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
As requested, here are the translations for all the Italian Belasco was shouting back in Ch. 7. I'm sorry I forgot to put it in before. I was in a real hurry to finish up that chapter before I left on my trip and somehow I left it out.

"Mi dispiace, Beatrice. Tu sei il mio cuore. Tu mi credi? Mi dispiace!" Translation: I'm sorry, Beatrice. You are my heart. Do you believe me? I'm sorry!

"Padre?! Perche, Padre? Perche Beatrice?!" Translation: Father?! Why, Father? Why Beatrice?!

"Io non sono un demonio! Azazel! Io non sono un demonio!" Translation: I am not a demon! Azazel! I am not a demon!


Chapter Nine

Jean Summers paid the taxi driver, then stood back as he drove away, hefting her purse over her shoulder and pulling up the handle to her wheeled overnight bag. She smiled slightly as she cast her gaze around the peaceful grounds, drinking in the rich, earthy smell of sun-warmed grass before turning to face the mansion.

Jean was in an unusually good mood that morning. Her speech had gone over surprisingly well at the medical conference, and she was looking forward to discussing several of the new theories that had been put forward there with Hank, Charles, and Erik. The lecture involving the use of telepathy to assist coma patients had been particularly exciting...

A twig snapped to her left, the sharp sound momentarily shattering the tranquil backdrop of rustling leaves and birdsong. Jean spun at once, dropping her bags and falling unconsciously into a defensive posture, her mind on full alert. Someone was there, watching her...a psychic presence tingling just at the edges of her shields. He was moving towards her, coming from the direction of Ororo's garden...

Jean's eyes widened and she straightened, her lips twitching as she suppressed a sudden bubble of laughter. There, ambling his leisurely way through the thick grass, was a sleek, black goat. He turned his long face towards her, regarding her through large, blasé eyes, then continued on his way across the grounds.

Jean gave a small smile, shaking her head at herself as she took up her bags once again and headed up the stairs for the front door. All her years as an X-Man had made her slightly paranoid, it seemed. For a moment, she could have sworn she'd felt a man was watching her from behind that old oak...

Scott opened the door a moment before Jean had dug her keys out of her purse, the telepathic bond they shared having alerted him to her arrival without her even having to contact him.

"Welcome home!" the spectacled man grinned, opening his arms wide. Jean stepped into them, bags and all, squeezing him tightly in a brief, though warm, embrace.

"How was your trip?" Scott asked, pecking her on the cheek before letting her go. He took her free hand as they started down the hallway, the wheels of Jean's bag surprisingly loud as they bumped off the carpet and onto the old, hardwood floor. "You were smiling when I opened the door, so I assume you had a good time."

Jean shot him an enigmatic smile, then asked, "Since when do we have a goat?"

Scott furrowed his brow. "A goat?" he repeated, as if unsure he'd heard her correctly.

"Yes, a goat," Jean confirmed. "I saw one just now, wandering across the grounds."

"Well, it's not ours," Scott said. "At least, not as far as I know. Maybe it ran away from one of the farms down the road. Or it could even be some eccentric millionaire's escaped pet." He smirked at his own suggestion. "Hey, you never know."

Jean just shrugged. "Maybe. And in answer to your question, I did have a wonderful time at the conference, thank you. What's for breakfast?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to ask how things have been around here while you were gone?"

"I don't have to," Jean said, leading Scott into the kitchen and releasing his hand as she made a bee line for the refrigerator. "I know something happened. But tell me later, after I've eaten something. They didn't have a meal service on the plane and I just couldn't face fast food that early in the morning."

"I think breakfast is still going on in the dining hall if you don't mind eating with the students," Scott told her. "I could take your stuff upstairs for you."

"Could you? I would really appreciate that, sweetie," Jean smiled, abandoning the refrigerator in favor of gracing her husband's lips with a kiss.

"Mmm," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "It's good to be home. It feels like I've been running on nothing but adrenaline for the past two days."

"Then you go get some breakfast," Scott said with a soft smile. "We can talk more once you've refueled. Here, let me take those for you."

He reached out a hand and Jean gave him her purse, her lips twitching slightly as he slung the effeminate accessory over his broad shoulder.

"Thank you, Scott," she said, her smile sincere as he grabbed the handle of her overnight bag and started out the kitchen door.

"No problem," Scott assured her. "Just meet me in the conference room when you're done eating, OK? We've got a lot we need to talk about."

#######

Most of the breakfast platters were empty by the time Jean made her way to the long buffet table at the side of the room. The eggs were gone, as was the French toast, but there was still enough sausage, bacon, pancakes, and cantaloupe left to make a decent meal. Jean quickly loaded her plate, adding a generous dollop of cottage cheese to the top of her melon slice, then she scanned the tables to find a place to sit.

The long room was still pretty full, seeing as most of the students preferred to sleep late on Saturdays. Jean kept her shields up as she picked her way through the chattering, laughing crowd, smiling and nodding whenever one of the children called out her name in greeting. Finally, she reached the half-empty table she had been aiming for.

"Hope you don't mind if I sit down," she said to the small group of students huddled at the far end, taking a seat before they could answer.

"No, it's OK, Dr. Summers," Paul Carter assured her, glancing over to Anna, who was flushing a pale shade of green. "Did you just get back?"

"Mm hmm," Jean nodded, swallowing a large mouthful of sausage and pancake. "Just walked in the door five minutes ago. I hope you didn't miss me too much in class on Friday."

"Dr. McCoy showed us a video," Anna said politely. "About white blood cells and diseases and things. It was very interesting."

Jean looked over at her, a knowing gleam in her eye. "I'm sure," she said, taking another bite of breakfast. "And you all completed that essay afterwards?"

Anna, Paul, and the two other students, Holly and Adam, nodded with a few low mumbles. Jean smirked behind her napkin, amused. She was about to say something more, when a sudden burst of frustration filtered through her lax shields. Jean furrowed her brow as she turned her gaze in the direction the frustrated annoyance was coming from. Anna was shooting Paul a significant glance, her orange eyes wide. Paul gave her a helpless look, his yellow, reptilian eyes darting over to indicate Jean, his expression one of warning. Jean frowned, suddenly suspicious. These kids were hiding something--something potentially dangerous--and they clearly couldn't wait for her to leave. Taking a sip of coffee, Jean composed her features. She didn't want to let them know she was on to them quite yet.

"So, I hear there was a little excitement around here last night," she said easily, apparently more interested in her cantaloupe than their responses.

Paul elbowed Adam, who gave a startled jump, then turned to Jean with a forced smile and a rehearsed line. Jean, however, was more interested in the nearly silent exchange taking place between Anna and Paul.

"See, she knows," Paul hissed to Anna, his voice so soft Jean had to drop her shields almost entirely in order to hear his message. "I told you it was a bad idea."

"We were the ones who found him," Anna whispered back. "We have a right to know what's going on with him. We should at least be allowed to know the guy's name!"

"I know, but Professor Xavier warned us not to tell anybody what we saw. If he finds out we were planning to sneak down to see him, so soon after last night—"

"Paul, shut-up! She's looking at us!"

"She wouldn't read our thoughts...would she?"

Jean winced slightly, but she made sure that her eyes were on Adam by the time Paul turned his head.

"So all you know is that someone was walking around the grounds last night," she said thoughtfully, repeating the line Adam had fed her as though she had been paying attention. "Well, that doesn't sound too serious to me."

"Yeah," Holly agreed. "It's probably nothing."

Jean smiled, rising from her chair and picking up her plate and mug. "Well, it's been a pleasure, kids, but I'm afraid I have to go. See you in class."

"Bye, Dr. Summers," the teens chorused. They sounded pleasant enough, but Jean could swear she felt their eyes following her all the way out of the dining hall.

#######

Jean held a short debate with herself once she was safely in the empty corridor. She knew Scott would be waiting for her in the conference room, but Anna and Paul's clandestine conversation had gotten her curious. No doubt Scott was planning to tell her all about the mysterious trespasser they were apparently hiding in the subbasement, but Jean suddenly felt an irrational, almost childish impulse to see the stranger first, to form her own opinions and judgments of the unknown man Anna and Paul had discovered running around the grounds before being influenced by anyone else's conclusions. Besides, if she was lucky, she might get a chance to try out some of the new, less-intrusive mental probing methods she had learned at the conference without having to go through all the trouble of running them by Charles first.

Jean shot a quick glance behind her to make sure the corridor was really empty, then strode directly for the elevator to the subbasement.

#######

"Hello?"

Jean poked her head around the door to Hank's office, only to see a hand- painted wooden sign reading 'Out To Lunch' hanging over the back of his chair by a length of rough twine. Jean turned away with a pointed smirk, very much aware of how Hank reveled in the double meaning of that sign. He put it up whenever he left his office, whether he was actually going to lunch or not. Since she hadn't seen him in the dining hall or met him in the elevator, she had to assume he had just stepped out for a breath of fresh air. That suited Jean perfectly, though. The fewer distractions she encountered down here, the less suspicious Scott would be when she arrived late.

"This is very immature of you," Jean mentally scolded herself, although she couldn't suppress the tiniest smile. "Bypassing all the proper channels, skulking around your own lab like a guilty student. What would Hank say if he came back and saw you like this?"

Jean shook her head at her own uncharacteristic behavior, but she didn't let her growing sheepishness deter her from her goal. She'd ostensibly come to the medbay to see the mysterious trespasser before anyone could bias her opinion of him, and that was precisely what she intended to do.

The large room was silent except for the rhythmic beeps and hisses from the machines monitoring the stranger's vital signs. The unconscious man was lying on his side in one of the three hospital beds with his back to the door. A crisp, white sheet was shielding him from her view except for the back of his head. Whoever he was, the fiery red of his hair was a rival to Jean's own. This was hardly unusual, however, in a world populated almost entirely by mutants.

Jean strode directly up to him, reaching out a hand to adjust the sheet so she could get a clearer view of his face. She gasped as an unexpected jolt of electricity stabbed at her fingertips before she could come within two feet of the sleeping stranger.

"Yow!" she exclaimed, jumping back. "A forcefield!"

She frowned, shaking her tingling hand in annoyance. "Who the heck is this guy to warrant such warm hospitality?"

Jean looked around, but there was no sign of the 'patient's' chart anywhere. Her frown deepening, Jean turned back to the stranger, her suspicion growing by the moment. Making sure she was standing a safe distance away from the forcefield, Jean stretched out her hand again, using her telekinesis to fold down the stranger's sheet.

The man shifted in his sleep, mumbling softly as he buried his face deeper into the pillow. Jean scowled. She was determined to at least find out this man's name before she left to meet Scott. She cocked an eyebrow then, smiling slightly as a sudden thought occurred to her. It looked like she was getting a chance to try out some of those new techniques after all.

Jean took in a deep breath through her nose, relaxing her shoulders as she brought her mind into focus. Her telepathy was strong, but nowhere near the level of Charles Xavier. Even a light scan required her full concentration, particularly if the mind she was scanning was that of a stranger. Finding out something as deeply ingrained as his name shouldn't be too hard, however. Closing her eyes, Jean took a moment to recall the exact method Dr. Oesi had outlined at the conference, then stretched out with her mind, smoothly entering into the stranger's thoughts...

Jean furrowed her brow, confused by what she was sensing. There was a strange kind of duality present here, almost as though she was reading two individuals rather than one. Puzzled, but intrigued, Jean headed for the stronger of the two, shivering slightly as thoughts and memories she could barely sense brushed by her like so many ghosts.

The landscape that met her mind's eye was dark and barren, but somewhere in the near distance, a dim light was glowing. Jean shifted direction to follow it, passing over craggy cliffs and lifeless plains. The air was stifling and stagnant, and the reek of brimstone grew stronger the farther in she traveled.

The light was closer now. Jean slowed her progress, suddenly cautious as she saw something moving in the flickering light, its shadow obscuring the sharp rock formations that littered the parched, cracked ground—

"Stop!"

Jean spun around, her green eyes widening in terror. A tall, russet-skinned man in a blood-red cloak was striding towards her, his short, sharp horns reflecting the flickering light, his long, narrow face made all the more intimidating by the shadows. It was a horrific, nightmarish image; an image so deeply terrifying that Jean found herself suddenly unable to think. She was frozen, as helpless as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. She was unable to speak, unable even to scream as the monster strode right up to her. He towered over her like a vampire from a movie, and all Jean could do was cringe.

"Go away! Get out of here, now!" the menacing demon was shouting, his intense, yellow eyes glowing furiously in the dimness.

"You idiot!" he roared. "You arrogant little--!" He cut himself off with a snarl, clenching his fist in a terrified desperation too strong to be expressed through words. He ground his sharp teeth, shooting her a glare that could have cut through stone.

"Don't you realize the danger?! Don't you know where you are?! Get out now, while you still can!"

Jean backed slowly away from the livid demon, her eyes nearly round, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She knew where she was now. She knew the reason for that forcefield. She had entered the mind of a demon, and now Belasco himself was standing over her.

The demon's face contorted with infuriated frustration at her continued silence. Before she could react, he reached out with his one, powerful arm and grabbed her by the elbow, wrenching her after him almost violently. Jean cried out in pain, but the demon ignored her. He was running now, his tail beating at his cloak as it billowed out behind him. Jean followed as best she could, stumbling over the uneven ground even as she struggled to free her arm from his vice-like grip.

"Let me go!" she gasped, twisting her body and clawing at his fingers with her free hand. "Let go of me!"

The demon stopped in his tracks, his glowing eyes positively deadly as he lifted her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"I have worked too hard to regain control to have you ruin it all now through your ignorant stupidity!" he growled, holding her securely as he resumed his running. "What was Charles thinking, sending you in here? I warned him, I told him..."

He snorted, bearing his sharp teeth. "I should have known better than to trust that bald fool. He always thinks he knows better than anyone else. He knows nothing!"

He turned his head slightly, addressing her now. "Listen to me," he barked, his harsh voice sharp and intense. "I will take you to safety, but then you must leave, understand!"

The reality of her situation was slowly beginning to penetrate through the blinding terror that had gripped her before. Belasco had her trapped. He was speaking to her, obviously trying to manipulate her, while all the time he was carrying her away to God only knew where at an alarming pace. She had to escape and quickly, before he reached his destination where he would no doubt have her completely at his mercy.

The demon's long tail was swaying below her, just out of her reach. Concerting her movements with the jarring rhythm of his steps, Jean reached down and grabbed the sinewy appendage, yanking it as hard as she could.

The demon howled in startled pain, dropping her as he arched his back, reaching behind himself to grab his throbbing tail with his red, three- fingered hand. Jean grinned in triumph, jumping to her feet and racing back the way they had come. She had to find someplace to hide. She needed to compose her mind again. She needed to find her focus if she was to escape.

There! A cave! Jean raced into the darkness, leaning against the cold, damp rock wall as she fell into a crouch on the ground. She gasped for breath, struggling to control her breathing and calm her racing heart as she worked to focus her concentration. She had ended up much farther in than she had ever intended to go. It would take a great deal of effort to get herself out and back into her own body, and she had to do it fast, before Belasco could find her.

"Jean Grey," a deep voice rumbled from out of the darkness, smooth and smug and oozing with curdled charm. Jean's head shot up in alarm, her heart starting its pounding all over again.

"Or should I say Jean Summers?" the voice went on in a musing tone. "You did actually marry that spectacled stiff, didn't you?" He chuckled. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, I suppose. Please believe me, my dear, when I say you are certainly looking your age this morning."

Jean glared, even though she couldn't see the man who was mocking her. She knew that voice, though...

Just then, her eyes widened as, suddenly, everything fell into place. The strange duality she had sensed, the fear she had seen flickering behind her kidnapper's angry eyes—"

"Oh, God," she gasped. "He only had three fingers..."

The smug voice broke out into cold laughter, a cruel cackle in the darkness. "Feeling a bit foolish now, are you? And so you should. For, my aging beauty..."

Jean gave a little cry of alarm as the cave was suddenly flooded with a bright, flickering light—the very light she had been following when she had first arrived. She looked up to see an imposing, red-skinned demon sitting tall and confident in an enormous throne carved high into the craggy rockface at the back of the cave. Jean found herself backed against the wall, a deep fire pit surrounding her in a smoky, flickering half-circle. The heat was incredible, and the awful stench of brimstone was nearly suffocating.

"...you have run from your savior's arm, only to fall directly into my trap," the demon finished with a broad, toothy grin.

"NO!" a familiar voice cried out from beyond the flames. "Jean!"

"Ah, if it isn't my old friend Kurt Wagner," Belasco said, turning his smile to face his horrified double. "How's the tail? I saw what she did to it." He gave a mock wince, his glowing eyes twinkling with dark amusement. "That must have stung."

"Let her go, Belasco!"

Belasco gave a pointed yawn, rolling his golden eyes. "Out of my sight, little freak," he said breezily with a dismissive wave of his five-fingered hand. "You bore me with your clichéd posturing. This is my realm, and you have no power here. If you keep quiet, though, I just might let you watch while I make those X-Freaks pay for what they have done to my body."

"It's not your body," Kurt retorted angrily, his tail lashing like a whip as he clenched his three-fingered fist. "And the X-Men had nothing to do with what happened. My hand had been aching long before I went back to the mansion and you know it."

"Irrelevant!" Belasco growled. "I will not be anyone's prisoner. And you will not stand in my way."

Belasco made a fierce gesture with his hand, and suddenly Kurt was standing next to Jean, trapped in place by a wall of fire and smoke. Kurt glared through the flames, snarling dangerously as Belasco once again burst into laughter.

"I know you think you have me trapped," Kurt snapped, "but don't forget that this is my mind too, Belasco. This may be your 'realm'," he snorted at the word, "and from what I've seen so far, you're welcome to it. But I'm afraid Jean and I won't be staying for the show."

With that, Kurt grabbed Jean's hand and leapt straight into the rock wall. Jean barely had time to scream before the two of them were enveloped by a sudden wave of roaring blankness.