Part Seven
Wolverine waited, stunned. He watched her closely,
expecting another of her tricks, but she didn't move. She remained
against the railing, looking out. "I get him int' dis, I get him out," she
whispered. "You go on home, homme. Dis my problem now. An I am gon' take care o' it."
He heard the determination in her voice and it shook
him. He'd never heard that kind of emotion from someone who looked as
young as she did. "So what are you gonna do, kid? Take on the
Assassin's Guild all by your lonesome?" He paused to light a stogie.
"Sounds suicidal. You want to die that bad?"
She turned, and quick as he was, he didn't have time
before she was on him. She bowled him over and sat on his chest, knife
poised at his throat. "Still t'ink I can't take care o' myself,
homme?" He could see the tears in her eyes, behind the dark glasses she wore.
"I started it, I finish it. And don' call me a kid, hehn? I'm older den you t'ink."
Very slowly, he reached up to touch her arm. "You
won't use that sticker, darlin'," he said softly. "You don't have
enough killer in you. Why don't you give it to me?" She made no
protest as his fingers slid down her arm toward the knife. His fingers
closed around hers on the hilt of the blade and she shivered slightly.
So lightly he thought he might have imagined it. Until he heard her voice again.
"Non, cher, I would not use it," she whispered. "Not
on you. Not ever." She stood abruptly and walked away toward the room.
"We goin' t' go after Remy, we need some help, non? Or you t'ink we do
it alone, homme?" Very businesslike, as though nothing had happened.
Everything fell into place for him. "You. That was
you, got me out of that place. Took that collar off me." He followed
her into the room, toward the door, and grabbed her arm again. She
spun to face him and he caught at the other arm, bringing her closer
to him. One arm snaked around behind her, bringing her close to him,
and his other hand slipped under her chin to bring her head up. "Why
did you run, darlin'? I wouldn't have hurt you." He stared at her face
as she struggled to break free. "You were nothing more than a kid
then, I wouldn't have hurt you. I wanted to say thanks."
She fought him harder, both hands pushing against his chest, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Don' trust you, homme, not den, not now," she grated as she pushed. His grip tightened
til she was gasping for breath. "Let me go!"
Abruptly he released her, angry at himself for
wasting time. "Come on, kid. We got work to do."
He watched her carefully as she lifted the phone.
"What are you doin now?" he said, exasperated. She dialed a number,
spoke two words, then replaced it in its cradle. Then she turned to
him and he was surprised to see a small smile on her lips.
"Just callin' reinforcements, homme. De Guild look
after its own. Now we go meet someone, hehn?"
He paused, considering. She would be the best one to
know the city, but he didn't quite trust her enough to let her run the
show, not yet. "We'll go. But I want some answers from you, kid.
Starting with why all this is going on in the first place."
She sighed. "I tell you on de way, homme," she said,
resignation in every syllable. "We go now, Henri meet us in dis cafe I know in ten
minutes."
[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 ]
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