Chapter 7
The rental car rolled off the interstate and onto a flat, empty road lined with cookie-cutter houses. Jean tapped the wheel with both thumbs, alternating between the accelerator and the brake with a lead-footed rhythm. They were supposed to be inconspicuous, but the way she drove, Harry thought they might end up in a jail cell before even getting to Kitty.
He kept a discreet eye on the speedometer. When it hit sixty in a twenty-five mile per hour zone, he cleared his throat. "Are we running late, or do you just have a death wish?"
Jean's mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "Both. The Professor wants us to get to her before anyone else does. If you're scared, you can hold my hand."
Harry looked at her with an eyebrow raised and said, "You don't have to make excuses to touch me, you know. Just say that you can't keep your hands off me," Harry teased. "I won't tease you about it."
"That's good because the last boy who teased me spent half the day believing he was a ballerina," Jean good-naturedly fired back while tapping the side of her head. Harry knew that that wasn't an idle threat. She had the power to do it. She jerked the wheel to avoid a cyclist in the street. The car swung wide before straightening, the tires loudly screeching on the hot asphalt. Jean gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she kept glancing at Harry like she expected him to leap from the moving vehicle at any moment.
"Point taken," he said, and set his hand on the dashboard just in case. The move made Jean laugh. Her laugh was bright and unworried, as if she didn't have a care in the world. Harry found he liked it.
Ahead, the sign for Deerfield High School was rapidly approaching. Jean slammed on the brakes and took the turn into the parking lot at double the recommended speed. The rental car, an ugly white sedan with peeling window tint, fishtailed for a second before settling. She killed the ignition and let out a satisfied breath. She seemed proud that their journey hadn't ended in a fiery crash. "We're here," she announced, and glanced at him. "Are you ready?"
Harry shrugged, unbuckled his seat belt, and checked himself in the side mirror. "As ready as I'm gonna be. This is all new to me," he said, smoothing a hand through his mess of black hair. "Are we just going to walk up to her, or …?"
"Let's not scare her. You're going to let me do the talking at first," Jean said, straightening her shirt and then running her fingers through her thick mane of red hair. "She's scared, and she probably thinks she's going crazy. You need to be as non-threatening as possible."
Harry opened the door and grinned at her. "I can manage that. I won you over, didn't I?"
"Just try to look approachable," Jean said, rolling her eyes. She got out of the car and stretched. Harry took the opportunity to scope out her attractive curves. They walked to the main entrance, which was a massive glass wall plastered with banners and student council slogans.
The building itself was practically empty. It seemed that everyone was in class. The only movement came from a janitor dragging a trash can across the lobby, humming loudly to himself. Harry caught sight of their reflections in the glass. Jean looked quite sexy in her fitted t-shirt and tight jeans.
"How exactly are we going to find her?" Harry asked, lowering his voice as they stepped through the doors.
Jean shot him a smirk. "Watch and learn." She closed her eyes for a second, then put two fingertips to her right temple. She stood there for a moment, unmoving and breathing steadily. Harry noticed the way her body shifted. The playfulness melted away, replaced by a tension that seemed to hum in the air. Her lovely face seemed strained.
Jean opened her eyes and let out a breath she had been holding. "She's here. Third floor, east hall." Jean shook her head. "She's in a bit of a pickle."
"Is she okay?" Harry asked.
Jean nodded. "She's panicking, but she's not in any danger."
Harry followed her up the stairs. They took a hard left at the first landing and ducked into a hallway lined with lockers. Every few feet, posters for the math club and the homecoming dance line the wall. Harry's heart rate picked up as they neared. He really wanted to do a good job and prove he belonged.
Halfway down the hall, Harry heard a metallic thumping noise. He then heard a muffled, urgent voice. "Let me out! I can't breathe in here!" The banging got louder, which then turned into a rapid-fire series of kicks.
They reached the locker, and Jean nodded at Harry. The banging on the locker door was frantic. Harry placed his palm flat against the metal, closed his eyes, and concentrated. The memory of using his powers flooded back into his mind. Suddenly, the locker door evaporated into a puff of metallic dust.
A pretty girl tumbled out and landed right in Harry's arms. She was wearing a pair of capri jeans and a thin pink cardigan. Her brown hair was in a messy ponytail, and her bright blue eyes were wide with panic. She made a little "eep" noise and clutched at his arm, her soft hands digging in as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling through the floor.
Jean was the first to break the silence. "Kitty Pryde?"
The girl let go of Harry and stumbled back, her cheeks flaming red. She brushed herself off and backed away from both of them. "Who are you people? What did you do to the locker?" she demanded.
Harry smiled, not moving an inch. "We're here to help you."
Kitty glared at them both, then at the ruined locker. She folded her arms across her chest and shivered in the air-conditioned hallway. "You're not from the school," she said suspiciously. "Did my mom send you?"
Jean stepped forward, her voice soft. "Your mother is worried about you, but she didn't call us. We … have ways of knowing when people like you are in trouble."
"People like me?" Kitty's jaw set tightly, and her blue eyes flashed with something like anger. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice cracking.
"Don't be embarrassed," Jean said gently. "When I first got my powers, I made everything in the living room crash straight into the ceiling … including the family dog. It really scared me, and my dog wasn't too happy either. If you'd rather talk in private …"
"I'm not a freak," Kitty snapped. She looked like she might bolt down the hall at any second.
Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Neither am I," he said, and he reached into her locker and snatched up an empty candy bar wrapper. Harry closed his eyes, and the plastic shimmered, twisted, and transformed into a single white lily. He offered it to her, holding it out in the palm of his hand.
Kitty stared at the flower. Her expression softened, and for a second, she looked like she might cry. "That's … pretty," she managed. She reached out with trembling fingers and took the flower from his hand. "How did you …?"
"We're the same as you," Harry said, stepping back to give her space. "We're not freaks. We're just different."
Kitty's cheeks burned pink, and she hid her face behind the flower for a second. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then whispered, "Thank you."
Jean relaxed. "We're not here to get you in trouble, Kitty. We just want to talk."
Kitty looked from Jean to Harry. When she saw Harry's handsome face, her cheeks turned an even brighter pink. "What if I don't want to talk?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"That's fine," Harry said, leaning against the lockers. "We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."
Jean grinned at Kitty. "I'm Jean, and this hopeless romantic is Harry."
Kitty glanced at the flower, then at Harry. "You made this out of nothing?" she asked.
"I made it out of your wrapper," Harry said. "You'd be surprised what you can do if you train with your powers." He winked at her.
She bit her lower lip, trying not to smile. Then, almost shyly, she tilted her head down and smelled the flower. Harry couldn't help but smile at the girl.
Jean softened her tone. "Kitty, has anything weird happened today?"
Kitty hesitated, her shoulders hunched. "I woke up in the bathtub," she whispered, embarrassed. "I went to sleep in my bed, but I woke up in the tub downstairs. My mom freaked out."
Harry nodded, already knowing about her power. "Did you fall through anything?"
Kitty's eyes widened. "The floor. I … I think I fell through the floor."
Jean nodded, glad Kitty was opening up. "Kitty, this is important. Can you do it on purpose?"
Kitty hesitantly shook her head, and Jean nodded in understanding. "Back at Xavier's School, you can learn to use your powers in a safe environment."
Kitty looked confused. "So you're like, superheroes or something?"
Jean laughed. "Something like that. We mainly just train so we don't accidentally hurt ourselves or someone else when using our gifts."
Kitty finally let herself smile. "I just want to get through high school without winding up in a lab."
Harry nodded. "We can help with that." He gestured down the hall. "Do you want to get out of here? We can talk in the car while we drive you home."
Kitty looked down at the flower in her hand. She seemed to make a decision. "Only if you promise not to lock me in the trunk. I've had enough of that for one day."
Harry offered her his arm, and she actually took it, her grip surprisingly strong for someone her size. "I promise," he said. They walked toward the stairwell, with Jean falling into step beside Kitty. She kept the mood light by cracking jokes.
They exited out the side door into the blazing afternoon sun. The parking lot was full of cars, and a guy was loitering by the bike racks. The guy watched them with a sneer. His face was long, and his hair was a greasy, brown mullet. As they passed, Harry caught the flash of a knife handle sticking out from the kid's pocket. Harry glared back at him and put his hand lightly on Kitty's back, steering her toward the car.
The greasy-haired boy waited until they were out of earshot before dialing a number on his phone. He watched the trio walking toward a white car and murmured, "Yeah. They're here. They're leaving the school with her. You want me to follow?"
A female voice crackled on the other end of the line. "Just keep your eyes on them, and whatever you do, don't let them get on that jet. I'm still an hour away. Do you understand?" the voice menacingly stated.
"Yeah, I got it," Lance grunted, and the line immediately disconnected. Lance shoved his phone back in his pocket and smirked. He was going to enjoy this.
Magical Mutations
Harry clicked the remote and unlocked the car. Kitty stood nearby with her hands in her pockets. She barely made eye contact, but she seemed less nervous than she had in the school hallway. She shuffled her feet and stared at the ground as if waiting for it to do something interesting. "Why do so many students have cars? It's insane," Harry said, staring out at the sea of cars in the parking lot.
Jean rolled her eyes and walked around to the passenger side. "Don't mind him. He's still learning how America works." She flashed Kitty a reassuring smile.
Before Kitty could respond, the blacktop under their feet quivered. At first, it was subtle, like the vibration from a distant train. Harry felt it through his knees and looked up, confused. "Did you feel that?" he asked.
Kitty blinked, and her mouth twitched. "Is one of you playing a joke?"
Jean frowned and crouched, pressing her fingertips to the curb. "It's not me," she said.
The tremor came again, but this time it wasn't subtle. The ground shuddered with a low-frequency vibration that rattled the rental car's windows and set the loose rocks humming. Harry's gut went cold. He looked down the row of parked cars. The minivan two rows over began to bounce up and down on its shocks, already threatening to tip over.
Kitty yelped and grabbed Jean's arm. "What's happening?" she shrilled.
Jean didn't answer. She swept her sharp eyes around the parking lot. "Get in the car. Now."
Harry sprinted to the driver's door and yanked it open. He dove inside, ducking his head just as the rearview mirror snapped off and hit him in the ear. He ignored it. Jean and Kitty scrambled into the backseat, slamming the doors in tandem. The car rocked sideways as the tremor hit a third time, almost strong enough to tip it.
"I thought Illinois wasn't earthquake country!" Kitty squeaked.
Jean secured her seat belt while glancing up at the rear window, her eyes narrowed. "It's not natural," she called out over the noise. "Someone's doing this."
Harry shoved the key into the ignition and froze. There was now a deep, resonant thump that vibrated up through the tires. It was coming from the street, where a crack had appeared in the blacktop. It zigzagged toward them in a drunken line. The white rental car was parked right in its path.
Kitty pressed her face to the glass. "Uh, do you see that?" She pointed at the crack, which was now a deep fissure widening by the second. The minivan across the lane rocked on its wheels, then slid sideways, drawn by the movement of the earth. A light pole swayed, creaked, and then came crashing down, sparks flying as the wires snapped.
Harry threw the car into reverse. The wheels spun and screamed against the shifting pavement, but the car barely moved. A wave of asphalt rolled beneath them, lifting the sedan a foot into the air, then dropping it hard. Jean's hand shot out, grabbed the front seat, and braced herself. "This isn't random!" she yelled. "Somebody's targeting us!"
"Like who?" Harry demanded.
"Just …" Jean shoved his shoulder. "Keep driving!" The car lurched backwards as the tires finally caught. They gained all of two feet before the rear axle dropped into a sinkhole and the car bottomed out with a metallic shriek. The trunk was now nose-deep in the asphalt. The engine died, and the rental car's lights started flashing while the alarm blared.
Kitty let out a whimper and hugged her knees. "We're going to die. We are literally going to die."
"Not yet," Harry muttered. He looked at Jean, who was already searching for a target. "Can you sense anything?"
Jean shook her head, her eyes glassy. "There's too much background noise. Everyone around here is panicking. This whole place is one giant headache. I can vaguely sense someone, but it's not a mutant I've felt before."
The ground rumbled again, and then the street ruptured. A pickup truck, previously parked several spots over, was spat skyward by the upwelling asphalt. The truck tumbled end over end as it arced toward them. "OUT!" Jean screamed.
Harry threw open the driver's door and rolled out. Kitty tumbled after him, but got her foot stuck and half-dragged herself along the ground, panting in panic. Jean was right behind, hauling Kitty up by the back of her shirt just as the pickup slammed into the rental car with a shriek of splintering glass and twisting metal. The impact exploded the rental car into a bouquet of white fiberglass and random debris.
Shrapnel rained down. Harry instinctively raised his hand, and the air shimmered in front of him. The bits of glass and metal fizzled into a glowing haze before clattering harmlessly to the pavement. He barely noticed it. His eyes were locked on the figure striding through the chaos on the far side of the lot.
He was tall and gangly, with ratty brown hair and a strong jawline. His black leather jacket was two sizes too big, and his boots were scuffed beyond repair. He walked in a weird, loping gait, like he was used to the ground always moving. His brown eyes were narrowed, and his grin was full of venom.
"Who the hell is that?" Harry asked.
"The hell if I know, but I think it's safe to say he's the one causing all of this. I guess he really, really wants Kitty."
Kitty curled into a fetal ball and whispered, "What does he want with me?"
The ground shuddered again. Lance was maybe fifty yards away, but even at that distance, Harry could see his fists clenching and unclenching in rhythm with the quakes.
"Professor Xavier warned us about this. He wants to take you to his team," Jean said, never looking away from the threat. "And he'll trash everything between here and there to do it."
Harry gritted his teeth. He stepped forward, putting himself between Lance and the girls. "Stay behind me," he ordered, then opened his hand. A ball of blue fire kindled in his palm, humming with barely-contained energy.
Lance saw it and laughed out a sharp, barking sound. "Is that the best you've got?"
Harry didn't answer. He didn't need to. He hurled the fireball. It streaked straight for Lance, lighting up the lot in an eerie blue flash. Lance dropped to a knee, slammed his palms to the ground, and the blacktop rumbled up in a slab. The fireball smashed into the barrier and exploded in a shower of sparks and boiling tar.
The concussive explosion sent Lance flying. He slammed into a compact car and dented the door with his back. The back of his head smashed the driver's side window, and his chest burned from the molten tar. He grunted in agony and threw his hand out. The ground trembled so violently that it practically blurred. Huge chunks of the parking lot exploded upward, and a small hatchback was sent flying at Harry like a missile. Jean's eyes glowed faintly green, and the vehicle froze midair, shaking and groaning under the strain.
"I've got it!" Jean shouted, sweat beading on her brow.
Harry sprinted forward, intent on taking the guy out. However, the earthquake was so severe that Harry couldn't even see straight. Everything was a smear of blurs and colors. Jean screamed his name, and Harry quickly decided that she was more important than petty revenge. He disappeared in a flash of fire. He reappeared next to Jean and Kitty, who were trying to stay upright as the parking lot convulsed beneath them.
"New plan," Jean said, panting. "We need to get Kitty out of here. Now."
Harry nodded, but the ground cracked with a deafening groan. The fissure behind them had widened into a canyon, at least fifteen feet across and too deep to see the bottom. The air smelled of burning rubber as cars around them began to smoke. The next quake knocked all three off their feet. Kitty tumbled to the edge of the chasm and scrabbled to grab hold of anything.
"I'm slipping!" she shrieked.
Jean lunged for her, but the ground split again. The gap widened. Jean caught Kitty's wrist, but her own shoes lost traction, and she started sliding in after.
Harry didn't think. He dove straight for them and landed on his stomach just in time to grab Jean's ankle. The ground shuddered, and the three of them dangled for a second before the curb disintegrated. They all fell.
Kitty screamed, and Jean's face was set in pure panic. Harry threw out his hands and summoned them with all his strength, fighting the gravity the whole way. The two girls slammed into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around them. His sense of direction was shot, and the bottom of the fissure yawned up like a waiting mouth. "Harry!" Jean screamed, clutching him like a lifeline.
He closed his eyes, focused everything he had, and acted. All three burst into fire and disappeared as the fissure collapsed around them.
Suddenly, they were all standing on the sidewalk, twenty feet from the chasm. They were shaky but relatively unhurt. Kitty collapsed on the grass, sobbing. Jean dropped to her knees, breathing in short, ragged gasps.
Harry turned back to the parking lot. The chasm had stopped growing, and the ground was no longer shaking. Lance stood at the far end, clutching his chest and head. His jacket was scorched, and he limped as he turned to run. He took one look at Harry and vanished into the dust, leaving nothing but chaos in his wake.
Jean got her breath back first. "Is everyone okay?" she croaked.
Harry nodded, though he felt a bit shaky as the adrenaline began to wear off. "Yeah. We're good."
Kitty looked up, her face streaked with tears. "How did you … How did we …?"
Harry crouched beside her and rubbed her shoulder. "Don't worry. We're safe now. I promise we won't let that guy get you," he said. He hesitated, then wiped the dirt off her cheek. Kitty seemed to lean into his touch.
Jean wiped her mouth and managed a smile. "That was one hell of a first mission," she said.
Harry looked at the devastation. The ground was ripped apart, the school's windows were shattered, and practically every car in the parking lot was totaled. "Let's get out of here before the news vans show up." He offered Kitty his hand. She took it and shakily stood. Jean fell in on Kitty's other side and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"C'mon. I'll take us back to the jet, and we'll contact the Professor. He needs to know about this," Harry said, taking charge of the situation. He opened his arms, and Jean stepped into him, pressing herself against his side. Kitty looked at them and quickly joined in, pressing herself to Harry's other side. He wrapped his arms around them, and they disappeared in a burst of flames.
Magical Mutations
Principal Darkholme's heels made a sharp, clacking sound as she advanced up the rotted steps of the abandoned house. She wore a gray suit and a light purple blouse. She looked very out of place in a run-down house like this.
The interior was a mess, and just looking at it made her sneer. The only sign of recent habitation was the faintly visible trail of muddy footprints leading up the stairs. Darkholme followed them, the rotting wood groaning under her weight.
The upstairs hallway had the thick, musty smell of a basement that hadn't been opened in years, layered with a stench of wet carpet and mold. There were three closed doors, but the footprints went straight to the end. Darkholme didn't hesitate or check the other rooms. She simply walked to the right door and opened it.
Lance was inside, stretched awkwardly on his back across a ruined mattress. His head lolled against the wall, and there was a thick crust of dried blood over his right brow and jaw. His shirt was split down the middle and blackened with soot. Both of his hands were pressed to his damaged midsection.
He saw her in the doorway and tried to get up. He managed two inches before collapsing again, breathing through his teeth. "Ms. Darkholme," he rasped.
She closed the door behind her with a quiet click, then regarded him for a moment. "Well," she said. "If you were hoping to get out of gym class tomorrow, you've succeeded."
Lance managed a thin smile and rolled onto his side. "Did you come here to chew me out, or finish me off?" His voice was scratchy, but he managed to project some bravado.
Darkholme stepped across the room and squatted beside the bed. She examined the wounds with clinical interest. "I expected you to fail," she said. "What I didn't expect was the spectacular mess you made."
She took hold of his chin with cold, strong fingers and forced his head upright so she could stare into his bloodshot eyes. "Sixty-three vehicles damaged, countless civilians hospitalized, and a sinkhole the size of a jumbo jet." She squeezed his face until he winced. "You have a gift for escalation."
Lance spat to the side. "He started it."
She released his chin, disgusted. "Don't blame your incompetence on children."
He glared up at her, one eye already swelling shut. "I almost had her. If that freak and his girlfriend hadn't …"
"If … if … if …" Darkholme stood and turned her back to him, crossing to the room's single intact chair. She sat and crossed her legs with feline poise. "The girl is gone. You let them get her. There are no excuses … only defeat."
Lance's head sagged. He clutched his ribs, and his chest hitched as he coughed. "It wasn't supposed to be like that," he muttered.
"It never is." Darkholme sighed out a tired, bored sound. Then, with a pull of her lips, her features began to flow and shift. Peach skin faded to blue. The hard black eyes turned yellow, the jaw squared, and her hair grew out into a bristling red mane. In three seconds, Principal Darkholme was gone, and Mystique sat in her place. Her blue skin glistened in the dimness, and her smile was now predatory.
She stood again, showing off the change for dramatic effect. Mystique liked an audience, and pain made for a very attentive one. "Your first mission was an abject failure. You have potential, Lance, but you refuse to take direction. You refuse to adapt." She closed the gap between them in two steps and loomed over him, her yellow eyes narrowing. "That girl was our ticket into Xavier's little sanctuary. Instead, you made a spectacle of yourself and brought unwanted attention to us. You failed … just as I knew you would."
He tried to meet her stare, but it hurt too much. "I'll get them next time."
"You're not going to get anything in this condition," Mystique said, looking down at him without an ounce of pity. "You can't even walk."
Lance said nothing. He tried to push himself up, failed, and groaned aloud.
Mystique reached down and grabbed his wrist. He flinched, expecting more pain, but she hauled him upright with a single jerk, locking her grip on his upper arm. "Get up," she ordered. "We're leaving."
He shook his head. "I can't …"
"You can," Mystique said, her voice steely. "And you will."
He got one foot under himself, then the other. He trembled unsteadily, but she was stronger than she looked. She dragged him from the disgusting bed. The blue of her hand stood out starkly against the brown of his skin.
"I'm not going to the hospital," Lance growled, trying to find some dignity in the moment.
Mystique laughed loudly and derisively. "As if I would waste my hard-earned money on you," she amusedly stated. "You're coming to Bayville. If you want to prove you're not a waste of my time, you'll be at the Brotherhood house at dawn, ready to work."
He limped toward the door, her hand still crushing his arm. "What about Kitty?" he asked, his voice softening.
Mystique shook her head. "She's out of our reach for now. If an opportunity arises, we'll capitalize on it. Enough talking … Let's go!" They moved down the hallway while Mystique shifted back into Darkholme. Her steps were brisk and near-silent, and his were a noisy shuffle. Mystique couldn't help but smirk as the idiot boy groaned in pain with every step. Pain was a wonderful teacher, and she planned to teach him a lot.
Chapter 8
The sun broke through the trees in thin, golden shafts. The grass was still wet with dew, and Harry could see his own breath in the air when he exhaled. He took the back steps two at a time and cut across the huge lawn, leaving a trail of bent blades in his wake. At this hour, the mansion was empty and quiet. Jean, Scott, Kurt, and Kitty were all still sound asleep. For some strange reason, Harry didn't sleep nearly as much as they did. He only needed a few hours of good sleep a night to feel fully refreshed. Harry moved with a restless energy. He always felt this way in the morning. He usually used this time to practice his powers. That would help burn through the excess energy and leave him more even-keeled.
He'd had the dream again … the one where he was falling through darkness, then waking up with a start and feeling like he'd been on fire. He couldn't remember how it started or ended, but he knew he had to get out, walk a bit, and clear his mind. It was still early enough that he'd have the whole place to himself.
Harry crossed behind the garage, cutting through the neat rows of clipped hedges. He found a path he'd never walked before, one that wound through a narrow stand of trees and ended at a chain-link gate. He worked the rusty latch and let himself into a little courtyard. At the far end, tucked against the stone wall, was a greenhouse. It was mostly glass, with a peaked roof and a riot of colors inside.
He didn't remember seeing the greenhouse before. Maybe it was new. Maybe he just hadn't paid attention. That was a very real possibility. He stepped closer, and he heard a hissing sound inside. The glass walls were beaded with condensation, and big leaves pressed against them, blurred by the steam. The door was slightly ajar. Harry hesitated for a second, then shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? He suddenly had a vague memory of being in a greenhouse with plants that tried to kill him, but that was obviously crazy.
Inside, the greenhouse was like a tropical oasis. The air smelled like citrus and damp soil, and sweat sprang out on his forehead in seconds. There was a winding gravel path that twisted through clusters of banana trees, orchids, and what looked like some kind of small, dangerous cactus. Sunlight slashed through the roof, turning the foggy air into a shifting, golden haze. In the middle of the greenhouse, under a web of hanging ferns, stood Storm.
She didn't see him at first. She had her back turned, both hands raised above her head, and hr fingers spread as she concentrated. She wore a pair of shorts that instantly captured his attention. They were made of tight white spandex that hugged every contour of her hips and ass, and she had nothing else on below her waist. Her legs were long, toned, and smooth, and her calves flexed with the small movements of her stance. Her skin, the color of caramel, glowed against the white of her tank top. The tank top was so thin and cut so low that it barely covered her breasts. From where he stood, Harry could see the bottom of her large tits hanging out of the bottom of her top. The rest was just skin, gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat.
Harry stopped at the edge of the path and stared, unblinking. Storm's white hair fluttered in the gentle breeze. His eyes drifted down the dip of her waist and over the curve of her hips. He particularly liked the way her shorts vanished into the deep crease of her ass when she stretched higher.
She stood perfectly still for a moment, and then, all at once, a miniature storm cloud gathered beneath the glass ceiling. It formed with a slow, twisting coil of gray clouds, swirling and darkening until it looked like a small thunderhead had been born inside the room. A flicker of lightning illuminated the inside of the cloud. The first drops of rain splattered down in a gentle, controlled shower, falling perfectly on the plants below.
Storm's beautiful face split into a small smile, the kind she normally reserved for herself. She made a subtle gesture with her wrist, and the rain shifted direction, watering a bank of delicate purple orchids. Harry could see the droplets streaking down the glass walls, each one refracting sunlight into a rainbow.
He tried to step back and give her privacy, but his foot caught a garden hoe hidden in the gravel. It fiercely swung up like a billy club and womped him right in the back of the head with a loud thunk. Harry winced and grabbed the back of his head. Storm's head whipped around, and she saw him instantly. Her eyes narrowed, and a grin spread slowly across her lips.
"Did you sneak in here because you're a lover of plants, or were you just hoping to enjoy the show?" she asked in a soft, amused voice.
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was still seeing stars from the crack on the noggin. He just nodded, his eyes locked on the soaked tank top. The thin fabric clung to her breasts, outlining the perfect shape of them, and her nipples were as hard as marbles. For a second, he wondered if Storm had made it rain just to see how much she could show off.
She lowered her arms, letting the little storm dissipate. The rain stopped, and the last drops pattered to silence. She walked toward him with a rolling, panther-like stride, every step emphasizing the softness of her bare thighs. The shorts rode higher with every movement, and the line of her hips made Harry's throat go dry. He dared to look down a bit further, and the crotch of his trousers tightened when he saw the shape of her pussy pressing against the skin-tight spandex.
Storm stopped two feet away and planted her hands on her hips. "You do know it's polite to knock before entering someone's private space, yes?" she teased, not bothering to hide her womanly form.
Harry tried to look away, but his eyes wouldn't cooperate. "Sorry," he managed, though it came out more like a question than an apology.
Storm looked him over. Her eyes traveled up and down before lingering at his crotch, which betrayed exactly what he was thinking about. "If you're going to stare, at least have the courage to do it properly," she said. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts and adjusted them, giving him a little extra view of her belly and the smooth skin just above her mound.
Harry's mind nearly malfunctioned. "You're, uh, really good at that," he said, pointing to where the rain had stopped. Harry averted his eyes from her body. He didn't want her to think he was some kind of raging pervert.
Storm arched one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows. "Thank you, Harry. I've had some practice." She stepped closer, and she was now close enough that he could smell the citrus on her skin. Storm ran a hand through her wet hair and squeezed out the water so it trickled down her back.
She walked a slow circle around him with her arms folded under her chest, pushing her tits up and together. Self-conscious wasn't a word Harry would use to describe this sexy beast. She leaned in and whispered, "You should see what I can do with a full-scale weather front. The rain is usually much, much colder," she teased, and Harry couldn't stop himself from glancing at her stiff nipples and goosebumped skin.
Harry shivered, despite the heat and humidity. Storm smirked and leaned back, resting against a wide table littered with gardening tools and pots of soil. She cocked her hip to one side and crossed her legs at the ankle, perfectly poised and totally at ease. "You're up early," she said, letting her gaze rake over him again.
"I couldn't sleep," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "For some reason, I don't need much sleep these days."
"It probably has something to do with your powers," she guessed. "Or maybe just too many hormones. Did you need something, or are you just here to ogle?"
Harry looked her in the eye and said, "Mostly to ogle." He felt his cheeks burn, but he didn't flinch.
Storm laughed, and the sound was bright and surprisingly warm. "Honesty. That's a first," she said. "I can respect that." She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, and her cleavage deepened into a perfect V. She didn't seem embarrassed. If anything, she looked proud of the effect she was having on him. She was a very attractive woman, and she knew it.
She picked up a little spray bottle and misted her arms and chest, letting the water bead and run in little rivulets between her breasts. Harry could understand why she kept the bottle there. It was stiffling hot in her greenhouse. Sweat was dripping down his cheeks, stomach, and back. She took her time and smoothed the drops over her skin, her fingers gliding across her collarbone and down into the hollow between her tits. Harry watched, mesmerized by the erotic sight.
"You know," Storm said, "if you want, you can help me water the plants. Unless you're afraid of a little rain."
Harry smiled, and the tension broke for a moment. "When you're dressed like that, I'll water anything you want."
Storm's laugh was throaty. "Brave boy." She handed him a battered green watering can, fingers brushing his hand a little longer than necessary. "Start with the orchids. They're thirsty."
Harry took the can and bent over the orchids, soaking the soil with a trembling hand. He could feel Storm's eyes on him the entire time. They spent the time chatting, and Harry told her about how he usually spent his mornings trying to hone his powers. Storm said that that was a great use of his free time.
When he straightened up, she was leaning on the table again, watching him through half-lidded eyes. Her tank top had gone nearly transparent, and every curve of her body was outlined against the damp fabric. He walked over to her, holding the empty can. "Do you need me to hose anything else down?" he said, as cocky as he could manage.
She looked at him with an amused smile. "You're going to fit in here just fine, Harry," she said. Her voice dropped, suddenly sounding serious. "But you should know … there are people here who'll want you to pick a side." She tipped her chin up, and her eyes seemed a bit challenging. "Just don't forget what you want for yourself."
Harry nodded, and for a second, the air between them was thick with more than humidity. Then Storm pushed off the table and walked past him, brushing his arm with her fingertips as she did. The heat of her touch lingered long after she was gone.
She reached the door, then turned back. "Why don't you come back tomorrow morning? I could use some help in here." She smiled prettily, and then she vanished into the sunlit morning, her ass swaying with every step.
Harry watched her go, and the image of her wet body was burned into his mind. He stood alone in the steamy air, not sure if he'd just been seduced or not. Either way, he planned to come back tomorrow, just as she requested.
Magical Mutations
Night bled all color from the city except for the neon signs flickering on and off. Harry walked down the middle of the street, and his clunking boots echoed off the boarded-up shopfronts and empty bus shelters. The only things moving were rats scurrying in and out of gutters and a pair of lean, stripe-furred cats flipping a dumpster lid. Harry's ears caught every scratch and scrape, and every shuffle of wind across asphalt. Even the flickering buzz of a failing streetlamp made his nerves coil tighter.
He kept his hands in his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched, and his pace loose but alert. His eyes tracked every shadow and every window, watching for the first break in the monotony. He was always ready for anything.
A car alarm blared four blocks away and then cut off. Harry paused, stared down at a patch of broken glass reflecting the street lamp's sickly orange color. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. It was quiet again. That's when the energy blast came.
A ruby red beam streaked from a rooftop and slashed through the night. Harry barely ducked. He flung himself sideways, hands out, and a polished rectangular mirror shimmered into existence above him, refracting the beam. The reflected blast lanced upward and blew out three stories' worth of brickwork with a thunderous crack. Chunks of rubble crashed into the road, pelting the street in a storm of masonry.
Harry crouched, his heart beating like a jackhammer. He flicked his hand, and the mirror vanished, evaporated into mist. On the rooftop, something moved. It was a human shape vaguely silhouetted against the dark sky. It was hunched low and tracking Harry's movements. The next blast of energy was already shrieking his way. This time, he didn't block. He moved.
He sprinted low, diving behind a rusted van. The beam hit the side panel and melted a fist-sized hole through the steel. Molten metal sizzled and drooled onto the curb. Harry kept his head down, rolled out the far side, and bolted for the next block.
A shadow fell across the street. Harry glanced up and saw something appear above him. It hovered for a half-second, then dropped. An entire garbage dumpster flipped end over end straight at his head.
Harry barely had time to curse. He thrust his hand up with his palm open. The dumpster stopped in midair, hung there trembling, then twisted and collapsed into itself. In just over a second, it was gone, replaced by a swirling flock of eagles. There were dozens of them, every beak and talon bristling with metallic sharpness. Harry snapped his fingers, and the birds peeled off in a wild, shrieking spiral toward the rooftop.
He heard a feminine yelp, then a loud curse. The eagles went after the attacker in a blinding flurry. Harry didn't stop to watch the carnage. He ducked into a narrow alley, his boots splashing through old puddles and the pungent filth of the city. The birds would slow them down, but it wouldn't be enough to stop them.
He kept moving, only checking over his shoulder once to see if anyone was coming up from behind. The alley twisted and narrowed, blocking almost all light and casting him into deeper darkness.
The wind started to rise. At first, it was only a stiff breeze, but then it grew, swirling down the alley until the trash and rubble began to move with it. Harry heard a low, rumbling groan from above, and then thunder cracked so close to him it made his eardrums pop.
He looked up and saw the storm rolling over the rooftops. Black clouds spun up from nowhere, boiling with pent-up violence. His skin prickled. The air was static-charged, and Harry knew he was in a bad situation. He ran faster, but the wind was against him, snatching at his jacket and tugging him back like invisible fingers. The best he could do was run in a zig-zag pattern.
A flash of light burned through the night. A lightning bolt hit the ground right behind him, obliterating a cluster of trash bins and sending a shockwave up Harry's spine. The blast hurled him into a heap of garbage bags. He landed with a grunt, and the stench of rotting garbage filled his nose. For a moment, all he could do was twitch through the pain as his nerves flared from the sudden electrocution.
He pushed himself up, shook off the pain, and stumbled forward. The storm was everywhere now. Torrential rain blasted sideways in sheets of water that stung his face and blinded him. Harry snapped his fingers, and a transparent field surrounded him, blocking the rain. He saw another figure at the mouth of the alley. She was tall, slender, and shapely, with a mane of white hair whipping in the wind. He recognized her instantly, but didn't have time to shout a curse at her. A second bolt of lightning came down, aimed straight for his skull.
He threw his arm up, conjured a rod of copper, and the lightning forked into it with a deafening snap. The rod took the hit, but the force knocked Harry to his knees. His muscles seized, and he lost feeling in his left hand for a second. He used his powers to banish the superheated rod at the attacker. It spun through the air, still crackling with energy, and struck the ground at their feet. The figure leaped back, but Harry caught a glimpse of familiar blue eyes.
"Storm! I'm gonna shove that rod straight up your ass if you keep trying to fry me!" he yelled, but it was lost in the gale.
He staggered out of the alley and into a wider boulevard. Rain lashed the glass and steel, pooling in the gutters. Lightning flashed in the distance, and Harry spotted someone on the roof of a building, three stories up. Harry instantly knew it was Storm again. He could recognize that curvy body with his eyes closed. This time, she had company. A red-haired woman in black was perched next to her like a vulture. Harry recognized the shape of her telekinetic aura as it glimmered around her fingers.
He tried to think and predict the next attack, but his head was still swimming from the constant electric shocks. The white-haired bombshell was closing in, and the curvy redhead was lining up another shot.
Harry ducked behind a bus shelter as the next beam of ruby energy shattered the plexiglass, atomizing it in a cloud of burning debris. He felt the heat on his skin and forced himself forward, sprinting for the last block before his destination. He could see it now. The city's police station loomed ahead.
He reached the street's end and was met by another attacker. This one was in full tactical armor with a helmet, and Harry saw the glint of metal claws. The figure slashed at him with a snarl, and Harry barely dodged. The claws raked his shoulder, sliced fabric, and drew a line of red. Harry responded by using his powers to rip a stop sight straight from the concrete. Harry then flung it straight at the blade-wielding maniac. The concreted base of the sign connected with the helmet and rang like a gong. His body ragdolled off the sidewalk and crashed through a glass shop window.
Another blast came down from the rooftop. Harry dove for cover and felt the heat of the shot burn through the sleeve of his jacket. He hit the ground, rolled, and looked up to see the police station only fifty yards away, but the final assault team was already between him and safety. Harry threw his hand out and fired a powerful concussive blast at the building his attacker was standing on. The blast hit with the force of a bomb, and the entire front face of the building broke away and slid down like a waterfall of bricks and debris. Scott, of course, rode that wave down and hit the street hard.
The attacker pushed himself to his feet and staggered. Harry ran forward and waved his hand at the ground. The sidewalk rippled, and the liquified concrete snaked out and grabbed the attacker's ankle. With a twist of his wrist, the liquified pavement sucked the attacker's feet in and hardened, trapping them in place.
He was outnumbered, outgunned, and running on empty. It was time to improvise.
Harry drew in a breath, gathered all the pain, adrenaline, and annoyance, and funneled it into his palm. He fired a golf-ball-sized orb of pulsing blue energy straight up. The orb exploded into a superdense black cloud, blowing thick, dark smoke over the block. Instantly, the attackers' vision went, and their coughs filled the air.
Harry ran for it. He barreled through the doors of the station, slammed them behind him, and slid to a stop inside the atrium. Everything was quiet again, except for his own heartbeat, his labored breathing, and the patter of rain on the roof. He leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. He'd made it.
The world shimmered, the walls flickered, and suddenly the grimy station melted into steel, chrome, and light. Harry blinked, feeling slightly disoriented. He was back in the Danger Room.
Storm, Jean, and Scott stood at the far wall, coughing as they waved away the last of the acrid smoke. Logan stood beside them, arms folded across his barrel chest. His face was pulled into a wolfish grin.
"Not bad, kid," Logan rumbled. "You made the rendezvous with thirty-two seconds to spare."
Jean wiped soot off her cheek and laughed. "I told you he'd try the eagles thing again."
"It worked, didn't it?" Harry said with a smirk.
Storm clapped once. "Very resourceful. Next time, try to keep your head lower when you cross open ground. But excellent reaction with the mirror."
Scott, who still looked annoyed at being stuck in the pavement trap, just grunted. "You're supposed to get past us, not leave us buried, Harry."
Harry shrugged, wincing as he touched the cut on his shoulder. "If you can't beat 'em, cheat."
Logan snorted, which was the closest he got to approval. "Take five, all of you. Next run's in ten. This time it's Summer's turn. I think I'll turn up the difficulty."
Harry's arm was captured by Jean, who pulled him away to grab a quick snack. She yapped away about all the things she would do differently on her next run. All Harry could do was listen, agree, and try not to pop an erection as she rubbed herself against him.
Chapter 9
Bayville High buzzed with the usual pre-lunch commotion. Every corridor was jammed with jocks, goths, band kids, and a dozen other groups, all of them ducking and weaving between each other with years of practiced choreography. Harry stood at his locker, twirling the dial and trying to remember the combination. His mind was already wandering and chewing over Storm's words from the previous day. It was a warning to pick his own side rather than just go along with everyone else.
Harry jammed his book into his locker and stepped back when someone slammed into his back. He spun, half expecting a football goon, but it was Kurt. The other boy toothily grinned. His skin looked peachy, and his hair was black. It was all thanks to the holographic projector Professor Xavier had insisted he wear. "Mein Gott, you nearly broke my nose!" Kurt said, rubbing his face and giggling.
Harry snorted. "I didn't hear you coming, mate. What's got you so worked up?"
Kurt quickly glanced over each shoulder. "Downstairs, by the freshmen lockers. Jean and her boyfriend are … how do you say it … going nuclear." He mimed an explosion with his hands, then let his arms go limp. "You should see it. It is better than TV."
Harry heard a clatter of shouts and laughter from the stairwell. Harry slammed the locker closed and followed Kurt. They slipped through a group of cheerleaders and barreled down the next flight. At the landing, Harry spotted the crowd. They gathered in a half-ring around the lockers. There was Duncan flexing his jaw as he sneered at Jean.
Jean had him cornered. She stood straight, feet planted and hands on her hips. She looked ready to smack him right across the head. Her red hair was perfectly braided, and a red flush had crept into her cheeks. Harry could see her clench and unclench her fists. She shouted, "You don't get to talk to people that way. You don't get to be a jackass just because you can throw a ball fifty yards."
Duncan shrugged, rolling his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Jean. So what if I roughed up that kid? He had it coming." He jerked a thumb at the floor, where a freshman nursed a bloody nose and tried to look invisible.
"Bullshit!" Jean's voice snapped back. "You're just an asshole, Duncan, and I'm done pretending you're anything but." She moved closer, lowering her voice, but Harry still caught every syllable. "Either you apologize and grow up, or we're finished. For real this time."
Duncan laughed loudly. He looked around to see who was watching, then leaned in. "Go ahead. Break up with me. I was gonna dump you next week anyway." He smiled smarmily. "You think I don't have options? Hell, I'm already talking to someone who doesn't bitch every five minutes."
Jean's jaw clicked shut, and her breath hissed between her teeth. Every muscle in her arms went rigid. "You're lying," she whispered, but her hands trembled.
"Try me," Duncan said, not flinching.
A sound started at the end of the row. It was a soft rattle, and then every locker on the wall began to shake. The metal doors began to rattle loudly against their frames, and the floor vibrated beneath their feet. A cheerleader shrieked, and then there were three dozen kids stampeding for the stairwell, yelling that it was an earthquake. Harry watched as a Coke can wobbled off a ledge and bounced, spraying foam everywhere.
Kurt whistled. "She is pissed," he said, tugging Harry's sleeve. "You should talk to her before she melts the school."
"She can handle herself. But I'll step in if it looks like she's losing control," Harry replied. But as he said it, Duncan squared up and gripped Jean's arm, trying to shove her aside. Her eyes narrowed in a way that told Harry she was none too pleased.
The vibration doubled, and lockers were now buckling inwards with a tortured metallic shriek. Fluorescent bulbs overhead popped, one after the other. Duncan let go and staggered, suddenly afraid. Jean raised her voice, but it was shaky. "You lay a finger on me again, and I'll make sure your next team photo is taken through a hospital window."
Duncan tried to look tough, but he had nothing left. He shouldered past, barking "Freak!" as he went. Jean stood there frozen, her chest heaving.
Harry walked up, ignoring the few kids still watching from the shadows. "Are you alright?"
She jerked her head up, and for a second, Harry thought she'd deck him. But luckily, her eyes softened, and her fists loosened. "I almost lost it," she said in a barely audible voice.
He glanced at the nearest locker. The metal was warped in a perfect fist-sized dent, right at head level. "You didn't, though. That's what counts." He smiled. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Jean nodded, her entire body trembling. She tried to say something else, but the words failed to come out. He put a hand on her shoulder, steering her away from the ruined lockers and into a side corridor. The vibration was fading, but Harry could still feel it under his skin. They ducked into an empty classroom, and the door shut behind them.
"Sit," Harry said, pulling out a chair. She collapsed into it and put her face in her hands. Harry didn't bother with a pep talk. He just stood beside her until her breathing evened out.
She spoke first, still not looking up. "I was going to kill him. Not on purpose, but …" Her voice cracked. "He made me so angry. I couldn't control it."
Harry crouched so they were eye level. "You controlled it enough. You stopped yourself from hurting anyone, and that's all that matters."
She shook her head, not buying it. "He's not worth it," she finally said, and the last bit of tension bled out of her posture. "He never was."
A crash echoed from down the hall, probably a teacher opening a stuck door. Sirens started up outside, and the building's fire alarm wailed to life. Harry rubbed her arm. "We should go," he said. Jean looked up, and a single tear ran down the edge of her cheek. Harry wiped it away with his thumb. "Let's get you home," he said.
She nodded, rising to her feet. "Can you do that teleport thing?" Her voice was a little wobbly, but steady enough.
"Yeah. Just hang on." He took her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his. They vanished in a ball of fire, leaving behind a bunch of confused and scared people
They appeared in the room with a burst of fire. Jean's bedroom was lit by golden late-morning sun and smelled faintly of the perfume she was wearing. Harry nearly tripped over a pair of running shoes on the floor, and Jean sagged forward, still holding his hand.
She let go and stumbled to the bed, collapsing in a messy heap. "Never again," she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I'm never going back to that hellhole."
Harry chuckled and stood by the window, watching her. He knew she didn't really mean that. She would likely be back in class by tomorrow. A calm voice filled his head, startling him. "Jean. Harry. I would appreciate an explanation." Xavier's psychic touch was polite, but it left a cold residue behind. Jean groaned.
Harry turned to her. "Do you want me to …?"
"No," she cut in, her voice shaking. "I'll do it."
She closed her eyes. Harry guessed she was projecting, because a second later, Xavier's mental voice returned, gentler this time. "Thank you for being honest, Jean. No harm was done. I'll make a donation to the school to fix any damage, and I'll erase the memories of anyone who saw more than they should have. Take the rest of the day to recover." The link faded, and for a second, the only sound was the air conditioner clicking on.
Jean rolled onto her back, stared at the ceiling, and groaned again. "I'm an idiot."
He sat at the edge of her bed and looked at her. "You're not. Duncan's a sack of garbage, and everyone knows it." He shrugged with a small smile on his lips. "You could have cracked his skull, but you didn't."
Jean dragged a hand over her face, wiping at her eyes. "I nearly broke the hallway in half." Her voice was small but surprisingly loud. "What if I'd gone off on him for real?"
Harry shook his head and patted her jean-clad thigh. "If anyone had it coming, it was him."
She let out a weird half-laugh, half-sob. "That's not how it's supposed to work."
He looked at her, waiting for the rest. Jean finally rolled over and met his eyes. Her face was a little pale, but she had a fierce look in her eyes. "I could have fried every circuit in his brain. I saw it happening in my head. For a second, I wanted it to happen."
Harry didn't flinch. "But you didn't. That's the difference. And if you had gone overboard, I was there to help bring you back to reality." Jean looked at him, smiled softly, and nodded. "You want to go for a walk?" he asked.
Jean looked like she might say no, but instead, she nodded. "Yeah. It's better than rotting up here." She sat up and wiped her nose, then gave him a thin smile.
They walked out the back of the mansion and down a stone path toward the lake. There were birds chirping, and every breeze set off a million tiny ripples on the water. Jean walked with her arms crossed and her head down, but Harry made sure to keep pace at her side.
They hit the little dock at the water's edge, and Jean stopped, stared at the sun-lit surface, and let out a long, shaky sigh. "I can't stop thinking about it," she said. "Sometimes I think I'm better than everyone, and sometimes I feel like a freak. Duncan made me like both were true."
Harry hooked his thumbs in his pockets. "He's a loser. Why'd you ever put up with him?"
Jean shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I thought I was supposed to. I'm the most popular girl, and he's the most popular guy." She rolled her eyes at her own words. "I know that's pretty shallow."
Harry squinted at the lake. "I suppose so," he said. "But at least you now know what kind of a guy he really is." He gently nudged her with his shoulder.
There was a lull as the wind ticked through the reeds. Harry watched a dragonfly land on Jean's shoe, and she stared at it for a moment before it flew away. After a minute, Harry broke the quiet. "You want to forget about Duncan for a while?"
Jean looked over, wary but curious. "And do what?"
He grinned. "Go swimming?"
Jean blinked in confusion, then laughed. "Are you serious?"
Harry kicked off his shoes, already at the edge. "Why not?"
Jean rolled her eyes, then peeled off her sweatshirt. Underneath, her arms and shoulders looked strong and steady again. She kicked her sneakers into the grass, then stood at the edge of the dock. "It's cold," she warned.
He looked at her. "Don't tell me you're scared?"
"Of course not."
"Go, then."
She jumped first, her arms flailing. Harry followed half a second later. The water was icy, and Harry gasped when he popped back up to the surface of the water. Jean came up sputtering with her hair slicked back and her mouth wide open in surprise. She shrieked, "You maniac! It's like the Arctic!"
Harry laughed so hard he swallowed some of the water. She splashed him, and he splashed her back, until both were breathless and raw-throated from laughing and yelling.
They swam until their fingers went numb. They climbed out, shivering, and sat side by side on the dock, dripping wet and happy. Harry waved his hand, and their clothes and bodies were instantly dry with a puff of steam. Jean shuddered from the sudden warmth. Jean leaned into him, her cheek against his arm. "Thanks for being there for me," she said.
"Anytime," he told her, wrapping an arm around her back.
They sat there talking for a while before Jean stretched her arms overhead and looked at him with a bright, devilish grin. "I'm starving. I'll race you to the kitchen?"
Harry stood with a smile. "Loser cleans up."
Jean didn't bother answering. She sprinted up the path, her hair flying behind her, and Harry ran to catch her. Harry grabbed her around the waist and pulled her behind him. Jean cried foul and jammed her hand into his back pocket, refusing to let him gain a further lead.
Magical Mutations
The next morning at Bayville High, Harry watched everything play out with an amused detachment. The school was back to its usual chaos. The locker hallway where Jean nearly dented Duncan's head had already been hammered straight by maintenance. The freshman who took Duncan's punch was now threatening a civil lawsuit against the bully and his friends, which had Duncan feeling extra salty.
Jean was different, too. She greeted Harry with a fierce hug that morning, and from that moment, she stuck so close to him that people thought they were glued together. In every class they shared, Jean picked the desk right next to him, which made all the whisperers and gawkers go into a frenzy. She didn't care, though. Harry certainly didn't either. He liked the way she leaned her elbow on his desk during boring lectures, or the way she passed him notes with sarcastic jokes written in blue gel pen.
Kitty sat with them at lunch, eating from a Tupperware container and making nervous small talk, but by the end of the period, she was giggling and tossing tater tots at Harry's head. It was turning into a full social circle that Harry was really starting to enjoy.
It was a pleasant day until the last bell rang. The halls went ballistic, and the student body stampeded for the exits like the entire building had gone up in flames. Harry, Jean, and Kitty made it out ahead of the crowd, walking the path toward the back lot. Harry carried his backpack over one shoulder, and Jean had her arm threaded through his. Kitty, who was still new to Bayville High, couldn't stop jabbering about all the new people she had met.
They rounded the bend and entered the lot, where the sun gleamed off a sea of windshields and dusty car paint. There were already dozens of students loitering around, trying to look cool or kill time before they could escape.
That's when Harry spotted it. Duncan's convertible Mustang was gleaming in the sun as if it were posing for a glamour shot. The top was down, the leather seats were oiled, and the paint was heavily waxed. Even the dashboard looked like it had been cleaned that morning. Harry's lips split into an evil smile. He dropped Jean's arm and clapped Kitty on the back. "Give me a second," he said. "I have to water the roses."
Kitty blinked in confusion, not quite catching the idiom. Jean's lips pursed, and she shook her head, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Harry, don't …" she said, but he was already gone, striding across the lot with a relaxed swagger. He walked right up to Duncan's car and stood near the driver's side door.
Kitty turned to Jean with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Is he really …?"
"He is," Jean replied, grinning despite herself. She shook her head again, this time with genuine amusement.
Harry scanned the lot for any witnesses. Two freshmen were playing hacky sack near the dumpster. Three cheerleaders argued by the curb, their phones glued to their hands. Duncan and his friends were nowhere in sight. Perfect.
Harry unzipped, glanced left and right, and let loose into the open driver's side. The arc was impressive. He hit the seat, the wheel, the stereo, and even got a little splash on the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. He shook out the last few drops, zipped up, and hustled back to the girls before anyone noticed.
He barely made it back before the giggling started. Jean had her hands on her hips, and she huffed loudly, but the slight smile on her pretty face betrayed her. Kitty just gaped with her hand over her mouth to try to stifle the giggles.
"Did you really just …" Kitty tried to finish the sentence, but broke off in a fit of snickers.
Jean shook her head at him. "You're the world's biggest child, you know that?" she said, but she didn't sound angry.
Harry shrugged with a smirk. "He had it coming for what he did to you. Besides, everyone else is too scared of him to put him in his place, and the teachers never do anything to stop him."
Kitty wiped her eyes, still breathless. "You're such an idiot," she said and then burst into giggles again.
They crossed to the curb and waited for Scott, who was always slow coming out of the science building. Jean glanced at Harry and rested her butt against the fender of Scott's car. She shook her head for the third time. "You know, you're just lucky I think you're cute."
He chuckled and stood in front of her. "Is that why you keep following me around?"
She bopped him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "Maybe."
Across the lot, the door to the gym swung open, and a clump of athletes appeared. Duncan led the pack, followed by his goons. His walk was the exaggerated swagger of someone desperate to impress, but it was hard to look cool in a letterman jacket that didn't fit right. Over the day, Harry had been using his powers to make the jacket smaller and smaller every time he was near Duncan. By the end of the day, the sleeves were above his wrists. He didn't see Harry or the girls as he headed straight for his car.
The girls watched and waited. Harry pretended to be looking through his backpack, but he kept his peripheral vision locked on the Mustang.
Duncan tossed his gym bag into the back seat. He slid into the driver's seat and froze. For a second, nothing happened. Then he yanked his hands off the wheel and stared at them, horrified. They were dripping wet. He bent down and sniffed the seat, then jerked up so fast he hit his head on the visor.
Duncan's face twisted in horror and rage. "WHAT THE FUCK! IT HAPPENED AGAIN!" he screamed, loud enough to set off a ripple of laughter through the lot. His friends crowded around to see. When the realization dawned, they all began to howl with laughter. Even the freshmen at the dumpster caught on, and someone in the crowd shouted, "The Pissing Bandit strikes again!"
Kitty started giggling so hard she nearly fell over. Jean lost her composure and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. She gripped Harry's sleeve for support, wheezing out, "You're terrible, you know that? You're an absolute heathen."
Harry chortled in amusement. "All in a day's work, ladies."
Duncan, now beet-red and dripping urine onto the parking lot, launched into a screaming fit. He pounded the seat, cursed, and threatened murder on whoever did it. One of the cheerleaders pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the tantrum.
Scott finally showed up, scanning the scene with his usual unreadable calm. He slid up next to the trio and nodded at Harry. "Again?" he asked, with a perfectly straight face.
Harry smirked. "He deserved it."
"No doubt," Scott chuckled.
Jean wiped her eyes and grinned at Scott. "We're ready to go whenever you are."
Kitty, still trembling with laughter, managed to ask, "Is this, like, a regular thing for you guys?"
Jean, with a mischievous gleam, answered. "It's fast becoming a tradition."
The four of them got into Scott's car. Harry held the door for the girls, then slid into the back seat. As they pulled away, the last thing he saw was Duncan's friends still laughing at him as he threatened everyone around him. Duncan, finally losing the last of his sanity, screamed and kicked the door of his car, leaving a huge dent in it. Harry laughed as they drove away.