Last week, Portugal became the Champion of Europe in the Football / Soccer Championship.

Naturally, I put up an extra chapter to celebrate.

This week, Portugal became the Champion of Europe in the Hockey Championship!

Congratulations!

And naturally, I'm putting up an extra chapter to celebrate.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

This is the continuation of the story Dancing to the Sound of Death, the 4th installment in my Irbis-Creed saga.

At the end of that story, Creed found out that his new housekeeper, Irbis, was crushing badly on him and decided to take full advantage of it. She wasn't too keen on the idea and managed to exchange her compliance to become his new sex toy for his permission to find her own house.

This is the last installment of the current saga.

This story starts a few weeks / months after the events in the first few issues of Astonishing X-Men, including Colossus being rediscovered alive. More exactly, it happens shortly after Exodus's attack, the arrival of X-23 and the departure of Sage. Jubilee is currently living with her newly discovered aunt Hope in LA, but will soon have to return to Westchester.

1. First Letter

Friday, 19 of October

Hello.

I'm good and I hope you are good too. In first place, I want you to now I didn't escape you and that I do not want to escape. I'm going to maintain my promises until the end. By that reason, I left my Portuguese guitar. Is my more precious possession, and I leave it with you to show that I did not escape and that I don't want escape.

Irbis took a deep breath, thinking about the guitar. She had barely played it, and it had hurt to leave it behind, especially knowing that it risked being destroyed. But she must leave a strong indication, telling Creed she was not running away. Still, she feared for the guitar's well-being.

In second place, I'm sorry by the mistakes and bad English.

I arrived to New York today and I went to a school that helps mutants. They were a bit suspicious but they accept me. BUT I do not want to stay here for very time. I ask to stay living until I find a house in a city near, where I can be independent and have absolute privacity. They accept me to work like helper of the cooks and to take care of the horses. I gave myself a time limit: in a month, I want my house and be capable to receive you.

She had to admit she hadn't been very sure at first. All she had known was that she couldn't stay in Wausau or the man would slowly suck her into an incarcerated life under his whims, no matter what he proclaimed in his agreements. On the other hand, if she got on with more people – even if only work colleagues – then she had a foot in the real world, outside the universe of hitmen and mercenaries.

Would he think of killing any people she made contact with? Once again, she wasn't sure. He could have killed the library security guard and he hadn't, after all. But then again, that had been in Wausau, where he risked attracting attention to his precious safe house. Here in New York... well, for as long as he didn't see any contacts she made as a threat to his supposed dominion over her, things should go smoothly.

I suppose you want now details, but I don't have a lots to say (I only arrive today). I told them that I was used by a laboratory to test things and that I escaped and that I want remake my life, but in hide.

She had been worried about it. Still, she had chosen the Institute precisely because they accepted people escaping persecution, according to their website. She had gone to the testimony section and there had been a student, anonymous, naturally, who had claimed that he had been rescued from a group who had wanted to steal his mutant organs and that he finally felt safe. Well, her story wasn't really that different, was it?

The only difficulty had been when she had refused to say names.

"Dey think I'm dead," she had told the headmaster, a man constantly wearing reddish sunglasses. "If I say who dat dey are and you investigate, dey know dat someone is alive."

"I understand your concern, Ms. Martin," he'd answered her. "But can you live with your conscience knowing that those men will continue their actions? That you could have put an end to it but decided to sentence innocent people to suffer at their hands?"

They knew how to manipulate people, she'd thought. "De program ended, Mister Summers. Everybody was killed. If dey know dat someone has information about de program, is because someone wasn't killed."

"How did you escape," the woman had asked. Oro Munroe, or something of the sort. Her first name might be strange and difficult to understand, but her appearance was impossible to mistake: a tall, athletic woman with beautiful black skin, intense blue eyes, and amazing white hair.

"Destiny," she had said, not looking at them. "I almost died..."

She hadn't added any details. Instead, she'd forced some tears up, thinking about the happy life she'd lost, her family.

"But you didn't come immediately to us," she'd added.

"No. I work like illegal." Finally she had looked up, straight at the woman. It was easier to face her because she could lock her gaze on the woman's, while the man's sunglasses left her uncomfortable. "But I'm afraid to be illegal. I have false documents, but if police discovers... I don't know. So I think, you help people in difficult situations... I only want a job. I find a house so fast like I can, and I work. I want be secure."

They believed me.

Despite some suspicion. On the other hand, she hadn't been asking for terribly much. Unfortunately, they couldn't really pay her a normal salary. They accepted students for free, although their families were free to make donations, which made them a non-profit organisation. The majority of the staff wasn't there as simply employees, but as refugees from the mutant-hating world outside. In a way, they were there under similar conditions to the students. As it was, they didn't receive a true salary, simply having their needs attended to. On the other hand, they could put in a good word with some of their contacts so that she could get a secure job somewhere else, as a true employee.

"But it will take some time to find an adequate position for you," Mr. Summers, the headmaster, had warned her.

"I understand. I take de opportunity to show my value here when I wait."

Which meant that the house she hoped to have in a month might end up somewhere else entirely. Not that Victor Creed needed to know that. At least not just yet.

Was only one problem: I had to let the their doctor see me. I don't say no because I now is suspicious so I went to the consultory of the doctor. He's name is Doctor Henk Macoi (I don't now how to write the name, I just hear it). He's obviously a mutant because he has got blue fur and has the appearance of a cat. I think he has haiten (I can't find this word in the dictionary, sorry) senses like you because he smells things and people, so I'm very careful about lies. I said the doctor that I don't give blood to test because I don't want more tests.

He had actually been very nice and, despite his chattiness, easier to understand since he used so many words which were similar to Portuguese words. He had started by asking her her medical history, once the white-haired woman and a man apparently made of glass had left, laughing over the doctor's hound nose. She hadn't understood the joke, and she sure as hell didn't know what a hound was, but the word 'nose' reminded her of nothing but Creed's heightened sense of smell.

"I never had children sicks," she had said softly, afraid to arise suspicion, yet worried about the possibility of having to strip for a medical examination which she still hoped to avoid. "And de only medical problem in my family is heart, in my grandparents."

She didn't think it was important to mention her great-aunt's Alzheimer. "Normally, I don't have winter sicks and when I have cuts, dey cure fast."

"What about diabetes, cholesterol and blood pressure?" She had shaken her head decidedly. But what if he saw the bruises? He'd start suspecting that she was only saying half-truths.

"Is your vaccination up to date?"

"I don't now off certain. I have all vaccines until last year... I think I need tehtunoo vaccine in some years."

"Tetanus?" He had ascertained. "Right. Anything else?"

It was now or never. "I... a man attack me because off my bag." Creed had been pretending to be a thief, so it wasn't really a lie. "I have my neck all black because off dat."

The doctor had immediately lost his friendly smile as he asked her permission to see the area. She had only remembered the bite mark too late, once she had unbuttoned the collar.

"My stars and garters! Is this an animal bite?"

"Yes," she'd answered embarrassedly, since Creed had called himself an animal. "But he was playing, is not problem."

The doctor hadn't shared her opinion on that, but she had put an end to the examination and rebuttoned her collar. Curiously, she didn't have trouble refusing permission for further examination.

"I am not sick, Doctor MacCoy," and she'd been extra soft as she explained her point. "I don't know if Mr. Summers say you something, but I was... I was a rat of laboratory and I don't want more medical tests."

He tryed convince me that I can trust him, and I didn't say yes or no. He insisted a bit with blood tests, but you now I'm stubborn. But I promise that, if I'm sick, I ask his help imediately. He was not very happy but accepted. He said that he hopes to win my trust soon.

However, the true issue hadn't been trust. After all, the medical information he wanted about her was something that she wouldn't even tell a priest in the confessionary. It was something strictly between her and God. And Creed, naturally.

They are nice but, of course, they have more things to think than me. Are many students here and I'm not mutant so... I don't hope to have problems.

She wondered for a second if Creed could tell if someone was lying while writing; if the tell-tale smell would stick to the paper. Well, she'd risk it: she was not going to write that she was expecting problems. Especially because she wasn't sure herself if she wasn't exaggerating natural signs of caution.

If Irbis were honest, only the doctor had been truly nice to her. The others – the headmaster Mr Summers, the white haired Ms Munroe, the teacher and librarian Xi'an, the teacher Danielle Moonstar, the man made of glass – they had been polite, not nice. But as she had written in the letter, the Institute was full of mutants and she wasn't one of them, which meant she automatically became less important to them. And it wasn't necessarily a bad thing! She'd have more freedom of action if she was little noted.

However, what had actually given her a bad feeling was meeting her soon to be work colleagues: the cooks. They were mostly women and had been truly friendly. Up to the point when, being alone with them and getting instructions about her upcoming functions, someone had asked her about her powers.

"I'm sorry, powers?"

"Yeah, honey. Your mutant powers."

A block of ice growing in her stomach, she'd explained she wasn't mutant.

"Oh, so you came with a family member then?" Janelle, one of the youngest cooks had asked. "We had a nurse who came with her son, but then she got involved with Mr Summers's brother and she couldn't handle the pressure. Didn't stay formore than a few months."

"Yeah, it isn't very common for folks to come here to stay with their kids. But you seem a bit too young for having kids of your own; I bet you came with your brother or sister, didn't you?"

"No," she had nearly whispered. "I came alone."

The expressions had shown incredulity in the first minute, then they changed to open suspicion.

To say the true, I want make one or two friends but not near friends and I think that is not going to be difficult.

There. He could start getting used to the idea that she'd have acquaintances besides him, and that they wouldn't be a threat to his supposed dominion.

I have my cell phone that you gave me so you can contact me when you want. I hope receive a message of you soon.

Good bye and until soon,

Irbis

P.S.: Here, I use the name and documents of Isabel Martins, but I continue to be Irbis to you.

Irbis started re-reading the letter. She hoped the English wasn't too bad and weakly considered checking every word in the dictionary. She glanced over at the thick book on the desk. She'd spent ages trying to find the word 'heightened' and all for nothing. No, it was a waste of time and the man would surely be able to read it even if there were spelling mistakes, he wasn't stupid. Irbis skipped to the end of the letter (it was really too long to bother re-reading everything). She ought to use his first name, Victor, but it still felt awkward to use it. On the other hand, it might help soften his anger once he realised she was gone, even if only temporarily.

... I continue to be Irbis to you, Victor.

There. And no need to rewrite everything again. She sighed. The next day would be Saturday but she'd find a way to go into town and drop the letter to Wausau in a post box. She looked at her watch: it was 2 in the morning already. She hid the letter in an inner coat of her jacket and then picked up the letter drafts. They couldn't be left about to be discovered, so she went to the bathroom, filled up the washbasin with water and pushed the paper in.

It took much longer for it to dissolve than she had expected, but she wasn't particularly sleepy. First of all, her heart was still pounding with her decision to leave Wausau. Secondly, she couldn't deny feeling apprehensive about her new home: she held such high hopes and expectations! And then there were the memories of her last night with Creed. No, Victor. She had to get used to calling him by his first name.

It was nearly four when she finally laid down on the bed, the mattress neither soft nor hard. The room was to be shared by two people, but for now she had it all to herself. It was neither small nor big; two beds, one on each side of the window, each bed having a companion bedside-table, desk, chair and wardrobe. The house – no, the school, she corrected herself. The school was so silent despite the hundreds and hundreds of people living there.

Irbis closed her eyes and tried to quiet the thoughts, doubts, hopes and fears running wild inside her head. She wished she had her guitar with her, so that she could play some calming tune. Without even thinking, her right hand started playing a melody on the bed, just like she used to do when she wasn't sleepy, at home. Just like she used to do when she had nightmares and the piano at Creed's Wausau home wasn't available.

Like in Dallas. And she remembered his relaxed profile, looking at the TV while she desperately wanted to get his attention. Like in that little town near Salt Lake City, after he had picked her up from the desert, when he had overheard her singing...

She had done it on purpose, then. Singing loudly. Still she hadn't really sung freely, since she hadn't wanted to catch the attention of other people staying in the motel, only his. Just like she had caught his attention when she had refused to accept his water and had killed that bird to drink its blood. What had she been thinking when she did that?! The devil had surely possessed her to make her act that way.

Irbis sighed, remembering his golden eyes, ice burning through her. His hand – huge, and strong, and warm, and... – snaked around her neck. She let her own hand go over the bruised skin – and she could have sworn that, that morning when Creed had pretended to be a thug attacking her, he hadn't grabbed her neck that hard. Then her fingertips touched the point where he had bitten her. Playfully, of course; he'd probably have bitten off half her neck, hadn't it been playfully. For a moment she fancied she could feel his hot breath on her skin again; and his kiss, hungry and hard; and his teeth, sinking in with a mixture of pain and pleasure that once more made her body arch and shudder in uncanny delight.

Groaning, she tossed around, trying to escape the memories in vain. Finally she gave it up. "The memory's still too fresh," she told herself. She decided there was no point in fighting it so she got up and got dressed, choosing a blouse that thoroughly covered the marks on her neck. Then she headed downstairs, knowing the other cooks wouldn't be up yet, and decided to check on the horses before it was time to start on the breakfast.

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