Chapter 72: Out the Way Tay

Brontë wasn't very social. He hadn't been for a long time. When Ilyana asked him if he wanted to go for a ride, part of him warmed at the idea and wanted to say yes. A large part of him.

But behind her the man in the white hood remained. Shoulder to shoulder with another man who smelled like wet dog…. A teen who reeked of burned leather and fire. And the not-vampire.

Fate seemed to be on his side because the second she asked, all of his dogs crowded him— reminding her a muscle car couldn't fit a canine vampire hunting squad.

Which led them to their current set up.

Alone.

No new bodies he couldn't trust.

No prying eyes itching at the back of his neck.

Just him, an old friend, and his dogs.

Marcus Garvey park looked amazing at night. But if the walk with Ilyana was his first time there, he wouldn't have caught it.

His eyes were elsewhere….

"So….. How have you been?" Bronte broke the awkward silence and dog watching they'd engaged in for the last ten minutes.

"Good. Nothing too crazy. For a while I was training to join the X-Men's newest line up but the chemistry was…. Off. Then we split entirely."

Brontë nodded along, unsatisfied with her robotic reply, "How have you been really?"

Ilyana took a deep breath, "Busy. Busy is good. It keeps us strong— and focused. But I do wish I had more time to indulge in other things…. How about you? Have you been indulging in other things…? Any new hobbies….. interests…romance?"

"Romance? Are we in a black and white film?" Bronte questioned.

"What? I was just wondering…."

"I feel you. But nah…. I've been out the way."

"It seems you've been busy too— even more than me. Ever since you left…." Ilyana trailed off, fiddling with her hands inside her jacket pocket. He could hear the jewelry on her fingers clinking.

"What?"

Ilyana fidgeted a while longer before steeling herself and looking familiar again. "Well I just— everyone back at the Institute was following your travels the whole time. Cypher— Douglas, hacked Prof. Xavier's databases weekly. You…. You guys were everywhere. Canada, Brazil… Russia ….Wakanda…. You resurrected an entire island with your Weather-Warlock Magic…. Did you know you're the King of Krakoa?? The island won't work at full capacity because it only listens to you…. Now you're here…. Back home. Trying to hide. Hunting Vampires. And even then, you're on billboards across the city with your music."

Bronte looked at her.

Her cheeks had a rosy tint to them as she looked to the floor. One of her hands exited her hoodie pocket and swept her hair behind her ear, revealing dark black gauges in her earlobe and tattoos crawling up her slender neck.

"I'm sorry…. I just. You did all that sometimes at fifteen with only your brothers and sisters. I wish I made you stay. I feel….. guilt."

Brontë punched her in the shoulder, causing her to stumble sideways a few steps before recovering.

"Don't. We know who's at fault. And we know being Mutants doesn't guarantee a good life. I had to stand on business. I did." Bronte stuffed his hands in his pockets and exhaled a plum of smoke due to the coldness of midnight air.

"….and now?"

"Now you're here. I won't front, I didn't think I would see you again." Bronte jumped at the chance to change the subject.

"Really?" Ilyana questioned.

"Man, yea. I haven't seen any of the others since that day. I kind of just thought that chapter of my life was wraps. What about you? You thought I'd come back into your life?"

Ilyana glanced at him coldly— jokingly.

"That makes them goodbye tears pointless, you know?"

Ilyana gasped.

For the first time in a long time Bronte laughed.

"Those tears were genuine! And I hate crying."

"I know— I'm playing."

Ilyana shrugged, "To answer your question. Yes. I did. If it went any longer I would've just tracked you down."

"Oh word?" Bronte raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

Ilyana nodded confidently, "I'm still interested in your magic."

"So…. What you were doing earlier with all them… other guys, wasn't you tracking me?"

"Bronte…. We had no idea that was you. I was just as surprised as you were when you saw me." Ilyana started before stopping.

Brontë stopped mid stride to face her, "What?"

"You aren't using your magic against the Vampires. I would've known weeks ago if you did. You have a very obvious path of destruction when you fight. Not anymore. Why…?"

"Come on, let's keep walking."

Brontë led Ilyana onward. She watched him as he watched the trees overhead. Moonlight sprinkled in like snowfall between the leaves, dying the earth and drowning the darkness in winter aesthetics.

"You followed my story vaguely over the years…"

"Mhm."

"But the details…. The little percussion beats and chimes and back-samples that ran with the whole song of my life. You didn't hear those parts. That's good. Shit got ugly sometimes. Towards the end it got too ugly. I can heal from almost anything done to my body. But up here I'm like any man, woman and whatever else." Bronte poked his head.

"You have a mental block." Ilyana presumed.

"That's what Reed said."

"That's fairly common in Mutants. Our powers are so biological— and magic—"

"Requires a certain state of mind….. I remember." Bronte repeated her words from years ago that ultimately led to him learning his powers in the first place.

Ilyana smiled for a second before going serious. Her thin black eyebrows pushed together in determination. "We need to get into contact with Dr Strange."

"No." Bronte replied, stopping beside one of his dogs as they took a piss on a light pole.

"What— why?"

"I'm done asking for handouts and chances."

"People usually only say that when they need it most." Ilyana walked ahead of him, switching gracefully as she held her hands behind her back.

"Follow her. Being in the white womans presence releases excess serotonin in your brain. And something else in your p—"

"Mend. Shut the hell up." Bronte cleared his throat and caught up with Ilyana.

"Considering your… mental. You'd fit right in with the others." Ilyana said.

"You talking about your boy band?" Bronte clarified.

"Mhm….. We were tracking you for a reason. Blade thinks you have potential."

"Blade…?"

"When it comes to Vampires. He's the expert…. And he says something bad is coming. I've seen it. The Demons in the Limbo Dimension are rallying. They don't fear the Soulsword as much as they used to. Someone's amping them up."

"Daken."

Ilyana's head turned in a flash to look at him.

"Your brother?!"

Brontë nodded.

"Wait….. that makes sense. The prophecy isn't false either. Just misinterpreted….."

Now it was Bronte's turn to be confused. "What prophecy?"

"Blade got it from a Vampire a couple months back. We busted a pretty well developed Coven and found this text. He doesn't really let us look at it—"

"Bet, let's go see Blade. Right now." Bronte interrupted. Anything Daken, was his focus. Thankfully, Ilyana didn't mind.

Neither did the dogs.