Legends Read online

  Somehow finding the courage to look up at my executioner, I saw only the silhouette of its long snout, which dripped warm, foamy saliva on my neck. As the low-hanging lamp swung directly overhead, I caught a single glimpse of its eyes. They looked almost human. Apologetic, maybe.

  As I listened to the animal’s jaws clack into their most open position, I desperately fingered for Hallahan’s rusty shears. Just barely taking hold of a single handle, I swung the dull blades high in the air and plunged them deep into the beast’s woolly neck.

  As the creature let out a howl of clear agony, I rolled free of its grasp, bolted to my feet and ran as fast as I ever have or probably ever will.

  Charging onto the football field outside, I frantically fought for my bearings as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I heard the wounded monster stumbling to the groundskeeper’s doorway. The faded white numbers painted on the field’s grass told me that the thing was precisely fifty-two yards away from me.

  Maybe it couldn’t see me.

  A few steps later, I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t going to be that lucky. Wasting the time to look behind me, I could see that it was now only forty yards away. The thing was closing on me at an unbelievable pace.

  Thirty yards.

  Recognizing that there was no way that I could outrun him, I realized that I still had one chance to outdistance him. I frantically began tearing at the buttons of my shirt.

  Twenty yards.

  I could smell the stench of Hallahan’s insides on the monster. Ripping my last three buttons off, I discarded the garment and went to work on the thick leather belt around my chest. As my feet pumped and my trembling hands fumbled at the buckle, my restless wings fought hopelessly to free themselves.

  Ten yards.

  “Our Father who art in Heaven!” I yelled—instinctively, I suppose. Directly behind me, I could hear the animal’s staccato galloping. Panicked, I finally opened the belt... only to have the buckle catch on the strap’s final hole. Screaming, I raised my arms, and tore the belt off over my head. Gloriously, my beautiful, wonderful wings finally unfurled.

  Five yards.

  I poured on the speed, preparing for takeoff. I could feel its breath on my leg hair. My wings desperately searched for the lift they needed.

  The creature pounced.

  “Yes!” Finally, my throbbing wings found what they needed and my feet left the ground. . . just as the beast’s paw grabbed for my ankle!

  But it was too late,

  I didn’t dare look back. I had escaped within a millimeter of my life and my only plan was to flap my stupid wings as hard as I could until I made it back to the relative safety of school

  Reaching the campus, I suddenly realized that my shirtless body would require a little more explanation than I was ready to give in one night, so I made the difficult decision to first return to my dorm room. I had absolutely no idea what I would tell my roomie when I saw him.

  Arching my shoulders, my wings came together and shot straight up behind me as I rocketed through my room’s open window and landed with a resounding thump on the dusty floorboards. After all, I figured there was no harm in making my revelation a little dramatic for—

  “Benny?” I looked around, only to find my roommate’s bed unoccupied.

  “No ...” I whispered. What if that thing had gotten to other students as well? I collapsed my wings and threw on a baggy sweatshirt seconds before the door to my room slammed open.

  Terrified, I swung around... only to see a frantic Benny at the doorway.

  “Benny! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said breathlessly. “Where have you been, you moron? I heard screaming out in the fields and woke up . .. and, and you were gone. I went to see if you were with Father Tim, but he wasn’t in his quarters either. God, I thought you were dead, Warren! What were you doing out there?”

  “Benny, I’m fine! I couldn’t sleep, so I went out to ... to run some laps,” I lied unconvincingly. “We have to go get Headmaster White! Benny, I saw Hallahan get murdered! Something... something attacked him.”

  “Something?” he asked, staring at me with equal parts horror and confusion. “Was it. . . what, an animal?”

  “No” I whispered. “It was human, but different. It had something . . . extra.”

  * * *

  After answering questions as best I could for doubtful police officers, I walked across campus with Father Tim. Following Hallahan’s murder, no student could leave his room without being accompanied by a teacher. All classes were temporarily cancelled and “the Green,” as we referred to the big field that connected St. Ignatius’s various buildings, was abnormally silent. Our school’s ancient bell tower, located in the dead center of the Green, cast a long dark shadow over the two of us as we walked.

  We strolled in silence for a while before I finally said, “Father Tim, this sounds stupid, but... Do you think God makes some people better than others? Does he make some worse?”

  He was polite enough to pause and consider this even though he doubtlessly had an answer prepared already. “Well, Warren . . . God makes us all in His image. None of us are made better or worse than anyone else. We’re just different.”

  “But what about what those men were saying?” I asked. “About how maybe these murders could have been done by a ... by a mutant? Does God make mutants? Are they good or evil?”

  The pause seemed genuine this time. “Well, yes, I suppose even these mutations are God’s children, Warren. Whether they’re good or evil is up to them. God’s gift of free will is a glorious and terrifying thing. But if this mutant chooses to do evil—”

  Suddenly, a dark figure appeared from behind one of Grounds-keeper Hallahan’s untrimmed, oiphan hedges. Father Tim and I simultaneously leapt back in shock, only partially relieved to find out that it was actually Headmaster White.

  “What in God’s name are you putting into this boy’s head, Timothy?” ..........'

  “Good morning, Father. I—”

  “You heard what the detectives said! These mutants are the devil’s children! They are abominations in the eyes of God and must be destroyed!”

  “I beg your pardon, Father White,” Tim said sternly, boldly stepping closer to the headmaster. “But I do believe God’s only son would take issue with your stance!”

  As the men continued to argue dogma and stuff, I slowly slipped away and headed for the peace and quiet of my room. Upon arrival, I found anything but.

  “Chadwick von Stroheim is some kind of werewolf!” Benny said, as I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my unmade bed.

  “Good night, Benny. Please.”

  “Trust me on this one, Warren,” he pleaded. “That psycho must turn into some kind of monster at night. And then he kills his enemies!”

  “Sure,” I offered, pulling down the blinds to shut out the harsh morning sun.

  “I think he knows I’m onto him, too! War’, you should have seen the way he was looking at me at roll call this morning!” Benny’s words faded into the void as I promptly fell asleep.

  For the first time in ages, I didn’t dream of flying.

  I kind of wish I had.

  Those bloodcurdling screams returned as I was shocked awake by a sound that, surprisingly, didn’t come from my dreams. I pressed the snooze button on top of my alarm clock as a pathetic little light barely illuminated the time: 12:32 a.m.

  Slowly returning to alertness, I was horrified to see that Benny wasn’t in his bed. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t anywhere in the room. The screams continued.

  Forcing my shoes on, I darted into the hallway and saw another door to one of the dorm rooms open. It was Chadwick’s single, and it was empty. Benny had been right. Somehow, the transfer student was becoming the creature that killed Sullivan and Hallahan.

  Following the screams, I charged out onto the Green. Why wasn’t anyone else outside? How could they all sleep through the terrible noise? I spun around until I was dizzy, searching e
verywhere for the nearby yelling. The shouting was clearly audible, but there was no sign of Benny or the creature anywhere.

  Finally, I looked up. Five stories above, I saw two figures struggling at the top of St. Ignatius’s ancient bell tower.

  I knew Benny would be dead by the time I made it up the eighty-four stairs (being forced to run up them was a freshmen tradition), so I did the only thing I could. I pulled my sweatshirt off, feeling the cold night air against my chest as I ascended toward the top of the tower.

  Bobbing slowly in a holding pattern just outside the open-air section surrounding the huge dome-shamed bell, I saw something more horrible than even the groundskeeper’s mutilated body. Chadwick von Stroheim ... was inches away from being murdered by Benny Yorkes.

  The hulking Chadwick, having run up the entire tower in an apparent attempt to escape my changing friend, promptly fainted at the sight of my silhouette against the sliver moon. A now-fanged Benny looked at me with tear-filled eyes. I noticed new fur dancing and materializing on his swelling body.

  “Get away, Warren! I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

  “Is that what you told Sullivan?” I cautiously circled the tower, drawing Benny’s attention with each flap.

  “I never wanted to kill him, Warren! You have to believe me! The hunger! The hunger made me do it,” he said, his voice deepening to a low rumble.

  “You have to stop, Benny. 1 can help you. Just try to stay calm and. .

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me! It just started one night! I thought it would end after Sullivan, but what if Hallahan knew it was me?” He grabbed Chadwick’s neck. “What if this kid saw me last night? I don’t know how to stop!”

  “Just put him down,” I begged, watching him inch closer to Chadwick’s limp body. “You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

  “I do!” he screamed, nearly fully transformed now. “It’s what I am now! Why did God do this to me? I... ggggrrrRRAAAARRR!”

  Before I could tell him how much I sympathized with his condition, my transfigured friend leapt off the edge of the bell tower, his talons aimed directly at my throat.

  Stunned by how heavy Benny was in his new form, my wings fell slack and we immediately began pinwheeling downwards. Somehow, I managed to straighten my entire wingspan and catch an updraft, impressed by the unbelievable weight my wings could apparently handle. As I pulled out of our fall, Benny began snapping at my throat. Out of the frying pan . ..

  Lumbering through the airspace directly above the school, I banked hard through the canyons between buildings, using everything I learned in my months of study in a desperate attempt to shake the vicious beast.

  “Benny!” I cried against the rush of gale force wind. “I’m your friend! You’ll kill us both!”

  With Ei deafening roar, Benny clawed at my bare back. I screamed in pain and promptly went into a hard tailspin in a final attempt to shake him before he tore me to pieces. With the creature still clinging to my aching body, I began to accept the fact that neither of us would likely make it out of the dogfight alive.

  Pushing my tired body harder than I ever had before, I shifted my wings to a ninety-degree angle and pushed myself straight at the moon, directly overhead. I flapped so hard that my wings smashed into each other in an explosion of loose feathers with every beat.

  Still, Benny held on.

  Flying directly up is like climbing to the top of the Empire State Building while being forced to increase your speed with each and every step. Higher and higher, faster and faster, it wasn’t long before we were skimming clouds. My vision became blurry and my head throbbed in pain as we entered an altitude where the air was impossibly thin. Thankfully, Benny’s grunting became a distant gurgling and his grasp weakened.

  A hundred feet later, seconds before I would have passed out, Benny finally let go. I rocketed skyward for a moment as my wings were suddenly freed of their extra cargo. Quickly slowing to a halt, I listened as Benny’s plummeting howl became a fading high-pitched whine. I shifted my center of gravity and dove straight down.

  No matter what he had done, you have to understand that there was no way I could let Benny Yorkes, my roommate, my lab partner, my best friend, fall to his death.

  Tucking my wings under my arms, I straightened my body and entered a devastating nosedive. I aimed myself like a rocket directly at Benny, whose bulky frame thankfully created enough drag to narrow the distance between us.

  Less than fifty feet from smashing into the Green, I positioned myself away from Benny and prepared to attempt a feat that I had failed at countless times before.

  Yaw, roll and... Come on! And.. .

  For just a moment, the world became a blurry, beautiful Impressionist painting.

  Pitch! “Benny, take my hand!”

  Executing my premiere flawless barrel roll, I nabbed Benny’s arm and cautiously slowed his momentum by swinging his heavy body gently upwards. I looked down at my almost fully reverted friend and said, “It’s over, Benny. Let’s go home.”

  As we soared back into the still air high above St. Ignatius, he stared into my eyes, shaking his head sadly.

  “I’m sorry, Warren.” With a single swipe of what remained of his talons, Benny sliced at my tired arms. While I hung there helplessly, my blood fell with him.

  I don’t remember what I screamed as I watched his fragile body tumble for what seemed like hours before it finally smashed on the schoolyard below.

  This time, it did rain.

  I stood at the back of the funeral, alone. My parents sent their condolences to Benny’s parents, again unable to make it out to St. Ignatius for the funeral because of more “pressing business concerns.” I wanted to go to the Yorkeses and offer some sort of explanation for their child’s death, but what would I have told them that would have made it any easier?

  For a long while after that terrible night, I convinced myself that Benny must have somehow “caught” his mutation from me. No matter what Xavier’s book said, there didn’t seem to be any other believable way to explain how two of these rare beings ended up being so close. Eventually though, I guess I came to accept the fact that, when Benny and I chose each other as roommates, we did so because we each recognized our own fear and confusion in the other. That’s what I have to tell myself to keep going, anyway.

  At the homily, Headmaster White asked us to pray for the repose of the soul of our dearly departed classmate, “Who must have thrown himself from the bell tower in a fit of stress-induced insanity.” White assured the surprised students that God was wondrous and could forgive anything, even the terrible mistakes of our friend.

  The headmaster’s change of heart was doubtlessly influenced by the masked Avenging Angel who visited his window the previous night and delivered a stem message “from God Himself.” Rumors raced throughout the campus about this mythical angel, whom the now sociable Chadwick von Stroheim claimed saved him from Benny’s insane rampage.

  After the service, I strolled into Father Tim’s office and apologetically laid down several taped-together aviation books on his desk. “Thank you, Father. I’m done with these now.”

  His glasses already off, Tim simply leaned back in his well-worn leather chair. “Warren, you know you’re welcome to them as long as you—”

  “No. Thank you. I’m done.”

  “I’m disappointed, Warren. You’re one of the most extraordinary students I’ve ever had.”

  “I don’t want to be extraordinary anymore,” I said, looking at my tarnished shoes. “I just want to be like everyone else.”

  “Of course,” he nodded, standing to walk me to the door. “I understand, Warren. But I want you to know that I’m always here for you. And so is the Lord.”

  I thanked him halfheartedly and walked out to the empty Green. Staring up at the empty sky, I made a solemn vow never again to use my wings. Still, as the church bells echoed in the distance, feathers rustled impatiently underneath my faded maroon blazer.

  Diary of a F
alse Man

  Keith R.A. DeCandido

  te- Professor Xavier was dead.

  fy That, at least, was what Jean Grey had to pretend was the case.

  P She couldn’t imagine how things had gone so wrong.

  The man they had buried was not truly Charles Francis Xavier, Ph.D., world-renowned geneticist, headmaster of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, and, more secretly, powerful telepath and mentor to the team of teenaged super heroes, the X-Men. Xavier was, in fact, presently in a sealed bunker beneath the school grounds, preparing for an invasion by an alien race known as the Z’Nox.

  Jean Grey was the only one of the X-Men who knew that he wasn’t really dead, but she could not reveal the truth to anyone.

  After she and her four teammates—Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, Bobby Drake, and Warren Worthington ITT—had returned from the funeral to the mansion that housed the school, they played the message that “Xavier” had left for them in the event he was killed. Jean pretended to be surprised by it, even though she knew that the Professor recorded such messages before any kind of mission. He was always prepared for the eventuality of his own death. The man who took his place had fejt obligated to do the same.

  To Jean’s horror, she realized she didn’t even know the man’s real name.

  He had been called the Changeling, and he first encountered the X-Men as the second-in-command of the terrorist organization Factor Three. In the end, though, he had helped the X-Men defeat Factor Three’s so-called “Mutant Master.” Then, in secret, he had taken the place of Professor Xavier. Just a few days ago, he died fighting Grotesk, a sacrifice that saved billions of lives.

  The recording of the Changeling-as-Xavier included a warning that Magneto might return soon—as indeed he had days earlier, facing the Avengers—and then came to an end with the words: “And now, farewell, my X-Men. The torch has been passed, and I know you shall be worthy of it.”