If he’d screwed this operation up, if the Dark Ones came back because of him—
Scowling, he pushed the useless thought out of his mind. Pick an attack, then execute it with confidence and commitment. That was the only way to win any fight, including this one.
Suddenly he caught a whiff of odor, the same familiar yet altered scent he’d detected at the stable. An instant later, it was gone. Sniffing like a bloodhound, casting about, he finally picked it up again. Evidently Rogue had touched down here for a moment and, leaning, pressed her hand against the red door of an insurance office.
Logan quickly dug out and activated his radio. “I found a patch of Rogue’s scent up here on Wilson Road,” he said. Overhead, lightning blazed, and thunder boomed.
“Acknowledged,” Scott replied. “Okay, people, we’re giving up on the southern ley line. Everyone who’s been searching there, come north.”
Wolverine continued up the street. In a stairwell leading down to a basement jazz club, he smelled the putrid funk of a vampire. He reported his discovery to his teammates, then moved on once more.
A minute later, Jean swooped down from the sky. As soon as he saw her face, he knew. “You found it,” he said.
“Yes,*4 she said. “Since you suddenly seemed to be having all the luck, I decided it would make sense for me to look around in your vicinity. And as soon as I saw the place—an abandoned church—I simply knew, even though I still can’t detect anyone inside.”
“Fly me there. I’ll keep watch and radio the others while you go pick up Cyke and bring him to the party.”
“Okay.” She levitated off the wet pavement, then lifted the Canadian in her telekinetic grasp. “Maybe it’s silly, considering that entire human race is in danger, but now that we’ve come this far, all I can think about is the argument that almost split us apart. Can we subdue Rogue without hurting her? Can I end the possession? Or are we going to have to strike to kill?”
“If we can knock out Belasco, maybe that’ll solve our problems. Guess we’ll find out in a few minutes.”
When Amanda teleported Piotr into the alley, Logan was perched atop a dented garbage can lighting a cheroot. Across the street stood a dilapidated red brick church, its spacious, overgrown grounds surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. She studied the structure with her mystical senses and detected nothing, but that was peculiar in and of itself. Any place of worship ought to give off at least a faint shimmer of spiritual power, unless someone had wrapped it in some kind of shield. “Jean’s right,” she said. “This is Belasco’s sanctuary.”
“I never doubted it,” Logan replied, exhaling pungent smoke, “ ’specially since I smell more vampire stink in this alley. Still, it’s nice to hear that you agree, considerin’ that I haven’t seen or heard any activity over there.”
“Logan, you and I should go in now,” said Piotr, rain rattling on his steel body.
The Canadian grinned. “And they call me reckless. Nope, we’ll wait on the others. They’ll be here soon.”
“The door to the Dark Ones’ prison could be opening this very instant!”
“If it is, do you think the two of us could fight our way through a bunch of bloodsuckers all by ourselves in time to stop it? Most likely, we’d just get killed and warn Belasco to expect the rest of the gang at the same time. It’s better if the whole team goes in together, like Cyke ordered.”
“But—” “
Logan gazed up at his hulking teammate. “I know how you feel, Petey. I cared about Illyana too, remember? But you can’t go crazy on us, not with all the chips on the table. We’re countin’ on you to handle yourself like a pro.”
Colossus grimaced. “Very well.”
Crouched, his yellow eyes gleaming, Kurt emerged from the darkness. The smell of brimstone indicated that he’d just teleported in. Soon, Phoenix floated down from the sky with Cyclops and Shadowcat in tow. Storm appeared half a minute later, riding a wind that made the rain fly horizontally and blew refuse clattering down the alley. Dracula arrived moments after her, his enormous wings melting into the folds of his cloak even as he landed.
“Let’s do it,” Cyclops said. Logan unsheathed his claws, and Kurt, his saber.
The team headed across the street, Piotr striding along in front as if it was a struggle not to break into a sprint and leave his companions behind. He effortlessly yanked the wrought-iron gate off its hinges and laid it in the long, wet grass.
They crossed the lawn, then ascended the concrete steps leading to the row of triangular-arched doors in the fagade of the church. In another second, they’d be fighting to save the Earth. The prospect was terrifying, and yet, at the same time, it didn’t feel quite real. It never did, and Amanda suspected she should be grateful. Perhaps it was that fleeting, dreamlike sensation that gave her the courage to hurl herself into the fray.
Piotr swung his huge, gleaming fist, a gust of wind howled, and Scott’s optic blast blazed. All of the doors crashed open at once, and the team strode into the vestibule. More vulnerable to physical assault than many of her companions, Amanda brought up the rear, but even so, her first glimpse of the interior of Belasco’s lair was enough to make her gasp in dismay.
As she’d expected, the undead, lean men and women with pale skin and shining eyes, stood or sat about the nave. What she hadn’t anticipated was the horde of demons and elemen-tals—no two alike, each hideous in its own way—that prowled, crawled, squatted, or hovered there as well. Evidently Belasco’s magic had somehow enticed them from their native realms to the physical plane. Perhaps they intended to start jockeying for the favor of the Dark Ones as soon as the deities returned.
Sword in hand, chanting, Belasco himself stood in the desecrated apse, behind a bloodstained basalt altar flanked by grotesque tentacular statues. A rotting corpse nailed to an inverted cross hung on the wall behind him.
Another chanting figure stood by the left-hand wall midway down the church. Her voice changed from second to second, from a roar to a buzz to a shrill whine, but was never entirely human. Her body was almost equally fluid, constantly oozing and flowing, changing color, putting forth limbs and organs of unknown function, then drawing them in once more. If not for the tattered uniform and shock of brown, white-streaked hair, Amanda might not have recognized the abomination as anything human, let alone her friend Rogue, now manifestly inhabited by the personae of several of the Elder Gods.
Yet none of this, ghastly though it was, was what so alarmed Amanda that she momentarily froze. Rather, she was reacting to the spectacle of the intricate and immensely powerful work of sorcery unfolding beneath the lofty ceiling of the church. A structure of whorls and spindles of radiant energy meshing as precisely and inexorably as the clockwork mechanism of a time bomb. Magic that, in a matter of seconds, would dissolve Agamotto’s wards.
Amanda had no time to try and devise a proper counterspell, no time for elaborate gestures or incantations. As the X-Men in the front rank commenced the attack and the foul occupants of the chamber lunged at them, she simply threw the raw force of her will and mystical might at Belasco’s construct, commanding it to stop. The structure of light flickered, some of its components twitching out of perfect alignment.
A jolt of pain, no less excruciating because its source lay on the metaphysical plane, wracked her. If the homed man’s ritual resembled a great machine, then her own magic, which was ultimately the stuff of her own soul, was now like a foreign object caught in the gears.
She must have cried out, because an instant later Jean and Kurt were beside her. “What’s wrong?” Nightcrawler asked.
“Belasco’s magic is almost finished,” Amanda said through a clenched jaw. “I can hold it back for a little while, but it’s going to do its job unless the rest of you take him down—and Rogue, too. She’s got the spirits of several of the Dark Ones inside her and she’s helping him conjure, not that they really even have to do that anymore. At this point, their will power alone is enough to drive the spell to completi
on.” “Understood,” Jean said. “I’ll tell the others telepathically. But you can’t defend yourself, can you? Someone—”
“Kurt and I will guard her,” said Kitty, trotting up to position herself in front of Amanda, her uniform already tom and a bloody gash on her shoulder. “Go help Rogue,” Phoenix levitated and flew into the nave.
The intruders advanced, and, shouting, baying, roaring, and gibbering, Belasco’s followers surged to meet them. Some of the X-Men were driven back toward the vestibule at once, but not Piotr. He marched down the aisle like a tank, smashing aside a female vampire; a reeking, biting creature resembling a leprous, two-headed harpy; and an immense black hornet with faceted eyes that almost hypnotized him before he managed to wrench his gaze away.
Jean’s telepathic voice spoke inside his head, warning that both Belasco and Rogue had to be neutralized, and quickly. I’ll get Belasco, Piotr thought. I promise I will, Illy ana.
Above his head, Ororo darted this way and that. She was obviously trying for a clear shot at Belasco, but flying demons and vampires did their best to interpose themselves between the mutant and her intended target. Finally the wind shrieked, momentarily clearing a path through the air. Storm extended her hand. Sneering, Belasco flicked his sword in a casual gesture. When her lightning leapt at him, an oval shield of scarlet light popped into existence to block it. The magician’s minions assailed Ororo anew, driving her back.
From the comer of his eye, Piotr glimpsed coiling strands of pearly vapor drifting along the base of the right-hand wall. It was Dracula in his mist form, and the Russian had to admire his sense of tactics. In that insubstantial, relatively inconspicuous shape, the vampire should be able to reach Belasco without having to batter his way through the latter s pet monsters. Indeed, in the chaos of the battle, they might not even notice him.
Unfortunately, when Dracula was halfway up the nave, Belasco himself did sense his enemy’s approach. Suddenly pivoting in the vampire’s direction, he murmured a brief incantation and pointed his sword at him. The strands of mist twisted together, thickened, darkened, and in an instant became Dracula’s solid human body. The lord of the undead collapsed, thrashing as if he were having an epileptic seizure. A creature like an ape with the scales and head of a reptile immediately pounced on him.
Another vampire, this one an adolescent with shoulder-length yellow hair, sprang at Piotr with fangs bared. The Russian grabbed him and threw him across the church. Then a demon a head taller and even more massive than himself appeared to block his path.
Ponderous as its crudely formed body appeared, the creature moved fluidly, as if it were made not simply of dully glowing orange stone but of magma. And as it strode closer, Colossus felt the fierce heat coming off it, just as he noticed the trail of smoldering footprints it branded into the floor.
Piotr hurled himself at the demon, driving his first punch into its chest and the second into its faceless lump of a head.
His metal fists bashed dents in the demon’s substance, but failed to slow its advance. The monster threw its arms around him, hoisted him off his feet, and then collapsed on top of him.
Its weight couldn’t crush him, nor was the pressure of its arms likely to do so, in and of themselves. But buried beneath it, he felt the heat of its body soaking into his own. It didn’t quite hurt yet, but the pain would come soon enough, as his steel flesh softened into something that his adversary could flatten or rip apart.
Piotr struggled frantically, striking, shoving, gouging, twisting, using every jujitsu, wrestling, and street-fighting move that anyone had ever taught him. Meanwhile, his shirt charred away, and a hot ache like a sunburn spread across his chest and face. Finally he managed to loosen the demon’s embrace and squirm free.
The creature immediately attempted to grab him again. He narrowly avoided its clutching hand and scrambled to his feet. The demon rose as well.
He couldn’t let it grapple him a second time, which meant that he couldn’t get close enough to pound on it with his fists. Pivoting, he grabbed the end of one of the pews and jerked it upward.
The long bench broke in the middle, but half of it tore away from the floor, enough to increase his reach by serving as a club. He battered the demon with it.
The wood immediately began to smash apart, a process hastened by the monster’s hammering fists. In a matter of seconds, there was nothing left, and though the demon’s body was now scarred from head to toe with pits and gouges, it continued to press the attack, seemingly as powerful as before.
Colossus uprooted another section of pew, and, bellowing, slammed it down on the magma creature’s head with every iota of his strength. The demon’s skull splashed into a spatter of pebbles and droplets of lava. Its body crumpled to the floor.
Piotr turned back toward the front of the church. The way was momentarily clear before him, and Belasco was leering at him.
“Come on, then,” said the sorcerer, his soft, mocking voice somehow audible despite the cacophony of the battle. “This is your chance. Claim your vengeance if you can.”
Piotr threw the pew at Belasco, then instantly charged. The warlock would have to avoid the missile somehow, and perhaps that would buy Colossus the time he needed to get on top of him.
But the hurtling bench simply vanished when Piotr was still several yards from the altar. Belasco said, “Break him.” A seething orb of shadow appeared in the air in front of him then, flying low, leapt at the mutant.
Piotr dodged, a split second too slow. The magic projectile smashed into his shin, producing a burst of pain and knocking him down. He tried to leap up, but could only flounder helplessly. Evidently the attack had broken his leg.
“So much for your vow to poor little Illyana,” Belasco said. Half a dozen of his inhuman followers surged at Colossus.
One hard-won step at a time, Scott, Logan, and Jean battled their way toward Rogue. Cyclops fired his optic blast again and again, as quickly as he could, battering one gibbering devil or hissing vampire after another. Crouched, pivoting this way and that. Wolverine slashed at any adversary who managed to lunge close enough. Hovering above their heads, Phoenix attacked Belasco’s flying servants with mental bolts and her telekinesis.
So far, Scott knew, they were at least holding their own, but he wondered just how long they could keep it up. He only had a finite reserve of solar energy to drive his mutant power. He very seldom exhausted it, but it had been known to happen. Jean’s psi could run out of steam as well. Even Logan, with his extraordinary metabolism, wore himself out occasionally. And as soon as any one of them faltered, this army of horrors might well take them all down.
Don’t think about it, he told himself. Just do your job.
Another optic blast slammed a vampire in lupine form into a demon resembling a huge, six-legged panther, then smashed the both of them into the wall. With the creatures out of the way, he had a clear shot at the flowing, chancrous thing that Rogue had become. Regretting the necessity, but without hesitation, he fired at her.
The scarlet ray had no visible effect. Frowning, he fired several more. By the end, he was discharging the most devastating blasts of which he was capable, still without even knocking Rogue off her feet.
Grimacing, he went back to fighting Belasco’s minions and helping his teammates maneuver into position to attempt to deal with Rogue. Finally they drew close enough for Wolverine to cut a final trio of demons out of his way, then dart in and attack the possessed woman herself.
His adamantium claws rang against her body, further shredding her uniform but not even nicking the squirming chameleon skin beneath. Tentacles erupted from her face and shot at him. Dodging them with uncanny grace and speed, he attacked even more savagely than before, but again to no avail. Still chanting, Rogue swung her right arm in a backhanded blow, and he hopped back just far enough to avoid it. But the limb lengthened in midsweep, catching him by surprise. Rogue would surely have tagged him and drained his vitality if Jean hadn’t snatched him back wit
h her psychokinesis.
“Our big argument was for nothin’,” growled Wolverine, gutting a triple-homed devil that had been slinking in on Scott’s flank. “With the Elder Gods inside her, we couldn’t kill her even if we were willing to try.”
Then it’s up to me, said Jean, speaking mind to mind. Cover me.
She stunned a snarling, gray-winged vampire with a mental bolt, tumbling it from the air and out of her way. That accomplished, she melted away the unstable molecules of her glove, dove at Rogue, and deliberately pressed her fingers against the possessed woman’s heaving, flowing face.
Rogue stopped chanting and stumbled backward. Jean collapsed in a heap at her feet. At once, more of Belasco’s servants lunged at her.
Scott frantically bashed them backward with a high-speed succession of optic blasts. Under the cover of the barrage, Logan sprang forward, snatched Jean up, carried her away from Rogue and over to Cyclops, and set her on the floor again. Standing over her, the two men fought madly to hold the onrushing monsters back.
Scott couldn’t tell if his wife was breathing, and their mind link had gone dead. He tried not to think about the fact that he and Wolverine could well be defending a corpse.
Kitty smiled, because the next demon that charged her had a long spear with a razor-edged, gleaming black head that resembled polished obsidian. Right at the moment, as the superficial wound she’d already sustained demonstrated, she was in urgent need of a weapon. She brushed the point aside with a geden-barai downward sweep, then wailed a split second for the toadlike creature’s own momentum to bring it into striking range. As soon as it did, she snapped punches at its bulging orange eyes.
The demon squealed and stumbled. Shadowcat grabbed the shaft of the spear, wrenched the weapon from her attacker’s webbed fingers, and used it to club the thing. That knocked it reeling backward far enough for her to drive the business end of the lance deep into its thorax. The devil melted into a torrent of slime.
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