Fangs and Folklore

Posted on Mon Feb 16th, 2026 @ 6:27pm by Jean Grey-Summers & Kennedy Kelly & Hayden Davis & Maeve MacKenna & Jennifer Bryant & Alaric Thane & Josiah Martin & Logan

7,421 words; about a 37 minute read

Mission: Episode 7: Pathogens and Contagions
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: March 6, 1992

After a day of rest and welcoming Sarah back to Xavier’s, the Alternate Class was finally ready to discuss the events of Coney Island and the next step in their mission to stop the vampires that were plaguing the city before they turned into a completely different form of a pandemic. Gathering in one of the empty class rooms rather than the war room gave everyone the impression that it was a more casual meeting to debrief and discuss what had happened rather than a call to action that required them to wear their uniforms.

Like always, Jean stood at the head of the class room as she waited for all of them to arrive, she silently assessed their mental state and health as they appeared. "Good Morning, there's coffee and doughnuts on the back table if you'd like something."

Maeve walked in beside Desmond, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm with every step — not for show, but because she needed the grounding. He was the only thing that made her feel steady, even if he hadn’t been able to stop Damian’s bite.

The truth was… she felt good.
Too good.

Her body was wound tight with a humming energy that hadn’t faded since Coney Island. Her pulse beat fast and fierce beneath her skin. The ache at her throat was still there, but underneath it ran a warmth that made her feel strong, sharp, alive in a way that scared her.

And hunger. God, that quiet, constant hunger.

She stepped into the classroom looking anything but exhausted — she looked alert, bright-eyed, restless. Jean’s gaze landed on her instantly. Maeve met it without flinching, chin ticking up a fraction in something that wasn’t quite challenge… but wasn’t far off.

“Morning,” she said, voice rougher than usual, almost lazy with confidence she didn’t feel.

The smell of coffee hit her too strongly. Her stomach tightened. She didn’t move toward the doughnuts — didn’t even pretend to be interested. Normal food held no appeal.

She followed Desmond to a pair of seats and dropped into one, leaning slightly into his space, her leg brushing his. It settled her. A little.

“Feels strange bein’ back in a classroom,” she muttered under her breath for him alone. “Weirder that I can hear everyone’s heartbeat without even tryin’.”

A humourless little laugh escaped her. Her hand drifted to her throat before she caught herself and let it fall.

“Don’t say it,” she muttered when Desmond’s eyes flicked to the bite.

Her stomach growled — low, wrong — and she winced.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she whispered, almost pleading. “Before I get… antsy.”

Jean raised a single scarlet brow in response to Maeve’s sudden change in demeanor. While it was concerning, she still managed to show up and participate which counted for something when the vampires appeared to be a real threat.

Walking into the classroom, Sarah’s arms were full of the stereotypical vampire fighting tools. Garlic From the kitchen, pieces of dowel sharpened to a point, a few misshapen wooden crosses and even a Bible she’d taken from the library. Moving to a desk to the side of the classroom, she dumped everything down and turned around with a beaming smile. “Alright, ready to dust some leaches?” She said, failing to read the room.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Sarah.” Jean said with a chuckle as she brought in a bevy of items that may or may not stop a vampire. “I think Kurt would be happy to see his crucifix put to good use.”

Jennifer came in. She supposed she wasn't really late. She was just fourth. But she somehow had that feel to her. Like she had overslept and barely made it here. Despite her new powers, they didn't quite make up for her not getting nearly enough sleep at night lately. She got a soda and moved over to take a seat by Maeve, on the other side of her from Desmond. Maeve was the only one who really understood. She offered a small smile.

Jean noticed the pair of bitten teens taking a seat together. While Maeve had become brazen and impatient after her incident, Jennifer had become cool and collected in her manner. One was a dog tugging on its chain while the other was a cat who stalked in the night. Jean didn’t envy Dr. Reyes and whatever treatment plans she had been trying to administer for the two because they seemed to be responding differently to the touch of vampirism that plagued them.

“Get out! This breakfast isn’t for you!” Kennedy snapped as Rahne had followed her into the classroom and began to stuff her face and her pockets with the offered pastries.

“Och! If Ah gie ye information aboot vampires, does that count? Baobhan Sith are bonnie lassies that tempt men intae dancin wi’ them. An’ when the poor sods are aw knackered, they slit their throats wi’ their talons an’ drink their bluid.” Rahne replied with her mouth full of powdered sugar, which then dusted the leg and hip of Kennedy’s plum colored sweater dress with every word Rahne puffed out.

“That’s not real! Now get out!” Kennedy turned the girl around and pushed her out of the room. Only after Rahne was gone did she notice the white powdered sugar that now covered her. “For crying out loud…” The blonde chided as she grabbed a handful of paper napkins and began to dust herself off while she took her seat.

Hayden shuffled in and grabbed a jelly filled doughnut before sitting down in a chair. She’d changed into a pair of slate-blue sweatpants, a simple white tee-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Over the tee she wore a light gray hoodie, half zipped, with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The hoodie looked cozy, like something she'd wear on off-days or study nights. But on her now, it felt more like armor made of soft fabric.

Hayden had wrapped herself in clothes that should have felt familiar and comfortable, but nothing on her felt settled tonight. She took a bite of the jelly doughnut and stared into the distance, beyond the walls of the classroom. That memory still frozen in her mind...sensing their veins, stopping the flow of blood. She kept tucking the same loose strand of hair behind her ear, more for something to do than anything else.

In her casual clothes she looked young, almost painfully so. She was a girl who had always wanted to help people. And now she was wrestling with the reality that saving the innocent sometimes meant choosing who doesn’t make it. And she wasn’t sure yet what that meant for her.

"I'm just glad it's over," she said. "At least for now, I guess."


Alaric walked in shortly after Hayden and looked around. He ignored the donuts, too sweet. But coffee was one of the earthly comforts he had allowed himself without overthinking it. The bitterness was familiar, grounding, and it reminded him of Limbo. Which is why he never put anything like cream or sugar in it. After all, who wanted dessert soup? He got a cup and leaned against the wall near the front, opting to leave the chairs and desks for the students.

He was wearing black combat boots and forest-green pants. The colors softened the severity of those he usually wore. Though every crease still showed that restless Limbo-born tension. His tee-shirt was a fitted charcoal gray, dark enough to blend seamlessly with his current color palette.

Despite the casual outfit, he still carried that unmistakable aura of someone half in two worlds: part sorcerer, part demonic Lord. But all mutant.

"They fought bravely," he said. "It was a battle worthy of ballads and firelight."

“Yea what did they look like? Were they all Bony and stuff like Nosferatu or really handsome like Dracula?” Sarah asked, feeling a little disappointed she’d missed seeing the vampires in person.

Joey slipped into the room, carrying his own cup of bitter bean juice he had prepared, having learned quickly that, with the possible exception of Alaric, he preferred his coffee stronger and darker than was usual for the mansion inhabitants. He did help himself to donuts, though before taking a seat. "They look like the boys your parents warned you about, with too much makeup, tattoos, and so on," he said flippantly. "They also bleed black goop and turn into dust. It took hours to get it out of my fur, and I am still picking it out from places best left unmentioned," he groused, hiding discomfort behind the humour. It was the first time he had actually harmed anyone intentionally, much less killed them, using his mutant powers, and the bloodlust disconcerted him. "We did get some useful information from Mr. Renfield and a couple of presents from the resident mischief."

Maeve had been quiet longer than usual — which, for Maeve, meant something was wrong.

She finally lifted her gaze from the desk when Rahne’s powdered-sugar folklore drifted through the room like someone reading a ghost story over breakfast.

“Rahne’s right, y’know,” Maeve said, rubbing her thumb along the paper cup in her hands, though she hadn’t taken a sip of the coffee inside. It smelled wrong. Everything smelled wrong now. “Not about the dancin’ bit — well, also that — but Ireland’s full of stories about blood drinkers. We’ve been warnin’ our weans about ‘em longer than Hollywood’s been gettin’ it wrong.”

She leaned back in her chair, eyes half-lidded but sharp.

“There’s the Dearg Due — the Red Woman. Pretty, quiet, dead as winter. She’d lure men out at night and drain them dry. No fangs, no capes, no caves. Just hunger and a grudge.” She tapped her nail against the desk. “And the Abhartach — little bastard who kept comin’ back from the grave no matter how many times they buried him. Had to pin him down with thorn trees and a sword forged in magic.”

She shrugged, a thin almost-smile tugging at her mouth.

“Point is, we’ve always known monsters like this. They just don’t usually dress like they’re in a bad rock band.”

Her fingers slipped unconsciously toward her throat — then halted, curling into a fist instead.

“And Rahne’s right about somethin’ else too,” Maeve added, voice dropping just a shade. “They’re charming… until they’re not. Beautiful… until you’re close enough to see the teeth.”

Her gaze slid to Joey.

“Black goop tracks with the stories. Undead blood’s no good to anyone. Rot from the inside out.”

Then she looked at Jean — just long enough to show she wasn’t entirely lost in whatever haze she’d walked in with.

“Folklore helps,” Maeve said, quieter now. “Our people used stories to survive things like this. Might be worth listenin’ to the old tales a bit more.”

Her foot tapped under the desk, restless.

She didn’t add the last part aloud:

Because some of those tales hit… closer than they used to.

“That’s part of why I wanted all of us to talk today. I wanted to collect all the information we know to be true about the vampires and separate it from the mythology that surrounds them. They’re dangerous and shrouded in mystery and I don’t want anyone else to be injured.” Jean stood up and picked up a piece of chalk before making her way over to the chalkboard. “What do we know about them?”

“They burn in the sunlight… that appears to be true.” Kennedy replied as stopped cleaning her dress now that the meeting had started. “And even though they can heal, when gravely injured or dismembered they die.”

“A wooden stake through the heart works.” Desmond said with a slight smile despite the air of anxious energy that surrounded him. Teammates being injured, especially Maeve, didn’t sit right with him and it placed him on edge.

“Good.” Jean commented as she wrote down the points they had made on the chalkboard in neat, bubbled letters. “What else?”

Maeve huffed out a short, humourless laugh, eyes flicking to the chalkboard and then away just as quickly.

“They bite. A lot. Don’t ask first, don’t stop when you tell ’em to, and they’ve a real fondness for the throat.” Her fingers twitched once on the desk before she stilled them. “Big fans of blood. Suck it out like it’s the last pint before closing time.”

She glanced sideways at Jennifer for half a second, something unspoken passing between them, then looked back to Jean.

“Subtle bunch, really.”

"Darkness is their friend," Alaric said. "They use it to hide, to strike, to disappear before you can counter." He exhaled slowly. "Speed’s their advantage."

“What about silver? Does that actually work?” Sarah asked, remember part of the Dracula Lore.

“None of us had any silver on us.” Kennedy replied to Sarah’s question as she took notes alongside Jean’s word on the blackboard. Maybe they could review the text in the ancient libraries of Kamar-Taj for more information about vampires, the mystical city was filled with magical text and tomes. “So it might be worth trying? It’s just scary to gamble on something working when they are so fast and so lethal, make the wrong choice and you get hurt…or worse.”

Jennifer was fidgeting. She shared that look of understanding with Maeve. Maybe they were reacting a bit differently, like Jean had thought, but the essence of it was the same. Predatory, nocturnal, tempting, yet terrifying. They understood each other. She wasn't sure anyone else in the room really understood. "Xarus," Jennifer found herself blurting out. She looked at Maeve and then scanned the rest of the room, seeming hesitant. "One of them is called Xarus. An important one. I've been..." She trailed off. She was hesitant to share.

Jean's brow furrowed but at the same time she was intrigued Jennifer’s comment, her own telepathy did not work on the vampires so when Jennifer mentioned the possibility of learning something or communicating with them it was definitely worth investigating despite the danger it posed. “Go on…” she encouraged Jennifer to share more, to tell them what she was feeling. “Any information is important, anything you can share might help turn the tables in our favor.”

Jennifer looked down. "I've been having dreams about him," she said softly.

Maeve went quiet when Jennifer said dreams.

Not startled. Just… alert. Like someone had brushed past a sore spot.

She leaned back in her chair, arms folding loosely, eyes drifting to the chalkboard without really seeing it. “Back home,” she said after a moment, voice casual but careful, “all the stories about things that drink blood… they’re never just about the bitin’.”

She shifted, one foot tapping under the desk. “It’s always the after. The way people start thinkin’ things they didn’t before. Wantin’ things they’d swear blind weren’t theirs.”

Her mouth twitched, almost a smile — but it didn’t quite land.

“I’ve caught myself doin’ it,” she added, quieter. “Thoughts just… poppin’ in. Nothin’ I’d act on. Just… there.” She shrugged, like she could shake them off if she tried hard enough. “Doesn’t mean anythin’. Probably.”

Her fingers tightened together anyway.

She glanced sideways at Jennifer this time and didn’t look away.

“I believe you,” Maeve said simply. No hesitation. No softening. Just truth, stated plain.

Then she leaned back again, fingers lacing together like she needed something to do with them. “If you’re dreamin’ about him, it’s not random. Stories don’t make that stuff up for nothin’. There’s always a reason someone starts showin’ up in your head.”

Her jaw tightened, just a touch. “Doesn’t mean he’s got you. Or that you’re losin’ yourself.” A pause. “Just means somethin’s reachin’. Or tryin’ to.”

She huffed a quiet breath. “And I don’t like the idea of you dealin’ with that on your own.”

Her voice dropped, almost offhand, but there was weight in it. “None of this feels like coincidence anymore.”

Jennifer reached for Maeve's hand. "I wasn't planning on dealing with it on my own," she said. "But it does feel...I don't know. It feels personal. More personal than...I don't know. I don't know the right words."

“Intimate.” Jean replied with a slight frown, she was no stranger to the world of suggestive and manipulative telepathy. It was a route many unethical telepaths dared to take, much like Mastermind of the Hellfire Club.

“It’s awful, like you’re no longer in control of your own choice… yet they feel like they are your own choices.” Kennedy replied. While her own experiences were related to telepaths over vampires she could sympathize with what Jennifer was explaining.

“I’ll keep watch while you sleep.” Jean said as her knotted brow expressed her level of concern. “I might not be able to hear the vampires themselves but I can pick up on your mental state and movements around the mansion. I’ll do my best to keep you safe until we find a cure.” She stood up and added the words no telepathy to the list of abilities they had managed to discover about the vampires.

“As for what comes next,” Jean changed the topic of their discussion away from what they had already learned to what they needed to discover. “Based on the items Joey’s rats delivered to him, we have two leads for where to find the rest of the New York vampires.”

Jean placed the two items on the desk in front of her, a business card made of thick off-white paper with neatly pressed letters stamped across it.

Robert Quinn House of Erebus

The second was a matchbook made of sleek black cardboard, the name and address of a club in New York City written in red across it.

Club Blood 421 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10014

“The club is located on the edge of the Meatpacking District which is filled with edgy, underground clubs, warehouses, and late-night spots. Such a tongue-in-cheek name is probably just taken for edgy publicity over a more macabre meaning.” Jean said as she tapped the book on the table. It was brazen and cocky advertising and a true testament to how fearless the vampires were.

She sat down on the edge of the desk as she folded her arms across her chest and surveyed the Alternate Class. “My question to you is, what’s next? What is your plan for infiltrating and stopping what very well could be a nest of vampires?”

Jennifer looked thoughtful. "I'm sure they're aware of our efforts by now," Jennifer said. "But they also know the effects of the blood and might want to draw Maeve and me in. They might want to try that tack with others too if anyone could make it convincing. Maybe we let them think it's working or that we're on the fence. Push for more information and to get further in, play hard to get. That there's a little truth to it is a risk," she admitted, "but also makes it easier to sell."

Joey had been searching his brain. There had been a thought nagging at him, and it had taken him a few minutes to pin it down. It was something Renfield had said. "I think we should be cautious," he said. "When I was talking to the hotdog vendor, he was dismissive of the vampires we fought. I don't think he intended to share much, but he made it sound as if they were considered careless and were not fully mature. He mentioned a master. If there is that much of a formal structure to them, we might want to tread carefully lest we cause a bigger issue than we solve."

"We should definitely be careful," Jennifer agreed. "That's the essence of my idea. Trying to play their game and play to their overconfidence and their expectations instead of rushing in throwing powers around. But I have to point out, Joey, this couldn't be a bigger issue for Maeve or for me. This is life and death for us."

Maeve’s chair scraped softly as she leaned forward, forearms braced on the desk. The restlessness in her had finally found a direction.

“No,” she said flatly. “This isn’t just a bigger issue for us. This is the issue.”

Her gaze flicked to Joey, then back to Jean, jaw tight. “They didn’t just try to kill people. They took somethin’ from us. They made it personal.” Her fingers curled, nails biting into her palm. “And I don’t think they expect us to be angry about it. I think they expect us to be scared. Confused. Grateful for scraps.”

She shook her head once. “That’s a mistake.”

Maeve glanced at Jennifer — not for permission, just acknowledgment — then kept going. “If they think this bite means we’re halfway theirs, then good. Let ’em think that. Let ’em get comfortable.” Her voice dropped, edged with heat. “Because I’m not interested in bein’ studied or tempted or saved.”

A pause. Then, sharper: “I want payback.”

She leaned back again, arms folding, chin lifting in challenge. “Not reckless. Not stupid. But I want them to understand they didn’t make a mistake bitin’ us.”

Her eyes burned, bright and feral in a way that hadn’t been there before.

“They made enemies.”

The teenager looked between the girls. "I didn't say we shouldn't do anything, and they didn't make any friends with me. Ripping supposedly mythical creatures apart with my hands is not what I had in mind for high school. I am suggesting we try to do this without starting a war, and we have no idea which pieces are even on the board. For all we know, we could be walking into a turf war or cause one by taking out the wrong person."

“No way!” Desmond interjected and his barky brows dropped in disapproval. “We’re not just sending you into the lion’s den alone and hope that you can make it out of there alright. If you’re seeing this guy in your dreams, what will he be like in person?” Desmond reached out for Maeve in that moment, his massive hand trying to touch her, shield her, from the very idea that she would walk into a vampire’s den without him. “You were both hurt, we can’t afford you to be turned… or worse.”

“What if we all went inside?” Kennedy proposed. There was merit in the idea of trying to sneak in and collect information. But there were risks to it, especially when the club was a public location. Power use and a heavy hand could hurt civilians and bad press would make this a mutant problem not a vampire one. Kennedy almost laughed at how crazy all of that sounded in her head. “Maybe as an offering, a gift for the vampires showing that Jennifer and Maeve are interested in joining? It would get us into the heart of the club if they thought we were willing participants.”

“We could all go… except for you.” Kennedy glanced over at Desmond as she spoke, his large tree-like frame and aggressive approach had scared off the vendor at Coney Island. There was no denying that mutants made people uncomfortable and Desmond was very intimidating when he wanted to be.

“It’s a bad idea then!” Desmond snapped back in defense, his own insecurities about his appearance making him angrier than warranted.

Alaric had been leaning back against the wall, arms folded, listening more than speaking. At Desmond’s outburst, he pushed off the wall and straightened, his expression calm but sharp, eyes flicking between Maeve and Kennedy before settling on Desmond. "Des," he said evenly, voice cutting through the tension without raising it. "Nobody’s talking about sending anyone to their death." He paused, thinking. "Kennedy’s not wrong about one thing, vampires seem to understand invitation and intent. If they think Jennifer and Maeve are walking in by choice, doors open that force never will." His gaze softened briefly when it returned to Maeve. "That doesn’t mean they walk in unprotected."

Alaric shifted. "I have my Shadow Gates for emergency pulls. So if something goes sideways, they can be out before anyone knows something went wrong. And if this guy from Maeve's dreams is real?" His mouth curved into a humorless half-smile, "I'd very much like to meet him on our terms. That said, we plan it clean. Quiet. No feeding, no spectacle, no civilians harmed." His eyes darkened slightly. "And if the vampires break the rules first…then all bets are off."

Hayden didn’t jump into the discussion. She rarely did when things got loud. When Alaric finished speaking and Desmond’s anger hung in the air, she finally spoke. It was quiet, but clear enough. "I don’t like the idea of pretending," she admitted softly. "Not… after what we just did. Walking into a club and smiling, letting them think we want to be there..." She shook her head, "I dunno...."

She glanced up then. “But I do know charging in won’t fix anything. It didn’t before. It just made things messier. And it doesn’t make the part after any easier to live with either." She exhaled, slow and shaky. “If Jennifer and Maeve go in, they shouldn’t be alone. If things do go south, I can help with getting civilians out. Pressurize the water in the pipes and walls and blow them. Use is as a reason to evacuate. And maybe streams to direct people to the doors."

Maeve’s head snapped toward Desmond, heat flashing behind her eyes.

“Stop,” she said sharply, then caught herself and dragged in a breath. “Just— stop talkin’ about us like we’re made of glass.”

She shifted in her seat, shoulders squaring even as his hand hovered close, protective. “I know you’re tryin’ to keep me safe. I do. But listen to how it sounds.” Her voice wavered just a touch before firming again. “Like we’re already lost. Like we can’t be trusted to stand on our own two feet.”

Her fingers curled against the edge of the desk. “We didn’t fold when they bit us. We didn’t turn. We’re still here.”

Maeve leaned forward, restless energy simmering just under her skin. “And they think they’ve got us figured out. That this”— she brushed her throat once, quick and sharp —“means we’re weakened. That we’re tempted. That we’re halfway theirs.”

A humourless huff left her. “So fine. Let ’em think that.”

Her gaze swept the room, daring but controlled. “If walkin’ into that place actin’ like I’m curious, like the pull’s gettin’ to me, makes them sloppy? If it makes them talk?” She shrugged. “That’s not surrender.”

She paused, jaw tight. “I’m not sayin’ we go in blind. I’m not sayin’ we don’t have exits, backups, people watchin’ our backs.” A beat. “I’m sayin’ we don’t pretend we’re powerless either.”

Maeve finally looked back at Desmond, the edge softening even if the fire didn’t go out.

“I don’t need you to save me,” she said quietly. “But I do need you to see me. I’m scared too — I just don’t want that to be the only thing anyone sees.”

Her shoulders dropped a fraction, like the fight had taken something out of her. “Please.”

"Failure isn't an option for us," Jennifer added. "This isn't just another mission for us. It's life or death. The dangers, the risks, of staying like this, they're nothing to shrug off."

“Fine, you two go in and play the curious card but I think the rest of the team should go in with you.” Desmond grumbled as he folded his arms across his chest in capitulation. He didn’t like this game of wills and temptation but he also knew when he was in the minority. “I didn't mean it like that…” he grumbled to Maeve under his breath.

“I have a private eye connection in the city.” Jean offered to the X-Men as their plan was starting to take shape. “She helped Scott a few years ago, her name is Jessica Jones. I could ask her to case the joint and collect information about the place, maybe give us a map of the building and what goes on there after hours, but it might take her a few days to collect that information.”

“I wouldn’t mind going to Kamar-Taj and doing some research.” Kennedy added in, “Their mystical library had some unconventional occult books that might prove resourceful. Unless the dreams are too much and you two can’t wait?”

Joey thought for a moment. "Could you also ask Ms. Jones what she knows about Robert Quinn? Maybe there are two sides to play here, or a good business vampire who does not want a public bloodbath. Also, does anyone have a fake ID? I don't even have a driver's license so I really doubt any bouncer is going to let me into a club."

“I can get you through the front door if the bouncer isn’t a vampire.” Jean rarely used her telepathy in such a way because the power of suggestion was an indomitable ability that made most people wary of telepaths. “But if you are being offered as a gift thanks to Jennifer and Maeve’s desire to join the cover, they might not even bother to check your ID.”

“There is always Alaric’s portal,” Kennedy added in. “We can wait outside and once Maeve or Jennifer locate a good location to sneak us into, Alaric can open something for us.”

“Yes, I can serve as a bridge for telepathic communications between all of you while using Cerebro.” Jean nodded her head in agreement, “Provided all of you keep your mental channels open and available to me. There are risks and advantages to both plans, do you want to stick together or separate?”

“I say we stick together.” Kennedy replied without hesitation, “When I was taken away from the crowds and the main party at the Hellfire Gala, that’s when things became dangerous for me. There is safety in numbers.”

"That's true," Jennifer said. "But vampires also feel that. They'll be more guarded and threatened if we're there in numbers, maybe even with the pretext that Maeve and I are betraying the rest of you." She frowned in slightly distaste. She didn't really love the role she was going to play in this, even if a lot of the idea had come from her. "Not necessarily disagreeing but trying to work out how to balance the pros and cons. I do want everybody able to act in an instant but with Alaric and Jean's help that can potentially be true at distance."

“We screwed everything up at Coney Island when we stayed together,” Desmond added, casting his vote. “We did a better job collecting information after we split into smaller groups. Besides, I can’t just walk in. If I’m teleported in afterward, I can actually help when it’s needed.”

Joey tagged back in. "If we're going to do this, I think we should split up. Everyone together would look more like a threat than a petition to join up. And, no offence intended, but the idea that Des there wants to be a vampire is absurd. He's probably immune anyway and would break their teeth. As much as I don't like the idea, Maeve, Jennifer, myself, and maybe one more would be less threatening and more believable." He took a deep breath. He really did not want to go anywhere near the Meatpacking District, considering the reputation it had, but it seemed he was outvoted on that front. His next letter home was certainly going to have a lot of lies by omission in it.

The team hesitated for a few minutes longer. After weighing their options, they agreed that Maeve and Jennifer would go in first. Once they found a secure location, they would alert the group via telepathy, and Alaric would teleport the others inside.

“I think you have a solid plan,” Jean said, joining the discussion, “but I recommend that Alaric and the rest of you keep watch from a location just outside the club. It’s better to have eyes on the building at all times.” She paused, then continued, “Since we can afford to wait a few days, I’ll ask Jessica to scout the club and the surrounding buildings, and to investigate the man on this business card. Preparedness will work in your favor.”

A thoughtful silence followed as everyone considered the plan to confront the vampires. Jean took the opportunity to address the next matter. She let out a long sigh and squared her shoulders before speaking again; it was strange to see her so nervous and unsettled.

“While you were away at Coney Island, there was a visitor to the mansion. Someone you’ve all met before, though it was under less than desirable circumstances. After speaking with him, I’ve decided to give him a second chance and have allowed him to stay at Xavier’s.”

Jean cleared her throat and looked past the X-Men toward the door behind them. “Logan, would you come in here, please?”

After a brief pause, the man who had attacked the school and nearly killed many of them over a year ago appeared in the doorway. His stocky, disgruntled frame and gruff exterior did little to convince anyone that he was a reformed man.

“As you know,” Jean continued, “Logan was infected with Omega Sentinel nanites thanks to Shinobi Shaw. He has been struggling with their removal, in addition to the Legacy Virus. I have agreed to help him recover from both conditions. Because his treatment will take time, he will be staying here and living in the boathouse by the lake.”

Maeve went still.

Not frozen — coiled.

Her hand tightened on the edge of the desk, wood creaking faintly under her grip as her jaw set. She didn’t look away from Logan. Didn’t blink. There was a heat in her chest that felt too quick, too sharp, like her body had already decided he was a threat before her head caught up.

“That’s him,” she said quietly, more statement than question.

Her fingers dug in a little harder, just enough for the desk to give a soft crack beneath her palm. Not shattered. Not dramatic. But damaged. The sound cut through the room all the same.

Maeve exhaled through her nose and forced herself to let go.

“So this is just… how it goes now?” she asked, voice tight but controlled. “People nearly kill us, disappear, and then show up again like it’s a weather problem?” Her eyes flicked briefly to Jean, then back to Logan, hard as flint. “You don’t get to pretend you’re just another patient.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms folding, shoulders rigid. The hunger under her skin snarled quietly, urging her closer, louder — and she hated that it reacted to him at all.

Logan didn’t step any farther into the room.

He stayed where Jean had left him, half in the doorway, like he was giving everyone an exit whether they wanted one or not. He took the measure of the room the way he always did. Exits. Distances. Heartbeats. The way the air shifted when Maeve spoke his name like it tasted bad.

He didn’t look away from her.

She was wound tight. Coiled, yeah. He knew that posture. Knew that heat. It was familiar enough to feel like a bruise.

When he spoke, it wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

“You’re right,” he said. No argument in it. Just fact. “I don’t get to pretend anything.”

A pause. Long enough to let the room breathe.

“I hurt people here,” he went on, eyes steady now, not flinching from the weight of it. “Didn’t choose it. Doesn’t matter. End result’s the same. You remember the damage, not the reason.”

His gaze flicked, briefly, to Jean. Then back to Maeve.

“I didn’t come back askin’ for forgiveness. And I’m not lookin’ to be trusted.” A corner of his mouth twitched, humourless. “Hell, if I were you, I wouldn’t.”

He shifted his weight, boots quiet against the floor. Smaller than some of them. Denser than he looked.

“I’m here because I was sick, half out of my head, and she”—a nod to Jean—“gave me help when she didn’t have to. I’m here to get fixed enough to stop bein’ a problem. That’s it.”

Another beat.

“If that means you keep your distance, fine. If that means you watch me like I’m one bad day away from doin’ it again… also fine.” His eyes hardened just a fraction. “I don’t blame you.”

Then, softer. Not weak. Just honest.

“But don’t mistake me for someone who forgot what he did. I live with it same as you do.”

His gaze dipped, just for a second, to the faint crack in the desk Maeve had left behind. When he looked back up, there was no challenge in it.

“I’m not here to sit at your table or ask for grace. I’ll stay out of your way. You don’t owe me anything.”

A pause.

“And for what it’s worth,” he added, low, “your instincts aren’t wrong. Hold onto ’em. They’ll keep you alive.”

He went quiet then, shoulders still, waiting. Not pushing. Not retreating.

Letting them decide what came next.

Joey looked back and forth between the two. Clearly, something existed there, and he had no idea what. Of course, he was vaguely aware of Logan. It would be impossible to know anything about the history of the institute and not, but he was clearly missing huge amounts of the finer detail points. The man smelled atrocious to him, but Jean let him into the house. That did not mean the man wasn't dangerous, but it did suggest they could at least expect signs instead of murder in the dark. He stepped forward and stuck out a hand, "Josiah Martin, but Joey, please," he said. "You ain't done nothing to me yet. Keep it that way, don't eat the rats, don't make the munchkins cry, and for the love of God at least try to not smell like a distillery or smoking lounge around them and I won't have any reason to test what a a colony of hungry rodents can do to you," he said using his tone to convey the incomplete seriousness of the threat. "Oh, and if you and Maeve must get something out of your system, could you do it a couple of counties over? I have not been here long enough to need character building through homelessness."

Alaric remembered that battle, but he'd been focused on something else entirely. The Soulsword; which would allow him to defeat Belasco and rescue his people, as well as the woman he considered his Mother.

He listened to the exchange and grinned when Joey mentioned the rats. He had a feeling that would always be a top-tier discussion at the mansion. Especially among the teenage girls.

"Alaric Thane," he said, looking at Logan and not moving to extend a hand to shake. He didn't seem like that kind of man anyway. "You've gained enough trust of my stepmother to have a place here to heal. But that does not automatically gain you my trust." He paused for a moment before you continuing. "You're a fearsome warrior and I respect that. But it's only the first leg of a much longer marathon."

Jennifer frowned thoughtfully. She had been at the school for those events but she hadn't been directly involved. She looked at Maeve. She didn't say anything yet.

“Hell no!” Desmond roared as feelings of being helpless and no longer in control pulsed through him and set his blood to boil. He couldn’t save Maeve and Jennifer from the vampire’s bite, he couldn’t stand by them as they looked death in the face but he would be damned if he just quietly allowed for someone like Logan to invade the school. “You don’t get a second chance!”

The massive tree of a man quickly stood up, his chair clattering on the floor as it fell over before he traversed the room in a few large strides to confront Logan. “You hurt people, you attacked our home when it was filled with civilians and children.”

Desmond’s hand rose up and the awful twisting vines that had ripped Logan apart during their last fight stretched out for him once more. “GET OUT!”

“Desmond, that’s enough!” Jean’s voice cut through the room with a sharp and assertive tone, a reminder that her gentle demeanor was not weakness and she could be stern and firm when the situation called for it.

The crawling vines from Desmond’s touch suddenly stopped, his whole body frozen in place from Jean’s telekinetic hold on him. There was a long, tense pause as the group took in the scene, Desmond was a few short inches away from strangling Logan in response to his arrival.

Eventually, Desmond’s temper calmed and Jean eased up on her hold on him.

“You’re benched.” Jean replied before anyone else could respond, “No more missions until you learn to control that building temper of yours. Hot emotions like that make an X-Men careless and that’s when people get hurt… or worse.”

Desmond’s green eyes narrowed at Jean as the building pressure of his upset and the embarrassment that was now creeping in flooded his mind with a swirl of hot and frustrated emotions. Rather than fight back or reply, he merely stormed out of the room.

Jean huffed out a short, loud sigh as the only indication of her own feelings before her shoulders softened and she addressed the group as a whole once more. “I trust you will try to make Logan feel welcomed while he is here, or at least grant him some civility.”

“Ms. Grey?” Kennedy raised her hand in a request to speak, she wasn’t sure why but it felt like the right thing to do. “Can I go to Kamar-Taj and see if they have any information.”

“I’ll reach out to Lorna.” Jean still seemed tense but no longer angry, ““X-Men you are dismissed. We’ll plan on going to Club Blood in a few days once I hear back from Jessica Jones.”

Alaric watched Desmond storm out of the briefing and shook his head. So much potential, but clothed in so much anger. He wondered if the tree-man would even be around when they got back from Club Blood.

When Jean said she would contact Lorna about Kennedy visiting Kamar-Taj to research their ancient library, he perked up. He turned to Jean, "The jet would take too long. I can open a Shadow Gate to the main courtyard quickly enough. Besides, I would like to see how Mother Askani, the Elders, and my people fair. It's been a while since I last saw them. What with the Legacy Virus and all."

Joey stood up. "I am going to go see if I can calm Desmond down. I shouldn't be hard to find when we're ready to go."

"Thank you Joey," Jean replied as the tension in the room started to fade and the team began to disperse. "Everyone, please remain diligent while we wait for Jessica to investigate these vampires, hopefully we can figure out what is real about them and what is folklore."

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