hash browns and bacon. He grinned broader when she brought her plate and settled beside him, smiled, and started to eat in silence.

“Thanks for last night. If you’re passing through this way again, you may call me,” Jubilee bestowed the favor on Sam, who was looking enormously pleased with himself. He slid a business card across the table toward the edge of her plate, and pointed at the phone number.

“If you need us, call us. And yeah, same goes. Drop me an e-mail sometime. If we get in the same area, dinner’s on me. And thanks - it was...” he floundered for words. “... it was... enlightening, and yeah, a good night.”

“I’m your first, aren’t I?” Jubilee grinned at the taller brother, who blushed and nearly choked on a piece of toast.

Coughing away the crumbs, Sam stated, “No, not my first. I’m no, uh... virgin.” He was turning beet red to his ears.

“I meant your first mutant,” Jubilee giggled at Sam's confusion.

“Oh... yeah. Yes, my first mutant. Sorry, I didn’t understand.”

Dean shouldered against Rogue who was dipping her toast in her fried egg’s yolk. “That offer stands - you need, you call.” He shoved a card toward her as well. “Maybe next time we cross paths, you won’t have that overgrown study hall monitor hanging over you and we can get better acquainted.” Dean gave her a wicked grin and a flirty wink. Rogue grinned and laughed. Logan eavesdropped, growled, and refocused when Bryony playfully poked him on the thigh with her fork.

When the meal was cleaned away, the two brothers rose and the two mutant females walked them to their car. Jubilee gave Sam a blatant good-bye kiss on their side of the car, while Rogue stood on the driver’s side with Dean, wishing she could do the same.

“Just how fast does your skin kill?” Dean asked, grinning.

“It takes several seconds to kill, just a few seconds to start pulling energy and stuff like memories and powers, if you have those.” Dean’s fingers strayed into her white locks, not touching bare skin, but as close as possible.

“How many seconds is several?” He stepped closer, pinning her against the car’s door, making his intentions clear.

“Umh, I don’t know exactly...” Rogue was getting nervous and excited at the same time. Even a short space of contact might garner some of his memories and emotions, but they wouldn’t last long. They would fade as quickly as Bobby’s and John’s had after their time in Boston. It might be worth the risk. “Maybe ten, fifteen seconds... it sort of depends on what kind of...”

And before she could finish the sentence, Dean was kissing her, hesitant touching at first, breaking contact quickly, then taking longer as confidence built and Rogue responded to the demanding press of his mouth on hers.

The kiss lengthened, and eventually the pull started, taking Dean by surprise and leaving Rogue breathless and pumped with arcane knowledge that seemed to swirl around inside her head. They parted quickly and Dean still kept her pinned against the side of the old black car while he tried to catch his breath and gather his wits.

“You do pack a punch, lady,” he finally admitted, shaking off the drain. “Wow.”

“Sorry - can’t say I didn’t warn you.” She looked down in shame, but Dean used the strands of her hair over his fingers to raise her chin again, facing her squarely.

“It was worth it. You keep that card I gave you. If you need me, or if things change with you, call me. Remember what I said before: a real man lives for a challenge.”

“I’ll remember that. Have a safe trip, wherever you’re going.” She smiled up at him and he stepped back, allowing her to move away from the car door. Sliding into the car, the two brothers waved as the Chevy disappeared down the driveway and beyond the trees.

“Now, there goes an interesting pair of men,” Jubilee commented, then lightly punched Rogue on the arm. “You got kissed! Dude, that proves what I’ve been telling you all along. You’re hot, and you’re worth the risk.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” Rogue grinned at her friend as they strolled back into the mansion.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen and with the others gone, Bryony had broached the subject first.

“I saw you sniffing around me, and no, I didn’t sleep with him.”

“Caught that, did you?” Logan pushed his empty plate away and drank down the last half of his coffee.

“I don’t miss much,” she confirmed. “Are we going to talk about your feelings for Rogue, or are we going to ignore it?”

“I’m going to ignore it. It’s the only decent thing I can think to do. She’s too young and naive and impressionable, and she’s my friend. End of subject.”

“Uh-huh, right,” Bryony commented with sarcasm. “She adores you, that’s obvious. You adore her and watch over her like a hawk, and get territorial with her being around other men. That spells emotional investment to me. Should I ignore that, too, or break things off with you since you’re invested in her, or go ahead and date you and keep it casual friends?”

“Go ahead and date me and keep it casual friends, ‘cause I like the sound of that,” Logan admitted. “I like you, and I like being with you, and I’m not willing to just let you walk away without at least trying to talk you out of it.”

“So, we’re talking fuck buddies here, or casual friends, or exclusive, or seeing other people, or what? ‘Cause I really think we need to define some boundaries.”

“If you want to see someone else, you tell me. If I want to see someone else, I’ll tell you. Does that sound fair?”

“It does.” Bryony was starting to feel like they were negotiating a contract, but it was better than wondering what the hell was going on while no one was talking at all. “I’m all about the honesty factor in any relationship.”

“I can get behind that.” Logan stood and refilled his cup, offered her some, but then remembered she was a tea drinker. She waved him off, regardless.

“No thanks. I’ve got harvesting work to do at home, so I’m gonna go be productive. See ya.”

She started for the kitchen door, when Logan stepped behind her and gently grasped her arm, pulling her back to look at him.

“Got any other dinner date tonight? Maybe with another man?”

Pretending to think it over, she smiled and confessed, “No, my calendar is clear.”

“I’ll pick you up about eight, okay?”

“Okay.” Logan leaned in and kissed her, then let her walk away, smiling. Bryony passed Rogue and Jubilee as they came back in the front door. The women all greeted each other and parted quickly, as the demands of the day took over.

Jubilee disappeared upstairs while Rogue walked over to Logan’s side. They each leaned their backs against the inside of the door frame, regarding each other across the narrow span.

“You look like the cat that ate the canary, and I can smell that little punk on you. Did he get fresh with you?” Logan groused.

“Yep, and it was good. I got my first grown-up kiss, and he’s not dead, and I can handle that short-term download into my head. Right now, I know the entire banishing ritual for ghosts, and a lot of stuff about vampires and werewolves, which is interesting because I didn’t believe they were real.”

Logan nearly goggled at Rogue talking about such wild things, and he spluttered, “What?! Werewolves? Vampires? He kissed you?!”

“Yes, they’re real; yes, he kissed me; yes, he lived through it; and yes, I’ve got work to do. Tomorrow night is the big Halloween dance and I need a costume that’ll rock someone’s socks off. See you later, sugar.”

And with a deft, quick lunge, she planted a firm, sweet kiss right on Logan’s mouth, then ran away, laughing.

Logan just stood there, gaping at her retreating back, her taste still racing on his lips. Just when he thought he had everything including women figured out, someone turned the tables on him.