The air was heavy in the swamps at night, and this night was no exception. Celeste crept through the undergrowth around the edges of the conclave. The sound of drums and ancient chants filled the air, illuminated by the bonfire in the middle of the clearing. Celeste stifled a sneeze and adjusted the mask that covered her face. It was a mask of a white owl, with larger eye holes than usual. Celeste had put on the mask and lined her eyelids with glitter to draw attention to them. She was wearing a skirt that knotted on one side, leaving her hip completely bare. Her shirt was suitably small, little more than a sports bra. She was barefoot and without accessories, except for the leather armband and ritual symbols tattooed on her body. A guttural cry came from the group around the fire, and Celeste crouched lower as she continued to crawl around the periphery. She couldn't afford to be spotted yet; she had to blend into the group and make her way to the front. Logan and Gambit were somewhere behind her, although it was just like Logan to disobey her orders and climb a tree to look over the scene. Celeste lifted her head and twisted around, scanning the woods behind her. There! Gambit was concealed in the darkness behind the tree to her left, and Logan. . .yeah, Logan was *in* the tree, looking at her. She glared up at him. Oh, well. If he were spotted, the voodooiennes would probably take him for a huge bird and leave it at that. Earlier, they had found out from Simone, a long-time priestess who rarely showed up for the conclaves these days, that they had planned two sacrifices tonight. One was an eager young girl, newly initiated, and the second was a fabled descendant of The Leveau. At sundown, they had hunted down the girl and stashed her with Simone, all trussed up. Now all Celeste had to do was make sure she got picked as the replacement sacrifice and hope to God Logan's timing wasn't off, or he really would be stuck with a heartless wife. Celeste grimaced. Bad joke. The drums shifted, signaling the end of prayer. #This is it, Wolvie.# She rose to her feet and slipped into the crowd, silently moving to the front. The M.C. to this thing was at least six feet tall, brown-skinned, and masked as a wolf. The headdress covered his head completely, with fur flowing past his shoulders. Dark eyes glinted behind the eye holes as he raised his arms and gave the signal for silence, and then to bring forth the sacrifice. No one stepped forward. Confusion broke over the people in waves. The leader calmed them again, and called out in a dark, harsh voice, "Where is the sacrifice?"

"She isn't here, High Lord!" the guards answered from the back. "She has not appeared!"

"Blasphemy! Who would turn away from her sacred duty to the Gods!" The man hissed furiously. Nobody backed out of a date with destiny. "Who among you would take her place, then, to meet the one God?"

"I would." Celeste's voice rang out over the bayou, loud and clear, drowning out any other offers. The wolf turned his attention to her, scrutinizing her dress and bearing. Her gown was snowy white, reflecting the firelight. But it was her eyes that caught his attention. They were silver-gold, and they blazed into the darkness without reflecting any light other than what came from within. She was glittering, perfect, and the Serpent God would love her.

He pointed at her. "You. You will be the one."

Celeste lowered her eyes and bowed to the man, trying to seem grateful for the honor. She flicked a glance at the edge of the glade. Gambit and Wolverine had moved closer, thank God. She really wished they didn't have to see what came next. The High Lord called her to his side and ordered her to dance within the circle. The circle, of course, was the vévé on painted in the dirt. It was a circle within a circle, painted with magic symbols and characters. It was one of the most potent symbols of voodoo, and to dance on one was considered a high honor and a chance to declare yourself to the Gods to boot. Wah-hoo, Celeste grumbled silently. Lucky me. But the drums started, and there was no more chance to think.

Logan watched her as she danced for them, swaying to the beat of the drums like a woman possessed. Which was probably the point. His eyes narrowed on the "High Lord" of this outfit. The man was leaning into Celeste, and he took the opportunity to brush against Celeste's thighs as she danced past. Son of a bitch. 'Course, looking at her dancing around, he couldn't really blame them. Celeste was on fire, gorgeous, and, worse, she knew it. She just about had them in the palm of her hand when the ringleader ordered her to stop. Wolverine leaned over and said, "I don't see the kid yet, Gumbo. What the hell's going on?"

Gambit shrugged uneasily. "Dunno. Maybe dey're bringin' him out later."

He snorted. "Not good enough. 'Later', Celeste'll be missin' a major organ."

"Well, den, we'll have t'make sure dat don't happen, hein?"

A high shrill scream brought their attention back to the conclave. Celeste was standing with a bloody knife in her hands, a pair of dead chickens on the table in front of her. The blood had sprayed one of the bystanders and scared the hell out of someone else. As was custom, Callie dripped her fingers into the blood and smeared it on her cheekbones, beneath the mask. The red stuff also went on her throat, her bare hip, and, the piece de résistance, a bloody handprint to the heart. X marks the spot, obviously. She went peaceably to another table and lay down on it. The High Lord snapped manacles over her wrist and ankles, and Callie knew a moment of panic. The bonds were metal, but they were steel. Not natural. She was trapped. She couldn't control something if it wasn't a direct product of the Elements. Steel was a metal alloy. Oh, God.

"We offer dis girl into your keeping, Damballa, O Serpent-God. We give her to you, so dat you may cherish and keep her fo' all time. . . ."

Oh, my God, I'm going to die. #Logan!#

#I'm here, darlin'. Just relax. We gotta time this.#

#Screw timing! Get me the hell out of here!#

". . . We offer her up to you, Damballa, because we know dat in Your infinite wisdom, you will. . ."

#LOGAN!#

#I'm comin'! Relax!#

#You relax! I'm the one chained to a table in front of a dagger-wielding religious freak!#

". . . And so, wit' Your blessing, I make de first cut." The knife lowered.

"Wait!" Celeste's shriek was so high and loud that he flinched and jerked away, forgetting his higher purpose for the moment. "I have but one wish in all the world," That I had a husband who would save my ass, "I wish to see the Leveau Child. I wish to look into his eyes and know the truth." Bluff, bluff. The truth is out there. Everybody stall for time! She pulled the oldest trick in the book then, batting her eyes at the man and licking her lips prettily.

Jean-Luc finally put in an appearance. He was marched out on the arms of two burly-looking henchmen. He was gagged and blindfolded, so that he couldn't influence anyone with his eyes or voice. Damn. "I wish to see his eyes! Please!" she insisted.

He looked into her eyes and knew that he couldn't deny her anything. Anything, except to be set free. He reached sideways and yanked off the blindfold. Everyone was careful to avert their eyes. Shock was transparent in him, when he saw his mother was the sacrifice, he stiffened. He didn't look away, though. After a few seconds, he nodded.

Gambit glanced at Logan, confused. Logan shrugged and moved closer, around the other side of the clearing. He was just a few feet away from the table now.

Celeste turned her head and closed her eyes, the picture of someone accepting their fate. The knife raised again.

Logan slammed into the wolf-man like a mack truck. Gambit threw cards at the guards flanking his son, and J.L. hauled against the ropes binding his wrists. Logan and the wolf-man grappled against each other, nimbly avoiding claws and the dagger. It was hard to say whose will was greater.

Meanwhile, pandemonium erupted around them, as various weapons appeared in the hands of the conclave members. The knot slipped free, and J.L. reached up to rip off the gag. "Stop!" He screamed over the noise. For a second, *everything* stopped. Logan and his opponent, the people in the crowd, they all acted like they were caught in freeze-frame. "Get out." he snarled. The people in the crowd dropped their weapons and dove for the underbrush.

The wolf-man, however, was another problem. He had been blinded and deafened long ago to everything except his religion. And right now, his religion demanded that Celeste's heart be cut from her body. Gambit was busy tossing the few stragglers out of the clearing, and so he didn't see the wolf-man slip from Wolverine's grasp and make a final, desperate lunge, knife raised, at Celeste's heart. It was too unexpected, too soon. Celeste had been centering her defenses around her children lately, and the split-second of time allotted didn't leave time to change it. But J.L. saw. His body crashed down over hers just as her half-strangled scream split the air. The knife slammed home with a vengeance, and Celeste kept screaming. Her son was going to die, no matter how hard she had tried to protect him. His arms tightened around her before the went disgustingly limp. Was he dead? Celeste thought wildly. No, his breath fanned her throat. He had passed out from shock, then. Rage leapt to the surface, and she jerked against her bonds. Where was the blood? If he'd been stabbed, blood should be pouring over her legs. Dare she hope he had developed a healing factor?

Logan snarled, the sound insidious in the night, and plunged both sets of claws into the man's rib cage from behind. The ribs collapsed, ripping into the lungs and heart as they went. With a bloody cough, the man fell to the ground and convulsed. The last words on his lips before he died were prayers offered up to his lord and master.

Celeste let out a long, pent-up breath as Logan released the catches on her shackles. She sat up and took her son in her arms, nevermind the fact that he was already as tall and built like his father. She ran her hands over him checking for wounds. There wasn't so much as a scratch. She shuddered but forced herself to reach around to the small of his back, where the knife had hit. Nothing. . .but the hard edge of something tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Gasping excitedly, she pulled it out. A knife. The dagger had been a gift from her for his tenth birthday. "You always told me to carry that. Said it'd save my life one day," Jean-Luc muttered, opening his eyes. He sat up and looked at Gambit, who had come up to stand behind Celeste. "You must be my father," he said noncomittally.

"Yeh. It looks like."

"Y'know, I'd love to hang around for this lovely reunion, but now that he's safe, can we just get the hell out o' here?"

Celeste sighed. "Yes, dear." She looked expectantly at J.L. "You comin'?"

He shrugged. "Might as well. For some reason, I don't feel like hanging around here."

"Yeah." Celeste raised her hands and took them all back to the mansion. . .in a flash.

They dropped out of the sky like clay pigeons. "Damn it, girl!" Logan bellowed at her on the way down before he hit the ground with a crash. Celeste stabbed a tree with her claws and slid down to the nearest branch, dropping to the forest floor quietly. They had all appeared over the mansion and fallen to earth somewhere around here. She walked across the forest and came upon a nasty looking patch of thorns. At least nobody had landed there.

"Logan?" she called softly, "Log--Aaaaaaaggggh!"

He stood up out of the thorns and tackled her, flatterning her to the ground. "You really gotta improve your aim, darlin'!" he growled.

Celeste bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, but it made no difference. She started laughing anyway.

"Not funny," he insisted, picking prickly things out of his hair. She gasped as he yanked her to her feet, pulling her forward with enough force that she had to walk or risk falling on her face. "Hey, wait! We have to look for--"

"Forget it, darlin'. They can find their own way back to th' house." He pulled open the front door and shoved her inside. He looped a possessive arm around her waist, probably to keep her from bolting back into the forest, and dragged her into the Rec Room. Everyone was there, as he had figured.

There were hugs, exclamations and a collective, "Tell us all about it!"

Celeste grinned, aware of the picture she made in the blood-stained outfit and religious tattoos. Sort of like the Den Mother of the Village of the Damned's cub scouts. "Well, we found out that it really didn't have anything to do with *me*, but with my aunt and her damn following. They were going to sacrifice him, until I stepped up to the plate and--"

She was interrupted by squeaks on the linoleum floor as Gambit and Jean-Luc stormed into the room, dripping wet. "Nice job, Maman," J.L. said sarcastically, "Your finesse is uncanny. Dunked both of us in de Goddamned lake."

There was a moment of silence as everyone absorbed the shock of the resemblance.

It passed, and they were now more determined than ever to hear the story. It took quite a while, what with Logan telling it. Celeste and Jean-Luc interjected scathing comments, and Gambit chain-smoked until his headache went away. "But we're all still here," Logan finished, eyeing Celeste's grin. "Kind of."

"All in all, I'd say you did very well," Charles seemed pleased.

"We came, we saw, we kicked ass," Callie agreed.

"Back t'business as usual." Gambit was close to nodding off.

After that, and for a long while, there was only laughter in the mansion.