Pic Credit: Found at Comicvine.
This story is unfinished at this point... Thanks to those that have taken the time to comment after reading.

Chapter Four

Miles and cities flew by with the hours. Lexington, Nashville, Birmingham, and Montgomery passed with barely a thought. I spent the night in a cheap motel and set out the next morning. Interstate-65 was my life until it ran out, and ran out it did.

I pulled over to the side of the road when my only choices were Interstate-10 East or West. A flip of a coin chose west. It was just as well. That one ended in California, more than a few days ride away.

When I reached the outskirts of Biloxi, Mississippi, I pulled off for lunch and to refill my tank. The beach was as good of a place as any.

It took me a while, but I found a McDonalds, grabbed a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake before pulling off on the boardwalk… or whatever they called it. There were wooden boards involved and a gigantic casino not too far away, otherwise the place looked like crap.

I sat on a bench and looked at the beautiful white sand that didn’t have a single piece of trash on it. Then I looked at the Gulf of Mexico and the brownish-gray water that was splashing foam up on the pristine sand.

The weather was bearable. A nice balmy sixty-degrees and Christmas was in sight on the horizon. Lucky me, I didn’t have a single person to buy a present for because I’d left them all behind. I couldn’t go back home because I would put my mother in danger and I just couldn’t face Logan again. I was probably a wanted fugitive or whatever for the thing at the stadium.

That’s why I turned my phone off and pulled the battery. That way I couldn’t be tracked. It was probably dead anyway. I hadn’t charged it for four days.

When I was finished with the burger I balled up the trash and dropped it in the receptacle by the bench, then I pulled my legs up to my chin and stared at the water.

“Are you all right, honey?”

I focused on the middle-aged woman in front of me, wearing a jogging outfit.

“What?”

“You’re crying. I thought… I just wanted to see if you’re alright. Do you want me to call someone for you?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, thank you.”

She sat down on the other end of the bench. “Man troubles?”

I choked out a half-laugh and half-sob; if it were only that simple. However, someone was there, someone that I’d probably never see again, so what would it hurt?

“I threw myself at him and he said no.”

She looked properly affronted for me. “Then he’s an idiot. Honey, once you wash that weepy look off your face, you’re a knockout, believe me.”

I sniffled and rubbed a rough textured McDonald’s napkin under my nose. “Thanks.”

“Is he worth it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The trouble. Is he worth the trouble that you’re puttin’ yourself through; the running away, the self-torture?”

I sniffed again and set my boots on the ground. “What makes you think I’m running away?”

She laughed for a moment. “By your accent, you’re from up north, not to mention the Illinois license on your bike. You’re sittin’ on the beach looking at the water and crying. All signs of a girl that’s runnin’ from her problems instead of facin’ them head on.”

I chuckled. “Is that what I’m supposed to do? Go back?”

She shrugged. “This man that you love; what’s he look like?”

I looked back out at the water again. “A little taller than me, not much though. Looks like a lumberjack, loves flannel, and rarely shaves.”

“A lumberjack? Big guy I take it?”

I nodded and she smiled before getting up. “Honey, I wouldn’t worry about going back. Love has a way of catchin’ up to you. Take care of yourself.”

She started her jog again while I looked at her with a confused face. When I turned back to the water again, he was sitting in her place.

Logan.

I grabbed my helmet and almost made it to my feet before he took hold of my wrist and pulled me back down.

“Wait,” he said.

“Why? So, you can work me up again and toss me aside? I don’t think so.”

He still wouldn’t look at me. “I wasn’t working you up. I’ve been doing everything I can think of not to do that.”

I laughed, once, in his face. “Strip me naked and get me into bed? Okay, I can see the reasoning behind that. I was freezing and you were trying to warm me up. You didn’t have time to get me all dressed in my jammies. But tell me this, why were you naked, not even any underwear? You spared the time to bring our duffles in and you couldn’t spare fifteen seconds to put something between your dick and my ass?”

A guy was running by us and gave me a weird look. He looked like he was going to stop, but took one look at Logan’s red face and cruise missile-like arms and decided to let me handle the situation.

His jaw clenched.

“So yeah, I’m not buying your innocent noble man routine. I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. It’s the same way I look at you. Maybe it’s because you haven’t been laid in eons and here’s this cute girl with a spectacular ass waving it in front of you, so maybe it’s the only choice you’ve got. But I’m not buying that either.”

I pulled my wrist out of his hand and stood up.

“What is your problem, Logan?”

His eyes flicked to me for a short moment. “I’m not aging.”

I blinked. “Okay, I think I figured that out when we were in Duluth and I got mind-raped. What’s your point?”

He sighed with an annoyed attitude. “I’ve tried to settle down before. I even tried with Terri. It always comes down to them growing old and me staying right where I am.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Mom told me that she didn’t want to live in the woods and you did.”

I got the look of, are you kidding?

“We had discussions about that, yeah, but I would have moved to the city for her,” he said. “She left, because when she would look forty, I would still look like I was twenty-one. She thought I wouldn’t want her.”

Okay, I could see that; wrinkly old woman and hot young guy. He would eventually find it gross, maybe having to call her Mom and then Grandma so people wouldn’t think it was weird for him to be holding her hand or some stupid stuff.

“You’re forgetting one thing, well, a couple of things actually,” I said.

“What?” He looked like he wanted me to make all his troubles go away, but knew for a fact that it was impossible.

“For one, I’m not my mom. For two, it’s only a matter of time before whoever is sending these stupid ninjas after us will wise up and send a hundred instead of a handful at a time. I’ll be overwhelmed and killed long before I see my first wrinkle. Forgive me if I want to enjoy what time I have left.”

Logan jaw clenched again and he started to cut me off, but I held a threatening finger at him.

“You know it’s a possibility as much as I do, so don’t try to make me feel better. I’m not giving up; I’m just being realistic.” I bumped his leg with my own and then straddled them while I sat down in his lap. “Give me a good reason why we can’t be together for now.”

I had him and he knew it.

“Am I too young? I’m an adult in everyone’s eyes but yours, for some weird reason. So you look a couple of years older than me at the moment. Does anyone really care? Are people stomping on their brakes in the street and screaming, child molester?”

It was almost amusing seeing him uncomfortable with my hand trailing up his chest to his shoulders.

“I-I’m your teacher.”

“You forgot about the download in my head. I don’t need a teacher anymore. You’re fired. What else.”

He briefly closed his eyes. I was right there on the precipice of getting him to admit that he wanted me.

“Kitty… we’ve… we’ve been living together for three months and I am… I was your teacher. It’s natural for you to look up to or even desire someone in that position.”

I chuckled. “You’re saying I have the hots for teacher, that this is a crush? Are you sure this is my fantasy or is it yours? Should I go out and buy a naughty schoolgirl outfit so you can keep me after school for acting up in class? Will there be spanking involved?”

He made a strangled noise, so I moved in for the kill.

“Logan, what I’m feeling isn’t a crush, and yes, I do look up to you. I’ve known you for most of my life and I think I can tell the difference between mooning over someone and wanting to wake up next to them every morning for as long as I can.”

Someone chose that moment to honk on their horn and woohoo us from the road. I grinned at them.

“See, even they think we’re good together.”

Logan swallowed and didn’t say anything else. Seeing as how he was still thinking about everything I chose to give him a break.

“Okay, you need a little time. Here’s my plan: I get up, get on my bike and ride west. If you follow me then we’re spending the night in a decent motel somewhere… together.”

I stressed that last word with a strong amount of innuendo.

“If you don’t follow me, then… well, I’ll know you couldn’t handle it. I’m not throwing myself at you again. If you don’t choose me over this self-imposed whatever it is you’ve got going, then I’m moving on.”

Leaning in, I pressed my lips against his and closed my eyes. His hands found their way to my thighs and eventually on my butt with his fingers digging into the leathers. I could feel things tightening below, my body preparing itself for what it thought was coming next, but I denied it by pulling away and standing up.

My lips burned with the desire to keep up with what I was doing, but I knew if I did then I was lost. I had to make the break then and there.

Logan watched me put my helmet on and mount the bike. I wiggled my butt on the seat to find a comfortable position because I had this incredible itch that needed scratching in the worst way.

~O~

He didn’t follow.

I could have sworn the kiss would seal the deal. It was inconceivable that he would turn me down, but there it was; he did it again.

By the time I made it to Slidell, I was through crying. By the time I made it to Baton Rouge I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a soft bed and some time with the toys Mom bought me.

I had plenty of practice over the last two days, fantasizing that it was Logan that was taking me and making me his, but in the end it wasn’t enough. I was still left wanting.

This time was going to be different. I was putting him behind me and getting on with my life. If what I said to him didn’t change his mind then nothing would.

After I pulled in everything from my bike, I took a long hot shower and I might have wept a little more. It was hard to tell with water everywhere.

I dried off and looking at myself in the mirror I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

“Maybe I need bigger breasts.”

Due to the excessive amount of exercise I put myself through, I was edging on a large A-cup instead of the B that the metagene gave me. Yes, there were downsides to working out.

They were more perky than anything else… again, cute.

Maybe cute just wasn’t what Logan was looking for. Maybe he wanted sultry and dangerous, or maybe he was attracted to curvy bodies. My butt was plenty pronounced and my waist was bordering on waspish.

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Kitty. Get him out of your head. You don’t need a man to make your life complete. You were a man, so you can have yourself.”

I wrapped a towel around me while I dug in the duffle for Shaky and his friend the Poke Master when I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Ugh. Awful timing here, bub.”

Crossing the floor, I peeked out the provided peep hole and gasped, then I looked at the vibrator and dildo in hands.

“Just a second!”

Running back to the towel I kept them wrapped in I tossed everything back in the duffle and closed it up. The bed was already turned down and my hair was moderately dry, I had no makeup on and I was wrapped in a towel.

“Dammit.” I sighed and shook my head. “Screw it.”

Running back over to the door, I unlocked the deadbolt and threw the hinge back on the hinge thingie before sweeping the door wide open.

“You followed me,” I said rather breathless.

Logan did the long trail of his eyes from my bare feet up over the towel and to my flat semi-wet hair.

He was dusty, unshaven with what looked to be a week’s worth of beard growth, his jacket was open showing off his wife-beater and chiseled chest, and I noticed portions of him were very happy to see me. In short, I almost drooled.

He took my scent in and I tried to keep myself from jumping on him in the middle of the doorway. Then I thought of his little speech before he agreed to train me, three months ago.

“If you come in the room, there’s no going back. I’m not gonna take it easy on you. If that means a little ache or a little cuddle then that’s the price you pay. No whining about our ages or the future, just us, for now.”

His lips ticked to the side, ever so slightly, before he took a step inside and wrapped his arm around my waist. I let go of the door and smashed my mouth against his.

~O~

My nose tickled again, except this time I relished the feeling of waking up in Logan’s arms. I lay half on and half off his body as boneless as could be. Whatever tension I had built up over the last three months had been whisked away when he thoroughly took me and made me his again and again over the course of the night.

There was a major ache between my legs and my entire pelvic area felt like it had gone fifteen rounds with the heavyweight champ, but with that ache came a feeling of contentment and satisfaction that I’d never had before as a guy or a girl.

Logan stirred and I felt his arm tighten around me. My leg had a mind of its own climbed around his waist pulling my body with it.

“Morning,” I whispered before I kissed him.

There was something down there that was lightly poking me in a rather sore place. I grinned and rubbed my smooth cheek over his rough one.

“I need a shower, and possibly a large bag of ice.”

He looked at me weird for a second and then chuckled. “What about that little ache being that price you had to pay?”

I shook my head and crawled off him and out from under the covers. “No, this is a major ache. You do good work, Logan; no complaints from me.”

I must have made quite the sight, limping to the bathroom to relieve myself and letting whatever remnants of Logan’s evening deposits that remained wash out of me. It felt so incredibly good that I considered just staying in bed and reenacting the entire evening again, except I definitely wouldn’t be able to walk and might need medical attention afterward.

The hot water pounded on my back as I grabbed the complementary soap got to work cleaning things. That didn’t last for long.

The shower curtain was pulled back and I was joined by someone that was willing to wash my back, and other portions of me.

~O~

Jeans were my choice for that day. My leathers were about to accomplish standing up all on their own. I seriously needed a cleaners that could do quick work. When I mentioned as much to Logan, he just said to pack them away and he’d buy me some more.

I didn’t mind that. I’d lost weight and gained muscle. They didn’t really fit like they used to.

“Where are we going next?” I asked.

He grunted. “To take care of an annoying problem, but first you need the right tools for the job.”

I smirked. “Is that west of here?”

“East, or more like north-east. Charleston, South Carolina.”

Ugh, north. Just when I was thinking that I might be able to go sunbathing on Christmas. At least it wasn’t Maine.

I won’t tell you about the drive this time as we’d probably confused the hell out of the LoJack the ninja’s had on the sword. I could just picture that call: She’s going south, no, she’s going west, no, hold on she’s going north-east now. Maybe they’d give up. I could only hope.

We took our time this round and wound up cruising into town two days later. We could have made it in one if my seat came with a built-in massager. After the frantic and animalistic pounding I took the night before, I just couldn’t ride for that long.

We stopped in front of a really old style build on East Bay Street, and parked our bikes.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s a building.”

I shot him an annoyed glare. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. What are we doing here?”

“Someone’s holding a package for me.”

I tried grunting like he always did to me, but it sounded like I had something caught in my throat instead. I suppose a noncommittal noise like that takes practice to pull off properly.

We climbed the steps and went inside. It looked like a cross between a museum and a place that rents out rooms for things like meetings or maybe dinner parties. There was a plaque to the side with another one of those annoying history of stories written for visitors.

The Old Exchange and Provost Dungeon.

“You take me to all the nicest places.”

“Don’t touch anything,” he said.

This time I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets and vowed to keep them right there. I followed him past one of those red velvet things that are put around places regular people aren’t supposed to go, figuring that he wasn’t one of those people. What I was wondering was, why wasn’t anyone stopping us.

There was a front desk of sorts. The person took one look at Logan and started looking twitchy, not that I blame him. The man can be seriously intimidating when he wants to be… and pretty much any other time as well. Only those of us that know him well know that he’s just a big teddy bear under that steely glare. Granted, that teddy bear had actual claws that extended about a foot past his knuckles whenever he was seriously angry.

We trotted downstairs and entered an area I assumed was the Provost Dungeon. It was air conditioned now, but I remember seeing the date on the history plaque. It was pre-Revolutionary War. I could only imagine the oppressing heat and stench that was soaked into the walls back when English soldiers used to toss criminals down there to be transported at a later date.

I mean seriously, sure soap had been invented by then, but do you really think anyone used the stuff? Nah, they tended to take a monthly bath which was usually shared with the rest of the family at the time, if they were lucky. Sometimes they’d go to bath houses and share dirty water with complete strangers. It’s true. I read that in National Geographic… or was that Men’s Heath?

Anyway, what they would do was to take their monthly bath and then whenever they started to stink again, they’d just douse themselves in perfume or cologne to cover it up. I shuddered just thinking about it.

I have a hard enough problem passing someone in the mall that spritzed a couple times too many that morning, or being trapped in an elevator with some old lady whose sense of smell died about fifty years previously, so she just pours half the bottle of the cheapest perfume she can find on herself.

I mean really, who thinks that stuff smells good? Is someone supposed to introduce their self and compliment her on the three dollar a quart perfume she bought at the Dollar Store?

It does keep mosquitoes away though, can’t same the same about bees.

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah, dank dungeon that resembles an old wine cellar minus the racks of wine.

Logan led me over to a brick covered archway where he pushed up on one of the bricks. I heard a click and the sound of chains moving. Turning around I saw one of the bricked walls rising up, portcullis style. I was going to ask how he knew that was there, but this is Logan I’m talking about. Seriously, nothing surprises me about the man.

It was a fairly big extension to the dungeon, another room about twenty by twenty with the same old style dank brick. There were several shipping crates lining the walls and bits of straw littering the floor. It didn’t look like the room had been entered in over a decade; hence the overabundance of spider webs and dust.

He looked around for a few moments before walking over to one set of crates and started muscling some around, before making a fist and popping one of the blades in his fist out.

I winced as he tore through the skin and I saw a few drops of blood hit the floor.

“Oww, doesn’t that hurt?”

He grunted. “Got used to it a long time ago.”

I stepped closer to get a better look, taking hold of his hand and running a finger along the back portion, the blunt side. The light wasn’t the greatest so I couldn’t make out what it was made of too well.

“Is this… bone?”

“Super dense bone; they’re harder to break than the regular stuff.”

I nodded, feeling a lump behind his middle and ring fingers where I guess they locked into place.

“So this is natural I’m guessing?”

“It’s one of the reasons I prefer the word mutant instead of metahuman. This ain’t something that I usually call normal. Now if you don’t mind…”

Stepping back, I watched as he shoved it underneath and wedged open the top portion of the crate. The nails squealed against the wood making goosebumps rise on my skin. Once there was enough room, the blade retracted back into his hand with a snikt. His skin and muscles rolled as I watched the blade travel almost the full length of his forearm where they were stored when not in use.

That so had to hurt. It wasn’t like the he could develop internal scars or calluses that would ease the movement along. Logan healed everything equally as well. That meant every time those claws popped out had to be like the first.

While I was sitting there pondering the freshly raw nerve endings of his hands, he was rifling through the crate, pushing old straw to the side so he could pull out a couple of boxes.

“You know anything about Masamune?”

I drew a blank and shook my head.

“He was arguably one of the greatest sword makers in history. You can find a few of his works still around if you look hard enough.”

With a nod I ventured a guess. “I suppose he’s dead?”

Logan grunted. “About six hundred years and change. He specialized in tantō, the daggers and tachi, the long swords. But he did work on others.

He depressed a button and I heard a hiss of air before he opened the first case. Looking inside there was a pair of sai facing each other. With a nudge, he moved the case in my direction.

My eyes lit up. “For me?”

Logan’s head tilted a fraction of a millimeter and I grabbed them before he could change his mind.

There was no sign of the metal being tarnished or even a spot of rust. It was one of the reasons you’re not really supposed to store blades inside their sheathes for extended periods of time. There were specialized sheaths for long term storage or you could go the hermetically sealed route like Logan did.

I gripped them lovingly and then spun them across my fingers to test the balance, threw in a couple of defensive and offensive moves and then brought them back to ready form.

“If you think you’re getting lucky tonight, then you would be very right.”

He smirked and grunted at me. “That’s not the best part.”

“Oh, more toys?!”

I set the sai back in their case and he closed it up, setting it aside. My eyes gleamed at the longer, wider case. At first I was thinking, katana, but it was a little too wide. I bounced on my toes waiting for him to go through his routine. When he opened the case, I may have made an eep sound.

“Is… what is…?”

“Technically they’re called wakizashi. They’re normally companion swords for the katana, but I thought with your height these will serve you better. They’re a little longer than normal, but just under the limit for a proper katana.”

I ignored the jab at my height in lieu of the presentation of really shiny things. This time, I didn’t wait for permission. I just reached in and picked one of them up.

“Minoru.”

I lifted my brow in question. “It was common to name a sword. The one you hold is called Minoru, Truth.”

At the base of the sword was the Kanji symbol for the name. At least I could tell them apart. I had to tilt my head to read the second one.

“Takeshi. That means… violent?”

Logan shrugged. “More like violent warrior, technically, I chose to call it War instead.”

“Why?”

He looked down at that particular sword, tracing his fingers just above its surface. “Something you need to remember; in war, truth is the first casualty.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Does this have to do with freedom of the press or something?”

“Not exactly.”

Logan finally settled his hand on the grip and lifted it out with a pained look on his face.

“There are at least two sides to every story, Kitty. Before you decide to use these, every single time, make sure you’re on the right side.”

In case you were wondering, yes, I do realize there’s some really messed up story behind why he told me that, but from the look on his face as he stared at blade, I just didn’t have the heart to ask.

That kind of took the fun out of trying the swords out but I did get the feel for each of them before returning them to the case.

~O~

On the way out, the receptionist cautiously raised a finger to get Logan’s attention, but he ignored him as we made our way out of the building.

“Is there a reason the staff is scared to death of you?” I asked.

Logan grunted. “The only thing they pass on is requests for some historical association that wants to buy the place. I’m not interested in selling.”

Like I said before, nothing surprises me about him.

“Give me back my katana.”

I set the weapons cases on my bike and slipped the map case off my back. “I thought you didn’t want to have the mask and sword near each other.”

“Dumped the mask off on the way down, before catching up with you.”

That interested me. “I thought…”

“It’s safer where it is.”

“Oookay. Do I get my own map case now?”

He turned around and looked at me, like haven’t I given you enough already? I just smiled innocently at him. That earned me a minor grimace and he dug into his saddle bags.

I wasn’t really serious. Some people just don’t get my humor.

“Here.”

“Oh! A necklace…” Then I got a good look at it. “A really gaudy half-black half-red necklace. You really shouldn’t have. I mean it; you really shouldn’t have.”

The necklace itself was silver… maybe. It was the medallion that hung off of it that was gaudy.

“It’s the rising sun of Japan,” Logan clarified for me.

I gave him a very weak smile. “I’m not all that much into Japanese stuff like you are.”

“Put it on. It’s supposed to make people that don’t know you, ignore you.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, I lifted the necklace up. “Is this a jealousy thing that I don’t know about? You don’t want anyone looking at my spectacular ass? I worked hard on getting it just right, you know.”

“It’s so you can wear your weapons without being bugged by cops.”

I seriously doubted that a necklace would stop cops from seeing a hot girl decked out with oversized Ginzu knives.

“Will they be staring in horror at this thing instead?”

He shrugged. “It’s magic. I don’t pretend to understand all that mystic crap. I just know it works, so put it on.”

I think the years had finally caught up to my sweetie-pie. “Logan, magic doesn’t exist.”

He growled at me and I growled back, except mine wasn’t nearly as intimidating.

“If you think that growling is supposed to scare me, well, you’re doing it wrong,” I said. “It just turns me on.”

Have I ever told you how cute Logan looks when he gets flustered?

He took me to some really weird sports store, except they didn’t really carry anything like footballs or tennis balls. Instead, they had things like magazine clips, compound bows, and lots and lots of camouflage.

“Take your jacket off.”

You know those leather shoulder holsters that make an X on your back. Well, Logan was holding one of those.

“What’s that for.”

“Your swords.”

“How am I supposed to wear my swords on my back if I have my jacket on?”

“I’ll cut the leather.”

I stepped back. “I’m going to have to hurt you, Logan. No cutting the leather. Do you know how much I paid for this thing? And besides, that’s tacky.”

His shoulders dropped like he was getting tired of arguing with me.

“Haven’t you ever seen Highlander?” I said.

He snorted, and I pretended that I didn’t hear it.

“They’ve got these coats with their scabbards sown inside their jackets. It’s pretty cool too because it doesn’t show or make it hang all weird.”

“Kitty, your jacket isn’t long enough.”

I just blinked at him and cleared my throat. “Yeah, I know what you mean. If I only had one of those knee length leather coats. That would rock, right?”

Maybe he wasn’t taking the hint.

“You’re going to be one of those high maintenance girls, aren’t you?”

Or not.

I scowled at him. “I’ve spent the last three months sleeping on a cot and taking cold water showers. Not to mention the possession, killer ninjas, and the fact that I can never go home again without putting my mother in danger. If you think that’s high maintenance then I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Without a word he hung the shoulder holster back up and we left to go to a proper store.

“Ooohhh, pretty!”

Yeah, I was laying it on pretty thick, but I didn’t appreciate the high maintenance comment, so I was torturing him.

“Do you think it comes in pink?”

There was a minor groan behind me which made me smile.

“I’m kidding.” I pulled a regular knee length coat out and checked the size. “This will do.”

“You’re not going to try it on?” he asked. There was a wary look on his face.

“Why?”

“To see if it fits.”

I smirked. “Logan, I don’t know if you remember, but three months ago I used to be a guy. I probably hate shopping as much as you. If I ever spend more than ten minutes in a store, looking for something to wear, you have my permission to ask what’s taking me so long.”

He tried to pay and I threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t back off. We have an odd relationship.

~O~

Do you know how hard it is to sew a scabbard into the lining of a leather jacket? Logan wisely decided that would be good time to go out for pizza while I wrestled with ripping out the stitching for a third time. When he returned I had one finished and was working on the second. You’d think sewing ability would come with the X-chromosome; it doesn’t.

I did snag one of Logan’s beers. That made me happy.

Every once in a while he’d allow me to swipe one. I guess it depended on the situation. It was really weird though; I never finished them. After two or three swigs I passed the rest to him. Maybe it was a girl thing. Though I remember quite well some of the girls in high school drinking just as much as the guys. Maybe it was a me thing.

He looked dissatisfied flipping through the channels on the TV. It appeared that he wanted to be doing something. For someone that kept himself busy day in and say out in Minnesota, sitting in a motel room in South Carolina was probably torture.

“Will you talk to me about something?” I said.

Logan’s eyes darted toward me. “About what?”

I shrugged my shoulders as I added a stitch to my coat. “When were you born?”

It appeared as if he thought I was going to ask about something else. “June fifteenth.”

I smiled at the evasion. “You’re funny.”

He grunted and switched channels a lot faster.

“If you don’t want to talk about that, we can talk about Ogun.”

“We should get some sleep,” he said.

Shaking my head I lifted my coat. “I’m only halfway through with this side and you’ve been avoiding me asking about this. I get you wanting to be private. But I need to know what could possibly be stuck in my head, and I’d like to know more about the real you.”

The TV clicked off and he set the remote on the nightstand. Standing, he walked over to the ice bucket where the last two beers were chilling.

“I was born June fifteenth in the year of our Lord twelve-fifteen, the day the Magna Carta was signed by King John. It wasn’t called that at the time though. My mother was English and my father Hungarian. I grew up in Hungary, at the bottom of the aristocracy. When I was twenty-one, my father beat my mother to death for defying him. I tried to stop him, but he’d shoved his sword through my chest.”

My mouth had dropped open at the year he mentioned and it stayed open the entire time thereafter.

“When I didn’t die, I pulled it back out and watched as my chest closed up. I thought I was either an avenging angel sent from God or a Demon sent from hell. Either way, I had revenge for my mother. By the end of the day I was I was half-way to Poland.”

Logan twisted the top off his bottle and drank half the contents in his first pull.

What could I say to that?

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m gonna go smoke.”

I nodded and watched as he pulled a cigar out of his duffle and stepped outside.

When I finished with the coat, I secured the swords and hung it up, washed my face, brushed my teeth and went to retrieve my wayward boyfriend.

That sounds messed up, doesn’t it? Me, the former Kevin Pryde, wide receiver for my high school football team and general all around semi-womanizer, going out to bring my boyfriend back so we could go to bed where I would show him how much he meant to me. But that was my life now.

I was a girl, or a woman, whichever, and I was probably going to be that way for the rest of my life, however long that may be.

After pulling him back inside, I took off his shirt and jeans then laid him down in bed. His face was expressionless and I’d caused that by dredging up the past. Let’s just say his melancholy didn’t last for very long. I can be very distracting when I want to be.

~O~

I am a young woman, standing before my master, battling him with the katana. We are evenly matched, my youth and speed countering his experience. He backs away slashing with his hand. I block the hand-seal of cutting with the hand-seal of shield then lunge.

Master Ogun stabs forward with a killing strike. I ghost through the sword and hold my katana at his neck with my own.

“Musume-san, I am proud of you.”

He calls me daughter, instead of student, for the first time.

He orders me one last time to match his movements, this time with the katana.

“No,” I said and backed away. “I won’t let you take control.

Ogun frowned and sheathed his sword. “This is unfortunate.”

“For you maybe; I like being me just fine.”

“Koneko, my presence here is not as it appears.”

He called me Kitten, which is the closest word to Kitty as the Japanese language allows, I suppose.

“It appears like you’re in my head, after dumping a lifetime of martial arts in there along with your personality,” I said. “Trust me, it’s crowded enough. What do you want?”

Ogun’s hands went to his hips as he looked down at me. “I wish for us to be as one.”

I sheathed my own katana. “Don’t you mean you wish for me to step aside so you can go restart your evil ninja school?”

His lips twitched. “As you have seen for yourself, Koneko, my school, as you call it, has already continued, though it is substandard if you were able to defeat them so easily.”

You want to know the weird part about facing off with someone that you know is supposed to be really evil? The normalness of him.

He wasn’t twisting his handlebar mustache and cackling maniacally, or telling me his evil plans for the destruction of the Earth. He was just a guy.

“So, you’re like alive in someone else right now?”

He shook his head. “Logan has thwarted my attempts for the last eighteen years.”

Ogun smiled with almost a proud look on his face. “He was never one to use magic as a resource. It is good that he has set his stubbornness aside, at least in this instance.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “So, who’s running the school if not you?”

“A descendant of one I possessed, I assume,” he said. “Do you love him, Koneko?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Logan, my son or my student as you are or were.”

That made me uncomfortable. “I don’t really see where that’s any of your business.”

“If he discovers that I am still here in your mind, it will be my business and yours. Logan has destroyed each of my incarnations throughout the centuries. If you wish to live for much longer, you must leave him.”

I shrugged. “I’m telling him about this when I wake up, so you’re wasting your breath.”

Before he had a chance to complain or whatever, I tried to take advantage of his apparent truthfulness. “How are they finding the sword?”

His hands went behind his back grasping one another. “It is not the sword they are tracking.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed at them. “It’s me. You’re inside of me and they’re tracking that.”

“Correct.”

“So they don’t really want it, they want me.”

“No, I forged the katana. That is reason enough for their efforts. They already have a leader. They need no other.”

“Oh. They want the sword and they want me dead.”

Ogun’s eyes narrowed in appreciation of my dilemma. “Destroy them. It is your only option.”

~O~

I filled Logan in on the evil guy in my head over breakfast at Denny’s.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He grunted. “I think you’re safe enough. If he had the power to take you over, he would have already done it. He’s trapped.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I think I got that part when he didn’t try to turn me into a shish-kabob. I’m asking about the whole take-the-fight-to-them bit.”

I received a shrug in return. “That was my original plan, but seeing as he’s giving the same advice, I’m second-guessing myself.”

“You know where these guys are?” I couldn’t believe we were wasting time state-trotting when he might have known all along.

“I have an idea. It’s not confirmed.”

Setting my orange juice down on the table, I gave him as much of a death glare as I could manage.

“Okay, game playing is over. I want to know specifics: names, places…”

“You aren’t ready. You can’t even consciously control your phasing power yet and that could be a major advantage with overwhelming odds.”

I ground my teeth. “Great, can we quit screwing around now and get to business? What do I need to do?”

“Phase through things.”

Wonderful, I’m dating a comedian.

“Any idea how?”

He shrugged. “Mine works without thinking about it. I can’t help you there.”

I sighed. “I’m guessing that you don’t know anyone that can help me out, any other metas?”

“The ones I knew are long dead.”

It was then that I started putting things together. “Hold on, there were metas before Jade?”

“Jade isn’t a meta. She gets her powers from her ring. She said so on TV. And yes, they’ve been around forever… just not as many. A lot of the more famous people in history were mutants.”

My brows furrowed. “Who?”

“Joan of Arc, Alexander, Attila, Julius Caesar, most were before my time, but I’ve met people that heard things. From what I know, there has only been a handful across the world at any one time. Something happened… I don’t know, another mutation or something, and now everyone’s a mutant.”

Something else occurred to me. “Did you used to be a girl?”

“No.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t tell me if you were would you?”

“No, but I wasn’t.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Logan. I’m not one to talk. If you were a girl at one time that would be fine with me. We’d have something in common.”

“I wasn’t, so drop it.”

“We could talk about petticoats or makeup.”

A growl came up out of his throat.

“There you go again,” I said. “Trying to turn me on.”

TBC...

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