The fire was a roaring blaze now, lighting up the clearing like dawn, and he knew Maddie's time was running out, if it wasn't all gone already. But he knew she wasn't dead yet, as Steve was still arguing with her.

But the next vampire was smart.  He didn't get close, he simply threw a knife, which Logan saw as a blur in the corner of his eye, but couldn't react fast enough to slice it in mid-air. So it imbedded itself in his neck.

It was a damn good shot. Not only did it hurt stabbing through his flesh, but the fall backwards was genuine; for a second he couldn't breathe, and he could feel the blood pouring down his neck. Only then did he realize his blood smelled funny, kind of sour. He was attacked by something that kind of smelled like that earlier, right?

He closed his eyes and played mortally wounded, aware that vampires could smell death as well as he could - there'd be no bluffing them there. Two approached, but stayed out of slashing distance. To make it more realistic, he had retracted his claws.

"I can't believe he'd still be goin' after a Rhedoc got him," one of them said. He sounded like he was from Louisiana.

"I didn't even know Rhedoc's came this far North," his friend said. He sounded like a West Coaster, maybe Californian.

"You know, we coulda made it work!" Steve shouted at the house. Logan didn't know if he was a bad liar before the vamping, or if it was just an effect of being a vampire.

The Laurel and Hardy of vampdom moved closer, and he knew now they were in range. The blood flow had slowed from his neck, but it hadn't quite healed up yet. Was it because he still had the knife in his throat?

"Just get the stupid bitch! " Bayou Boy shouted to Steve, and that's when Logan forced himself to move.

He popped his claws on his left hand and stabbed the nearest one straight through the leg. As he screamed in pain, Logan screamed as well, the pain of making his right arm move, and pulled the knife out of his throat. The Bayou vampire lunged for him, and Logan, still on the ground, threw  the knife.

In spite of the fact that California boy kicked him in the face with his working foot, he saw the knife hit home, straight into Bayou Boy's right eye. He made a sort of horrified gasp, and screamed, "My fucking eye!" Logan ripped his claws out of California Boy's leg, and he stumbled back, stepped on his now injured leg incorrectly, and yelped in pain as he fell back on his ass.

Logan sat up and rode out another devastating head rush as Bayou Boy made several noises just short of a gag as he pulled the knife from his eye socket, and he moaned, "There's Rhedoc tainted blood on this thing!"

Rhedocs affected vampires too? Poor fucking baby.

"Don't you die? Are you immortal?" California Boy asked, exasperated, as he started dragging himself away by his hands, dragging his butt and his legs across the ground.

"I'm the avatar for the Drai'Shajan," he said, and he had no idea if that was true, or what that meant. But he knew instinctively it would end the fight now.

It pretty much did. California Boy stared at him in wide eyed fear, and Bayou Boy, who was trying to shove the ruins of his eye back in their socket, said, "What the fuck is that?"

"Oh holy shit. Steve, we should abort now!" California Boy shouted. "The Drai'Shajan knows we want to free Qanlon!"

Logan was sure that was important, but it was so much gibberish to him now.

"What the fuck's a Drai'Shajan?!" Steve shouted back, as much an ignorant shithead as Bayou Boy.

Cali Boy had reached the edge of the clearing, and used a tree to pull himself to his feet. He didn't look well, but he seemed more frightened than hurt. "A thing that could kill us just by showing up! If this mutie's really acting as his avatar, we can't kill him - fuck, we probably can't even hurt him!"

"He's Rhedoc tainted!" Bayou Boy pointed out. He had his hand clamped firmly over his right eye, as if trying to hold it in, in spite of the blood and vitreous humor now streaking that side of his face. He seemed to be unsteady on his feet, and he wondered if some of that Rhedoc shit was setting in. It must have had a straight shot to the brain. Whatever there was of it.

"That could be a cover, you moron! Fuck the rest of you, I'm outta here!" And with that, Cali Boy limped off into the woods. After glaring at him with his one eye, Bayou Boy snarled at him and threw the knife, but Logan knew without even moving a muscle that it was going to miss. It thunked into the dirt beside him as the one eyed vamp followed his smarter friend into the woods. The Canadian and the Latina also looked like they now thought better of this whole thing, and both being lame and unable to stand up straight at this point, what else could they do?

Only Steve was left, and he was too stupid to leave. Logan saw him approaching, but couldn't move fast enough - he couldn't bounce to his feet, nor avoid the flaming tree branch swung at his head. "I don't care if yer Arakis herself," he snapped, as the branch impacted with his skull. It was thick enough that it cracked on impact but didn't break, and his fist layer of skin burnt off on his forehead, and he could smell charred hair. But he was in so much pain right now, Steve couldn't possibly hurt him any more; crawling back into the flames actually sounded like a wonderful idea right now. "You ain't stopping me now, freak!"

As he took a batting stance and swung a second time, Logan was able to get a claw up to meet it, and the blazing branch was sliced neatly in half, its flaming first half flying off into the trees behind him. He tried to move his right arm to stab him, but it seemed to lock up completely and refuse his commands.

Steve looked down at him, holding the half a branch like a spear, leering at him like easy prey. "Congrats for scaring the others off, but I ain't that dumb, freak-o. You're in pretty sad shape, you know. Almost too easy to kill."

"You're the dumbest man I know!" Maddie shouted, jabbing the stake at Steve's back.

But she didn't jab hard enough, and she was a little too far to the right anyways; Logan was pretty sure it didn't even scrape his skin.

He spun on his heels, knocking her stake away, and grabbed her by the throat, tossing the pointless tree branch into the fire. "I'm not in the ground two weeks and you already got yourself a fuck buddy - and an ugly, mutie fuck buddy at that."

She tried to respond, but could only squeak. Steve had her so tight by the throat he was lifting her up; her toes were barely scraping the ground. Sitting up caused another head rush he had to ride out; he just wasn't doing well. Time was running out.

Maddie tried to kick him, but that only made Steve laugh. The fact that she was an ex probably made killing her icing on the cake. "Now, I could give you the chance to hand it over, but where's the fun in that?"

Logan made himself stand, and he knew, since he was down to time on how long he'd be conscious, that the time for fucking around was over. He simply lopped off Steve's arm at the shoulder, and since it was the one that had Maddie in a chokehold, they both hit the ground. Before Steve could react at all, he punched his left claws through Steve's left shoulder, and forced his right hand to grab him by the back of his neck. He could move it a little easier if he was upright. "Now listen to me, bub," he snarled in his ear. "I'm gonna lop off all your limbs and leave you as the Human torso, to either get burned by the flames or by the sun, if your vamp pals don't come back for ya and decide to keep you in their trunk as a pet. You got five seconds to talk, Black Knight, or the left arm goes. I'll then take off your legs, and your dick, if Maddie has a microscope on her - "

"Okay, okay!" He shouted, nearly hysterical, looking down at his arm forlornly. That was probably his wanking hand. "Fuck, what do you want me to say?"

"What the fuck is the Dragon's Eye and why do you want it?"

"The demon lord Qanlon was imprisoned as a statue by these fucking witches. The key to setting him free is the Dragon's Eye-he promised us immortality if we freed him."

"I thought you vamps were immortal," he grumbled, thinking aloud, but them he figured it out before Steve could tell him. "Oh, wait-really immortal? As in unkillable, even by wood and sunlight?"

He nodded frantically, but stopped as soon as he realized the movement was making his shoulder hurt. Maddie was on her feet, grabbing her throat but otherwise looking okay. "You really that afraid to die, Steve?" Logan growled in his ear. "You're already dead."

And although it took a great effort on his part, he managed to pop the claws of his right hand, which plunged straight through Steve's neck. He only had to pull his dead hand aside to decapitate him, and Steve exploded into a pillar of dust. Maddie stared at him all the way through it, rubbing her reddening neck. "When he said witches he didn't mean Wiccans, did he?" She asked, her voice raspy and hoarse.

He shrugged, but with his left shoulder only. He had his hips locked so he wouldn't collapse face first in Steve dust. "Prob'ly not, no."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy."

She scowled at him. Not a fan of sarcasm, then.

"We oughta get out of here before this becomes a forest fire." In spite of the howling winds and pelting rain, the house was completely engulfed, and the fire showed no sign of dying down any time soon.

She looked back, and he knew she was shocked and baffled and probably suffering from minor smoke inhalation, but he had to get her to focus, because he didn't know how much longer he could hang on. "Yeah. I have to get you to a hospital."

"I don't need a hospital," he pointed out, but he couldn't blame her if she wasn't listening to him.

She seemed to get that he couldn't walk out under his own steam, so she came up to him and draped his left arm around her shoulders. He wanted to protest, but didn't dare, because he wasn't sure he could walk on his own. She smelled like pine smoke.

He tried not to lean too heavily on her as they made their way back to her car, which looked like the vamps had gone through it, but they hadn't bothered to make it any worse, probably because they figured they were dead anyways. As she helped him into the car, he pointed out, "Back tire's still blown."

She shrugged. "I don't care- I just want to get the fuck out of here."

He had to agree with her there.

She backed them out, although it was a hellaciously rough ride, and once they were back on the road, he could hear the rim of the blown wheel grinding pavement and spitting sparks. It was a good thing she wasn't leaking gas. "Do you think they were inferring my grandmother was a witch?" She wondered.

"Maybe. Don't know." He could feel the weight of his body now, the heavy adamantium weighing down his bones, stretching his muscles to their breaking point, binding him hard to gravity. He wondered if he ever felt any different. "I wouldn't worry about it."

One hand on the steering wheel, she used the other to unclasp the necklace, and tossed it to him. "Keep it safe. I know you'd do better than me."

"You can keep it, hon. I know a guy who'll make sure Qanlon stays frozen forever, Eye or no Eye." Logan instantly wondered who that guy was.

"I'm sure, but I think I'd feel better never seeing that thing ever again."

Very slowly, he realized he never told her it was the necklace. "You figured it out."

"Well, it was kind of obvious, wasn't it?"

"It's an heirloom."

"That almost got me killed. Take it."

He made a show of grabbing it, but then let it fall out of his hand to the floor. She might change her mind later,  and if so, she'd find it on the floor of her car. "You don't have to worry about it, you know. As soon as my friend freezes Qanlon, it's just a necklace."

"I know, but I'd rather not have it, ya know?" She then let out a little snort of laughter, and said, "I don't know your name."

"Logan."

"Logan. Thanks." After a brief pause, she asked, "Kill a lot of vampires?"

"It's a hobby." He was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open; his eyelids felt weighted down with lead. But he knew once he kept them shut, he might not be opening them again any time soon.

"You really need a hospital."

"No, I don't. I'm a mutant."

"So?"

"They don't treat us very well." A partial lie; it sort of depended. "And I've had bad experiences with hospitals." That was only a partial lie too. Did a quasi-military hospital count?

"I can't let you bleed to death."

"I gotta friend, Jean, she's a doctor. She'll help me." That just popped into his head. He hoped it was true.

"Where is she? I can drop you off. Once I get a tire."

"New York." Again, he was pretty sure that was true.

She made a negative noise. "Man, how's she gonna help you from there?"

"She's a mutant too. Doesn't matter where I am, she can get to me."

"Oh." It sounded like she wasn't sure if she should believe him or not. What did she know about mutants? "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." No, of course he wasn't - he wasn't sure about anything, except he was reasonably certain that he was dying  in increments; very slowly, at a snail's pace, one inch at a time. The why of it was baffling.

She gave him a dubious glance, but let it go, probably because she'd already figured arguing with him was a losing proposition.

He had no idea how long it was before they hit some sign of civilization; all the bleak black landscape outside the window blurred together, and the fact that he was fighting to stay conscious probably didn't help. Hie right arm no longer hurt; it was now numb and cold, and felt like a hunk of frozen meat stapled to his shoulder. He didn't know if it was still bleeding or not.

But soon they hit the oasis of modern America - the gas station and the convenience store. She drove into the gas station, and as blurry as his vision was, he was pretty sure he saw a pay phone in front of the store. "I'm gonna go over and call," he told her, using his left hand to open the door. "Thanks for the lift."

She scoffed. "Don't thank me. I did you no favors."

He let her have that. Maybe she was right - he didn't really know anymore.

He had to focus and concentrate to move, to stand up, and he had to hang on to the door for a minute, until he was sure he could keep upright and walk. He made it, somehow, but once he reached the phone kiosk he had to lean against it for support as he tried to remember Jean's number. He felt eyes on him, but figured it was Maddie making sure he didn't fall on his face.

He wasn't sure he had any money, but digging deep in his pockets he found some. He wasn't sure he remembered the right number either, but he punched it in, and sat down on the cold cement, leaning against the pay phone for support.

Logan wondered if anyone would answer the phone before he passed out.

11

She would have preferred to be in bed, but medical emergencies took precedence. At least Bobby was okay - all he needed was some fluids ( she put him on an i.v. drip for now ) and a good night's sleep, and he'd be fine.
It was a good thing Scott had gone after them - they must have forgot that there was a GPS transponder in the car they borrowed - although it was troubling as well. The organization was still recruiting mutants by force? And children at that. The Professor was using Cerebro now to try and find the girl who caused the earthquake - what a power to have - and Jean hoped they found her before the Organization did. Scott had said she said something about "not going back there" - what had they done to her?

She shuddered in sympathy. Poor girl. She must have been completely terrified.

"You're still up?" Ororo said, standing in the open doorway of her office.

She looked up, surprised. "I could say the same thing about you." Ororo was wearing a blue peasant style blouse and tan suede pants so tight they looked painted on, as well as several wooden bracelets and beaded necklaces that clacked when she moved. "Have a date?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Who has a personal life around here? No, I went to the Yusef El-Talib concert down at that club in midtown. Remember, I told you about it last week?"

"Oh, right." Actually, she could barely recall it. He was one of those "world" musicians, specializing in some form of music involving obscure instruments and possibly bongos; not unpleasant, but not her type of thing. "How was it?"

"Good. Very relaxing. You do remember what that word means, don't you?"

"Good?"

"Relaxing."

"That's Norwegian, isn't it?"

Ororo smirked at her lame joke. "At least you're keeping your sense of humor about it. So what's up? Please don't tell me you had a fight with Scott."

She gazed at her curiously, a small frown line forming between her brows. "Why would you think I had a fight with Scott?"

"Well, it's just that you two have been - " She tapered off at the look Jean was giving her, and said instead, "So what's up?"

Jean put her cup down on her cluttered desk ( who had time to neaten anything at one in the morning? ), and asked, "What have we two been?"

She looked briefly panicked, and then seemed to recall something that calmed her. "You're in a valley, remember?"

"Oh yes." This was a topic she really wanted to avoid, so - much to Ororo's relief - she informed her of what went on at the illegal rave ( did they call them that anymore? ), and how the search was on for one more hunted mutant. She seemed appropriately sympathetic for the girl and disturbed by the other implications.

"But Bobby's okay?"

"He's fine, just sleeping it off. So is Rogue, although she's sleeping off something completely different."

Ororo grimaced in sympathy. "We all did stupid things at that age."

"Yes, but Rogue seems to be developing a real talent for it."

"Let me guess - Scott is blaming Logan for this."

Jean couldn't help but smile. "How'd you guess?"

"Has the Professor had any luck in locating her?"

"Not yet, but he only just started. Scott is on line now, checking for any seismic activity in - " She was interrupted by the ringing of the phone on her desk. Both she and Ororo stared at it as if expecting it to jump up and bite them. Her phone never rang this late.

Sometimes she could get a sense of who was calling before she picked up the phone, but sometimes she couldn't. Unlike the Professor, who not only knew who was calling but why, she hadn't honed that ability yet, and she didn't think she really needed to. But looking at the phone now she wished she had worked on it - she wasn't getting anything right now.

Reluctantly, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?" Maybe it was a wrong number.

For a moment, there was nothing. No, that wasn't completely true - she heard the distant, sporadic hum of cars driving by on a road, and a tinny howl that could have been the wind. She was just about to give this up as a prank call when she heard a groggy, faint, "Jean?"

It took her a moment to recognize the voice. "Logan?" She instantly knew something was wrong with him - his voice never sounded so weak.

It sounded like he grunted a small laugh. "How 'bout that? I did remember the number."

"What's wrong?" She glanced  up at Ororo, who was now giving her a concerned look. She was probably thinking there was trouble, but not like this.

"I'm - I seem to be hurt." He said it like it was funny, but his voice was so faint it was almost lost in the crackling of static on line.

Her stomach clenched in cold fear. "Your healing factor isn't kicking in?" Now Ororo looked startled, brows raising high on her smooth forehead. Logan put himself in harm's way so much, and so much out of habit, that if he had no healing factor he was as good as dead.

"Naw, I don't think so. I mean, I can't see the bone anymore, but the wound just doesn't seem to be closing. "

She winced, and was glad he couldn't see her face. Only Logan could casually dismiss an exposed bone. "Where is this wound? How big is it? Is it still bleeding?" Ororo was now gripping the door frame, looking pale. Jean felt the same way, but out of habit snapped into professional diagnostic mode. It was just easier that way.

"Uh, it's on my right arm. I think I got it ... I dunno, an hour ago? More or less ... I ain't keepin' track of time so well right now. It hurt like fuck for a long time, but now it's numb. I can't tell if it's bleeding or not, it's kind of a mess. And I can't move it anymore."

She closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. An open wound for almost an hour? If he had severed an artery and his healing ability hadn't kicked in, he'd be dead by now, so she assumed no major blood vessels had been severed or compromised. But nevertheless he must have lost a lot of blood - no wonder he sounded so weak. "Can you get to a hospital, Logan?"

"I ain't goin' to any hospital, Jeannie."

She thought as much. She couldn't blame him really; she wasn't sure they'd ever be able to look past the metal bonded to his skeleton, a virtual medical impossibility. "Where are you?"

He scoffed weakly. "I have no fuckin' clue."

She covered the mouthpiece of the phone, and told Ororo in a rushed whisper, "Go tell the Professor he needs to locate Logan, now. It's an emergency."

She wanted to ask, but she understood now was not the time. She simply nodded and took off for Cerebro at a run.

"I'm so tired." Logan muttered. She could barely hear him.

"I know, but you have to stay awake for me, okay?" He couldn't be dying, could he? But if his healing factor didn't activate, and he had more than one wound ... "Talk to me. What happened? How did you get injured?"

For a moment she heard only white noise, and felt a shock of fear that he had passed out, or worse. But finally - and somewhat painfully - he said, " I can't really remember. I think there was this thing ..."

"Thing?"

"I got somethin' in my system, I think. It's makin' my mind fuzzy. Well, fuzzier."

"So you don't remember what happened?" Okay, this was very bad - his immune system could handle almost any drug, any contagion, any toxin. If it wasn't fighting this off, it was possible the failure of his healing was internal - and widespread.

"Not really, no." He scoffed again. "I'm helpful, ain't I?"

"No, you're doing fine."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a patient in need of coddling. I know what's goin' on here."

She almost asked what, but she knew - even he thought he was dying. But she didn't give up that easily, especially not on a person who normally had the most extraordinary healing gift she had ever seen. "Your arm - is it just numb, or is it paralyzed?"

"I don't know. What's the difference?"

"If you touch your skin on that arm, can you feel it? Can you move your fingers?"

There was a moment of silence,  during which she assumed he was trying to find out. "I can kinda feel it, but I can't move my fingers."

Christ. "Where is the wound? Above your elbow or below? How large is it? I'll assume it's deep."

"It's above the elbow, but it's missed the deltoid nerve cluster, so I don't think that's been affected. And it's about ... four inches long?"

Deltoid nerve cluster? She made a mental note to add that to the list of Logan's peculiarities: sophisticated anatomical knowledge. "And there's been no change since you received it? Except you can no longer see bone and it's numb? And you're sure this is the only wound you have?"

"Yeah ... pretty sure."

She suddenly heard the Professor's voice inside her mind. *Logan is sitting in front of a convenience store in Blackwater, Michigan. He was hard to pinpoint - he's severely injured, isn't he?*

*He seems to be. Something's keeping him from healing.*

*Storm is readying the jet.*

*Thank you.* She went back to Logan. "Storm and I are going to come for you. But I want you to remain where you are, and try and keep conscious. Can you do that?"

"I'll do my best, darlin', but I can't promise anything. I've been upright too long."

"Please, do this for me. We'll be there as fast as we can."

"Yeah." There was a pause before he added, "Thanks," and hung up.

Jean cradled the receiver somewhat reluctantly, and then bolted to her feet and headed for the underground hangar at a run.

She no longer needed coffee to keep her awake.