Preview

Scott spared one last look at Jean. She was the Phoenix—not just Death but Life, Destroyer as well as Creator—and appropriately enough, she struck him as the polar opposite to Emma. Emma flaunted her power, her sexuality, her beauty, everything in her arsenal. Jean tried to downplay it, as though she could be modest about coming back from the dead. As beautiful as ever, she wore a wool cardigan over a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, her blazing hair in a bun that actually managed to be demure, a tartan skirt coming down to her knees, her pearly white stockings, reminding Scott of the schoolgirl who had grown up alongside him. He’d loved her then. He loved her now. Even dressed like a librarian, repudiating all the fire of the Dark Phoenix, she tempted him as strongly as Emma ever had. Scott had no choice. He could either be traded between the two women, fought over like a poker chip, or he could come up with a plan to satisfy everyone.

He’d come up with a plan to defeat Dracula once.

Scott charged into Jean’s classroom, each foot falling with its own heavy import. On the one hand, there was the famous drive he was known for—the leader of the X-Men, the crusader, the heir to Xavier and the point of the spear for all mutantkind. He may have been amoral, he may have been ruthless, but there was an efficiency to him that couldn’t be denied. He only had to decide on the best course of action and he took that route like floodwaters raging downstream.

But as if that weren’t enough, there was the man himself. The blue eyes long since buried under his ruby quartz visor, guarded by his mutant power. Even with the force that constantly smoldered in them, ready to be released into destruction, they still looked lovingly at Jean.

For months since her return, they had been on the outs. She was unsure of what to make of his relationship with Emma, while feeling adrift herself. Unsure who she was, how much of her was the Phoenix and how much was Jean, how she felt about Scott and who it was that was even feeling whatever it was she felt.

Emotion, frustration, friction—it all added up to a passion that was rarely seen in Scott and Jean responded to the telepathic vibe coming off him like the tingle of ozone before a storm.

“Scott,” Jean greeted, irritated by the intrusion but also bemused. It seemed like her wry eyes could never be truly angry with him. The Dark Phoenix and her very real wrath seemed like something that had happened a million years ago. “You kinda caught me in the middle of something.”

Scott glanced sidelong at the students: heads down, scrawling on their test papers, but obviously straining to catch what was being said. The Stepford Cuckoos weren’t even hiding it. Emma’s little monsters had, of course, finished their test early.

“Let’s talk privately,” Scott said.

Jean sighed. “And they say I get you into trouble.” She looked out at the students and when she spoke, her voice seemed to echo—both inside their heads and out. “Class, you’re to focus on your work and pay no attention to Scott. He’s not even here.”

And like that, the classroom forgot all about Scott. As far as their young minds were concerned, he wasn’t there.