DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X-Men or any of their multiple incarnations. Please don't sue me or steal my story!

NOTE: In Italian, Beatrice is pronounced Bee-a-TREECH-eh. Since the great Dante wrote his Inferno in Italian, I would guess Belasco would say the name with the Italian pronounciation.

NOTE II: The opening speech (from "There..." to "What about Kurt Wagner?" ) is quoted directly from Universe X Volume 2. The descriptions in between those quotes and everything that follows is mine (except the characters themselves, of course. Those are Marvel's).
Belasco's Beatrice
By Rowena

And now... Brunetto summons the Elder Gods and Belasco's true relationship to Kurt is revealed! (Well, according to this story anyway. ;D ) Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Ororo Munroe pushed her chair back from the conference table and strode over to the large window. The slowly growing tension as the gathered X-Men waited for Scott to return with Jean was causing the room to feel somewhat stuffy, and Ororo needed some fresh air.

Scott had been gone for nearly fifteen minutes now and Ororo was beginning to worry despite herself. Judging from the expressions on the faces of her colleagues, they were feeling much the same way. There was probably no cause for concern, but Ororo knew none of them would feel better until they actually saw Jean walk into the room.

Pulling back the curtains a little further, she opened the window, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the refreshing breeze brush against her face. Her garden was just visible from this vantage point, as was the large oak tree where they had found Kurt the night before.

Ororo leaned forward slightly as she tried to locate the spot where he had been lying, her deep concern for him mingling with her worry over Jean and causing her carefully expressionless face to tighten in anxiety. Ororo made a firm mental note to check up on Kurt the moment the briefing ended. The sedative Hank had given him that morning would be wearing off in about an hour. He would probably be disoriented, even frightened, and she didn't want him waking up alone.

Casting a final gaze at the oak tree, Ororo started to turn around when something black caught her attention, meandering slowly into her peripheral vision. She blinked, surprised to see a rather large, black goat looking up at her from the lawn by her garden. She squinted a little, wondering where it could have come from, when she noticed something that made her do a double take. It was probably just the way the goat was standing in relation to the sun, but to Ororo's eyes it seemed that the shadow cast by the animal was not that of a goat, but of a man.

She shook her head, blinking a few times before taking another look. The goat stared back, its large eyes focused directly on her. Ororo shivered despite herself. There was something suspicious about this goat; something wrong. The way it was staring up at her in that eerie, almost knowing way... Ororo doubted that it was just a trick of the sunlight that made its eyes seem to glow red.

She was just about to alert the others that there was an intruder on the grounds when the goat gave a soft bleat, then lowered its gaze, suddenly appearing to take a strong interest in the grass. As it wandered away, Ororo turned from the window, all thoughts of warning the others gone from her mind. Without a word, she strode across the room and out the door, her chin raised and her crystal eyes filled with purpose.

Hank looked to the Professor, a question in his expression—a question which Erik voiced barely a moment later.

"And where is she off to in such a hurry?" the imposing mutant asked, leaning forward in his chair, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

Xavier shook his bald head, at a loss. "I'm not sure," he said, somewhat concerned. "I sensed a spike of apprehension from her, and then....nothing." He frowned, steepling his fingers before him. "Perhaps she—"

"Professor!"

It was Scott's voice, piping in over the intercom. The remaining X-Men gave a start at the unexpected interruption, but Scott didn't give them a chance to recover, the urgency in his voice bringing them to attention at once.

"We've got a major problem," he said. "You've all got to come down to the medbay...and fast."

"What is it, Scott," Xavier queried, his voice calm despite the sudden tension visible in his face and posture. "Have you found Jean?"

"She's here," he responded, "but she's unconscious. I can't get her to wake up. And our guest seems to be having some kind of fit. He's unconscious too—I think—but he can't seem to keep still and those machines he's hooked up to are going crazy."

Xavier stretched out with his mind, his eyes widening as his senses brushed against the chaotic turmoil filling the minds of both Jean and Kurt.

"We'll be down momentarily, Scott," he announced, already backing his chair away from the table and wheeling towards the door. Hank and Erik followed close behind, deeply concerned by the Professor's obvious alarm. "Do not lower the force field. Erik," he said, turning his head to face his old friend as they hurried down the corridor, "I'd appreciate it if you would boot up Cerebro for me—just in case. I've a feeling we may need to put a few of your recent modifications to the test."

Erik nodded curtly, peeling away down an adjacent corridor as Hank and the Professor packed themselves into the elevator bound for the medbay.

Brunetto's laboratory was little more than a cramped, cluttered room at the back of his tiny house. The tall man was standing in the far corner, hunched over a narrow table painted with various symbols and runes. Kurt frowned from the dark corner where he and Jean were concealed, leaning forward slightly to get a better look.

"What is it?" Jean asked, trying to see what he was frowning at.

"That pentagram," he whispered back, still uncertain as to whether Brunetto could see them or not. "And those strange runes..." He frowned in concentration, his eyes distant with memory. "I've seen them before...when I was a child. I remember—my foster mother, Margali, she had them painted on the table where she sat when she told people their fortunes. She told me they were part of a spell of summoning, that she used them to summon spirits to help her in her work."

He leaned back against the wall, casting a quick glance at Jean. His intense, dark eyes burned into hers, his lean, pale features tight with apprehension. Both of them were still in disguise, and Jean had to be very careful not to let her long skirts rustle as she moved to lean beside him.

"What do you think he's doing?" she asked curiously, following his gaze as they watched Brunetto open a cloth bag and begin removing a number of bright stones of the deepest red, arranging them in a careful pattern on the painted pentagram.

Kurt just gave a distracted shake of his head, his attention focused fully on Brunetto and his stones. Jean closed her mouth, listening with careful attention as Brunetto began to speak. It was only then that she noticed the large, black bird perched in the wooden cage on the shelf above the table. It peered down at Brunetto through sharp, beady eyes, looking almost as though it could understand his words.

"I know I can't put it off any longer, my friend," he said to the bird, his voice soft and distant. "The appointed time is swiftly approaching, and yet I hesitate."

He pushed away from his table, striding across the small space to room's only window. His profile was little more than a silhouette among the shadows, but his dark eyes glittered in the fading sunlight.

"I have done everything the demon has asked of me so far. I have ingratiated myself to Beatrice Portinari, acted the fool for her amusement. She suspects nothing. There are even times when I....when I think she might like me." He chuckled softly, but it sounded more like a sob.

"Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into!" He clawed a hand through his dark hair, blinking rapidly, his nostrils flaring slightly as he fought to reign in his emotions. "I know what it is the Elder Gods expect of me, but when I made this bargain I never thought...I never..."

He turned to face his bird, his anguish plain to see. "I never believed any woman could touch my heart as Beatrice has. I have always prided myself on my control, that I am ruled by my head rather than my heart. But the way she looks at me, Tanaquil...her sly little smile... She makes me feel, as I have never felt before. I am more alive in her presence; colors are brighter, sounds more resonant." He smiled, a soft, distant quirk of his lips. "She is like an angel, my friend, her every smile a sweet benediction warming my frosty heart."

Tanaquil gave a low squawk, ruffling her feathers as she shifted position on her perch. Brunetto frowned.

"Yes, you're right, Tanaquil," he acknowledged, lifting his head as he firmly schooled his thin features. "I don't know what's come over me. Next thing you know I'll be spouting poetry; as hopeless a romantic as old Dante." He smirked with an air of superior distain. "No, my friend, this is not a time for sentiment. I must maintain my control; detach myself from the crude emotions she stirs in me. The bloodstones are in place and the Elder Gods are waiting to hear of my progress. I have upheld my part of the bargain. It is now time to see if they will keep theirs."

The bird squawked again, tilting her head at him with a snap of her beak. Brunetto smiled; a cold, hungry grin. "Just think of it, Tanaquil," he said, his dark eyes glittering. "All the knowledge, all the power of the supernatural rests just inches from my grasp. No more guesswork, no more theorizing, no more laborious experimentation... All the mysteries of the universe will be unlocked for me, and only for me." He cackled a laugh worthy of Vincent Price or Christopher Lee. The maniacal sound sent chills shivering up Jean's spine. Kurt just watched, completely absorbed in the scene playing out before them as Brunetto went on.

"To have all my questions answered, to finally know the truth... It would be worth any price, would it not?" he asked the bird. "And what is Beatrice to me, anyway? She is a married woman, and even if she were not she wouldn't look twice at someone like me. I have no money, no family—I can't even point out my natural father with any real confidence. Anything I may feel for her is only wishful thinking on my part, and I have never been one to harbor such foolish delusions. Besides," he added, some of the confidence slipping from his tone. "whatever it is the Elder Gods want with her, I'm sure they wouldn't harm her. Otherwise, why go through all the trouble of getting me to become so friendly with her?"

Tanaquil didn't answer; more intent on preening her feathers than assuaging Brunetto's uncertainty. It didn't matter anyway, because a moment later, that uncertainty had passed. Brunetto clutched the side of his lab table, his dark eyes hardening as he realized he had just made his decision.

"I told Dante once that I would willingly spend an eternity in the company of the Devil himself if he answered my questions," he said softly, staring down at the carefully arranged bloodstones, his pulse beginning to quicken. "And it's true. If that is the cost of ultimate understanding, I am ready to pay." He looked up at his pet with a quick flash of a smile, then lowered his head as he splayed his fingers above the stones.

"Well, Tanaquil, there's no turning back now," he said, his voice as steady as his hands. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath, then spoke a short incantation consisting of three words:

"Veni mihi, Azazel!"

The bloodstones flashed once, then began to glow with an intense light that only grew brighter as they cast a sparkling pattern of light against the ceiling. Brunetto removed his hands and took a step back, his features composed and his expression calm. He had made his choice, confident that he could handle the consequences it would bring. Little did he realize that his confidence would prove to be his undoing...

The sparkling, red lights began to spin and whirl, deepening and thickening until they had created a physical vortex, slowly widening as it continued to grow. Beyond the swirling vortex a strange, smoky landscape came into view. It was barren and rocky, bathed in a reddish light that reflected dimly off the thick, sulfurous clouds hanging heavily in the sky. And looming in the near distance was an ancient, crumbling castle, majestic yet terrifying with narrow, fang-like spires that thrust upwards into the gloom.

Kurt gasped out loud, alarmed as he realized he recognized the structure and the lean, armored man standing on the drawbridge. The deep, red skin, the devilish goatee, the cold triumph gleaming in his fierce, yellow eyes...

"Greetings, Azazel," Brunetto nodded politely, apparently oblivious to the sharp sound Kurt had just made.

"Brunetto Donati," the demon grinned, his sharp, white teeth flashing as he rode the widening portal down the wall until he was standing at the level of the floor. "Right on time, as I had expected. Tell me," he said, his intense eyes darkening. "How goes things with the lovely Beatrice?"

"Extremely well," Brunetto announced, his tone almost light. His stance bordered on cocky as he looked Azazel straight in the eye, refusing to be intimidated by the powerful being he knew as the leader of the Elder Gods. "We have become quite friendly over the past few months. Everything is working out exactly as you predicted."

Azazel's grin broadened, his eyes alight with something like pride. "I knew you would not disappoint me," he said, reaching for something out of sight beyond the vortex. "And now I expect you are waiting to see if I will fulfill my part of the bargain."

"That's right," Brunetto nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, never fear, my son," the demon smiled, holding a large, steaming goblet out for Brunetto to take. It seemed to be carved from the same dull, red rock that dominated the landscape behind him.

"Take this goblet and drink the contents," he instructed, pushing his hand through the whirling portal with some difficulty. "By this action, you will seal our pact and gain the power you desire. Only then can I begin to impart to you the knowledge that you seek."

Brunetto stared at the smoking goblet for a long moment, swallowing a deep shudder. Then he squared his shoulders, reaching out to take the goblet from Azazel.

"What is this?" he grimaced, his nose wrinkling at the sharp smell of the smoking drink.

"It is merely a catalyst, based on a formula discovered by one Henry McCoy several centuries from now," Azazel explained, enjoying the thoroughly lost look on Brunetto's face. "It will cause a reaction in your system that will activate the mutant gene you inherited from me." The demon smiled, his hard expression as close to reassuring as he could make it. "Drink it, Brunetto," he said, "and everything I just said will become clear to you."

Brunetto raised the goblet to his lips, then hesitated, peering back at the demon over the rim.

"What will happen once I drink this?" he asked, his hands shaking slightly as he struggled to maintain his resolve. "What will it do to me?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure," Azazel admitted, his expression softening even further. "The mutant gene varies from individual to individual. But it should be quite interesting to find out."

"What do you mean by that?" Brunetto almost squeaked.

"Just drink," the demon ordered, "and all these questions will be answered."

Brunetto swallowed hard, then nodded. Squeezing his eyes closed, he drained the goblet, gasping slightly as dropped it to the floor, then clutched his hand to his throat.

"Madre di Dio," he exclaimed, his eyes tearing as he doubled over in pain. "Oh, God, it hurts. What have you done to me?"

"Yes," Azazel nodded in false sympathy. "It will hurt. But the pain will pass, believe me."

Brunetto reached out blindly for the support of his table, but he collapsed to the floor before he could reach it, curling into a tight ball as he writhed in pain. Azazel just watched, coldly, clinically, the smallest of smiles twisting his lips as Brunetto's eyes shot wide open. Their dark irises were gone now, replaced by bright, glowing yellow. His pale, flushed face was deepening in color, becoming nearly as red as Azazel's own skin.

"I'm proud of you, my son," the demon smiled, amused and delighted as a long, spade-tipped tail made its appearance, lashing violently in a reflection of Brunetto's abject agony. "You alone, out of all my children, have never yet failed me. Finally, after all these centuries of waiting and scheming, I shall finally return to rule my earth. And you will be my instrument. Let us hope that you continue to serve me as successfully as you always have now that it matters most, my brave, loyal Belasco."

Chuckling happily to himself, Azazel pressed a palm against the thin barrier separating his dimension from that of Earth, testing its strength. Brunetto's summons had managed to bring the two dimensional planes close enough together for the demon to cross over from one to another, but that rare proximity would not last long. He would have to work fast if he was to accomplish his goal before the dimensions parted and he was ripped back to the hot, barren pit that had served as his prison for so many centuries.

Stepping gracefully into Brunetto's cramped, cluttered lab, Azazel pressed a button on his thick belt. The dusty air around him shimmered as his form and clothing began to change. A moment later, he had become the spitting image of Brunetto Donati—before he drank the potion. Taking a moment to check his appearance in the small mirror he kept in his pocket, Azazel smoothed his dark hair, then casually stepped over his screaming son, leaving him to endure the pain of his transformation alone except for Tanaquil's agitated shrieks and the unnoticed company of two stunned eavesdroppers.