Chapter 159 – Target

[2009 – October]

The telepathic cry breached Emma's mental defenses as if they were non-existent, causing her to stagger and fall to her knees while the glass in her hand hit the floor tiles and shattered, cutting her palm deeply.

Her mind was already exhausted from the nightmare that had plagued her, causing her to be in an especially vulnerable state.

In response, she just lashed out with her psychic powers instinctively and vaguely took note of the destruction she caused, the sound of wood splintering and stone shattering echoing through the air while her eyes were closed shut.

Cold sweat ran down her back while she was kneeling on the cold floor, her limbs trembling, as she tried to push away the heart-rendering pain that had accompanied the cry, all the while trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Suddenly, she felt someone appear by her side, a strong pair of hands trying to take hold of her shoulders to hold her up, a distant voice reaching her ears. Emma didn't know who it was though as her mind was still in turmoil and she could hardly focus on her surroundings.

Spurned on by the foreign and dark emotions that clouded her mind for the moment, she struck out with her telepathy as well as firing a bolt of pure psionic energy, her blows as lethal as she could manage.

Though it didn't seem to have any effect, even though such a telepathic blow would have been enough to wipe out half a city while the psionic energy bolt could have even pierced through the armor of a tank.

Instead, the only reaction was a single word uttered with a tone that made one's soul tremble.

"Enough!", a dark voice rang out, the atmosphere quivering at the sheer might contained in it.

Her own mind and body froze for a moment as she was finally freed from her stupor, instinctive fear pressuring her existence for a single moment.

Slowly opening her tightly-shut eyes, Emma saw her younger brother kneeling beside her, inky darkness coiling around his bare upper body, slowly dispersing as he seemed to rein in his power.

His eyes were pits of blackness, his beautiful green irises reappearing only after a few long seconds as he stared at her worriedly, the frown on his face a sign of his barely suppressed rage.

"Who attacked you?", he questioned darkly, and Emma could feel Elijah's bloodlust as he did so.

Yet his movements were incredibly gentle as he took her bleeding palm into his hands, inspecting the wound for a moment before he did something that she could neither see nor begin to understand, causing her palm to heal in but a few short seconds.

Looking up into her younger brother's eyes, his terrifying presence wrapped around her protectively, a feeling of indescribable comfort and safety sprouted in her wounded heart.

"Emma!", Elijah urged lightly while a white flame started to burn in his eyes, his fingers softly brushing back a few strands of her platinum hair that had shadowed her face.

Her mind raced as she tried to find the answer to her younger brother's question while at the same time, she did her best to suppress the urge to just curl up in the safety of his embrace, to hide from the terrors that this night had awakened in her memories.

With her mental faculties somewhat restored though, Emma displayed the full competency of an Omega-class telepath as she quickly spread her senses and analyzed the origin of the telepathic cry that had suddenly breached her defenses.

As she did so though, even the last bits of blood drained from her face as the tremors in her limbs returned, understanding blooming in her mind.

There were only two logical explanations for such a thing, one being that the other party was vastly more powerful than herself. The cry though, while piercing, lacked the intensity and sheer strength of a mind that was considerably more powerful than her own.

The only other explanation that came to her mind was the fact that mutant powers could have strange effects on blood relatives. In her case, for example, she could not enter Cordelia's mind even though her younger sister was not a mutant herself.

In that same sense, her powers were weakened massively when she tried to use her telepathy on Christian, even though he was not wholly immune to her abilities.

Elijah was naturally a different case, as Emma had not been able to enter his mind from day one, though if that was because he was too powerful or because they were blood-related, she did not know.

It stood to reason that another mutant that was related to her by blood might be able to just ignore her own mental defenses even if that mutant was weaker, or just not strong enough to overcome her defenses by themselves.

' … Mother … Mother … Mother … '

This single word reverberated in her mind as Emma thought about who might have called out to her while remembering what had been done to her years ago, what had been taken from her.

Her eyes wide in horror, she failed at keeping her calm as she voiced out with trembling lips: "M-My daughter ... S-someone is hurting my daughter … "

Listening to her words, the white glow in Elijah's gaze vanished as a horrible calmness settled in his slightly-narrowed, emerald eyes.

"Who?", her younger brother asked quietly as he took hold of her and carried her to the wide armchair in the living room, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

And yet, Emma knew that anyone else that might have heard him would have hardly been able to stop themselves from shuddering in fright if they were able to sense how his presence changed into something dark and wholly malevolent, demonic shadows and life-devouring darkness forming a vortex in the depths of his hard green eyes.

The barely suppressed thirst for violence though seemed strangely comforting to her and it helped her regain her calm, her anguished heart freezing over as the frail and hesitant facets of her being retreated under the icy wrath of the White Queen.

"I don't know.", she calmly replied to Elijah, who kneeled on the floor in front of the armchair, her nails digging into the soft leather, "But whoever they are, they better pray that I don't find them."

Snorting rather derisively, her younger brother retorted with steel in his voice: "Even prayer won't save them, not from me."

…

It had barely been two hours since I had helped a sleepy Jean to strip off her party dress and silk panties before having aided her in slipping into one of my shirts, after which I had helped her into the bed before changing into something more comfortable myself and joining her.

Forcing my body to sleep with her in my embrace, I had woken up the moment my instincts had alerted me that something was wrong. It had taken less than a second for my Extrasensory Perception to shift my focus to Emma, her presence having felt 'unbalanced' and distraught.

Having moved to her side by ripping open a gateway through the Darkforce Dimension, I had been ready to unleash some gratuitous violence on whoever or whatever had caused her harm but what I had found was outside of my expectations.

I had been wondering for a while now if the Stepford Cuckoos existed in this Universe, and now I had my answer. And a target.