But not for long - the fire just seemed to dance along his slick black clothes before mysteriously putting itself out, and of course he was no worse for wear. What was his connection to fire? He knew Doctor Grey had said something about Loki ( his dad? ) and fire, but Bobby couldn't remember what now.

Actually, he was surprised he could think at all. How weird was this shit?! There were two mythological gods slugging it out on the street right in front of him - and one of them occasionally gave quantum physics lectures at the school! The substitute deity; Bob, the god of quantum mechanics. What was Bob the god of exactly? He knew for damn sure there was no god named Bob in mythology ( well, no, there was Bob of The Church of The Sub - Genius, but that was a joke ), or even a Robert. But he knew, since that was his unfortunate ( real ) first name as well, that it wasn't a very god - like name. Thor, Adonis, Zeus ... Robert? Robert, the god of plumbing, perhaps, or the god of sensible shoes. It just wasn't grand or awe inspiring.

Which is why he knew Bob couldn't be his actual name - Bob was too good looking and awe inspiring to have that plain a name.

The ground was shaking again, but he didn't think Marie was doing it - Fenrir was so fucking mad it was affecting everything around him. Bob was now bleeding from the eyes, blue tears dribbling down his face, but he stood his ground, proving why he and Logan made such a natural team: they weren't scared of anything, even some angry god coming right for them. He admired that, and wished he had it himself; if it wasn't for Marie, he'd have preferred to be back at the mansion, playing Resident Evil with John and her or something. Hell, even homework might not be so bad at the moment. Truth be told, as hard as he tried to pretend this didn't bother him at all, he was so freaked the hell out by all of this he was pretty sure - as soon as he got a moment to sit down - he was gonna barf.

In fact, in retrospect, he couldn't believe he'd accepted all this gods and demons stuff so easily. Maybe it was because he was a mutant, so nothing actually seemed shocking, or Bob ... what did they call it? .. Bob pushed him to accept it.
If so, maybe he should thank him. Assuming they survived all this.

The wolf that Scott had hit and virtually embedded in a Honda charged Bob from behind, a black blur that barely registered in his vision and that was moving far too fast for him to hit, and even as he opened his mouth to shot a warning Bobby knew it was too late.

Except this was where Bob showed that - in spite of his name - he was the god of cool.

Bob pivoted quickly on his heels, snagged the wolf in what looked like a headlock in midair, and as he turned Bobby heard a big cracking noise - like someone snapping a board in half over their knee - and as he finished his spin, Bob tossed the huge wolf towards Fenrir as if it was nothing but a dirty t - shirt. "Save yourself," Bob said, and as soon as the limp wolf impacted with Fenrir, it burst into flames.

No, not flames, just something like it - bright blue energy that made Fenrir howl and shy away, and dissolved the wolf into nothingness before it hit the ground. Holy shit, what was that all about ?

And that's when Fenrir, balling up his huge hands into ugly fists, let out a scream of rage that made Bobby's ear pop, right before the street exploded under Bob.

Pieces of road shot outward at what he bet was shrapnel like force, but he had the reflexes to duck and missed getting hit - he hoped Marie did too, because from this vantage point he couldn't see her.

He couldn't see Bob either - huge chunks of the macadam were standing up like the tips of giant spears, sharp enough to cut, and maybe eight feet high. Was Bob in the middle of that? Where the hell was he?!

Fenrir walked to the jagged edge of it, and seemed to look down, making a strange noise that sounded like rocks rattling around a drainpipe. Belatedly, he realized he was laughing.

"Camaxtli isn't here, you stupid shit," Fenrir snarled, presumably to Bob. His voice was hard to listen to - it almost hurt the ears as much as trying to look at his face hurt the eyes. "And agents aren't good enough. You should have known that, reject."

Bobby thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, behind Fenrir, and he leaned out of his alley to see a large car - a Cadillac? - hovering in mid - air. He guessed it was Doctor Grey levitating the car as it seemed to glide over the air towards Fenrir. He looked up just in time for the two ton vehicle to come crashing down on his head.

With Fenrir smashed beneath the car, Scott started firing beams of energy at the huge chunks of pavement, blowing them into smaller chunks, and the ground trembled a bit more lightly, causing some of the big slabs to shift, even as some of them rose up into the air and were cast harmlessly aside telekinetically by Doctor Grey.

( He couldn't even think of her as "Jean". She was a teacher who could lift a two ton car with her mind, and then hit somebody with it. It would probably take all his willpower not to call her "Sir". That was just too damn scary. Not Logan scary, but close. )

But with the bigger chunks of roadway cast aside, he could now see a huge pit in the middle of the street, maybe even deeper than the hole Marie had sent that first wolf into, and as far as he knew it could have tunneled straight into the earth. Could Bob have survived that? How far down did he fall?

The car started to shift, and it looked as if it was being lifted up from beneath. Fenrir was still with them and coming around ... but where was Bob?

Shit - what if he was dead? What if he'd died, and they were left alone to take on Fenrir? Should they keep going with the plan? Could they? What the fuck else could they do? It wasn't like they could get on the phone and call nine one one.

Bobby dropped to one knee, a sniper's position, and held out his hands, ready to encase that ugly mofo in so much ice he'd have to burn it for at least a minute to get out. It wasn't much, but maybe it would buy them a modicum of time.

Shit. Not for the first time, he really wished Logan were here. God or not, there was no problem he couldn't solve by turning it into chum.

***

Logan just stared at her, knowing this had to be some trick, some trap by the demon, and part of him was so furious he felt like he might explode. Using Mariko against him - fucker! He'd shove a fucking grenade up his ass and blow him to bits from the inside out! But another part of him ... felt strangely weak. Trick or not, she was here, she was ...

No, he was not going to collapse on his ass like some swooning maiden in a bad black and white film. But god, he almost felt like doing it. He never felt this at a loss in his life. Well, not that he could remember ... not recently.

Mariko seemed caught in her own paralysis, but recovered before he did. Her ebony eyes still wide in her shocked, pale  face, they seem to glisten with unshed tears as she collapsed forward, hugging him so tightly he was sure she was feeling for the skeleton beneath his skin. "Logan," she gasped, voice breaking with tears. "Where are we? Why don't I remember what happened?"

He put his own arms around her as simple reflex, a part of his mind raging at him to let this phony bitch go and track down that half assed cocksucker for daring to fuck with him like this ... but she felt real. It was a terrible thing to discover yet another sense memory he didn't know he had, and it knew how Mariko felt in his arms. She felt just like this. She smelled right too, and her body was warm, although she was starting to shiver.

This was wrong - he knew this was wrong - and yet he couldn't quite let her go.

"Shh, it's okay," he said as pure reflex, knowing damn well it was the opposite of okay. She buried her face in his neck, and he could smell her hair, feel its silkiness against his cheek ... god, he didn't care if that fucking demon had no body to speak of, he'd find a way to tear him apart.

Something constricted in his chest, making it hard to breathe, and she slid her arms around him, underneath his coat, seeking warmth. "Where the hell are we?" She asked again, sounding less panicky but slightly more defeated. "And why does it feel like I haven't seen you for ages?"

"It's ... a long story." She'd been dead for what, twenty years now? More? The thought left him feeling a little weak in the knees. He didn't realize he was crying until he felt the tears running down his face; they seemed as cold as ice. "But you're safe now." What a fucking lie - she was not safe, and apparently she never had been, no matter what he thought.

"How can you tell?" She asked, with a tiny chuckle.

That was a fair comment. "Nothing's attacked me yet."

"Okay, that's a good sign."

This was not his Mariko. She was dead; she was so long dead there were probably just bones in her coffin now, with a few slowly decomposing scraps of cloth. But ... she seemed like it. Even more than the ghost, and it wasn't just that she was warm and had a physical presence. It was ... something intangible, oddly enough, but still obvious. Just because he couldn't quite name it didn't mean it wasn't impressive. Part of him was still raging at the demon for this, but right now his most overwhelming instinct was to protect her. Maybe it knew that would happen; maybe that's what it was counting on. "I have to ... I have to get you off the street." He did; he had to hide her from that fucking demon, although he knew logically there was no hiding from it. Still, he had to get her out of plain sight - stupid or not, he couldn't walk away and leave her like this.

He wasn't sure he could walk away and leave her at all. But he'd cross that moat when he came to it.

It seemed physically painful to hold her away from him - an arm's length could have been a million miles - and when he did, he realized what a mistake it was: now he had to look into her tear streaked face, and it was like a knife to his heart. Now he wanted ghost Mariko back - it hurt, but not like this; it didn't cut straight through bone.

The demon's plan was perfect. Before, he had nothing to lose; now he did. The fucking bastard! He didn't care what he had to do, but he would find a way to make him hurt before he killed him.

Logan slipped off his jacket and draped it over her slender shoulders, sorry it was splattered with bug crud, but at least it was mostly dry now, and it was so dark she probably couldn't see it. Judging from her shivering, a silk blouse and a linen skirt weren't very warm. She slipped inside his jacket easily as he wiped the tears from his face with his forearm, and forced himself to look away from her, at the buildings around them. He knew the demon was gone, but only for now.

"This is some real bad shit, isn't it?" She asked, although it hardly sounded like a question.

"It looks worse than it is," he lied. "I can take care of it." By focusing on the scents around them, he was able to pick up a faint smell of latex interior paint - a recently painted apartment in one of the buildings. Maybe that meant it was unoccupied.

She wiped her own tears from her face with the back of her hand, and gave him a faint smile. She seemed swamped by his coat, like it was a cape instead of a battered jacket. "I know you can."

That made his gut twist, and he was going to tell her he couldn't always, but before he could she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, lips crushed against his. He responded without even thinking about it, retaining enough of a sense memory to know her kiss -

( But the last time you kissed her, all you tasted was blood. )

- and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet. This was dangerous - he was losing what little ability he had to think straight. Maybe if he could have her back, it wouldn't be so bad. Reality sucked - why couldn't he start over with Mariko here? There'd be no "X Men", no Organization after him; maybe he could try and have something like a real life with her. Would that be so bad?

Yes it would. Because this was a trick by the demon, and as soon as he was fully corporeal, he would control everything - he could take her away in a heartbeat, and probably would. He wanted him to suffer. And he would give him a few moments bliss with Mariko so he'd suffer all  that much more when he ripped her back out of his life. Fucker - did he think he was so stupid he wouldn't figure it out?

As they kissed, Mariko's cool fingertips brushed the back of his neck like he remembered, and sent a small frisson of pleasure down his spine. He didn't know why, but she always seemed to hit just the right spot, a nerve cluster maybe.

He had to stop. He put her down and broke away from her with all the willpower he had, which wasn't very much at the moment, and instantly turned away. "Come on," he gasped. Her hand found his and gripped it tightly, and he gave her hand a responding squeeze. He hoped she knew how much he wanted her; there just wasn't time. Maybe later; he hoped there was a later.

Logan found the apartment building easily, and let the scent of paint lead him to a ground floor apartment. Smelling no one inside it, he used one claw to cut the lock and nudged the door open with his foot.

It was a small three room apartment, unfurnished, the carpets still covered with tarps to catch the paint drips. Although it smelled strongly of paint to him, he knew she probably couldn't smell it at all. "I need you to stay here and wait for me," he said, turning to face her.  He thought the overwhelming darkness would hide her face, but she was closer to him because of it, and he could see her better in here.

She frowned, a worry line forming between her slender brows. "Logan, you still haven't told me what's going on."

He let go of her hand, but she grabbed his forearm, and somehow that was worse. "I can't, it's a long story. I promise I'll tell you when I come back."

"I'm not just going to stay here and twiddle my thumbs - "

"Please, Riko, you have to stay here. I can't risk taking you with me."

She got that stubborn look on her face, one he only now realized he knew very well. "Okay, I'm no over trained Human weapon, but I can take care of myself."

"That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"I don't want to lose you again." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Oh shit.

She gazed at him curiously, dark eyes widening, mouth setting in a way that he knew indicated she was trying desperately to hide her shock and failing. "What? What do you mean?"

"Please, don't make me say it," he begged, knowing he sounded pathetic, but he couldn't look her in the eyes and say it. You're dead - my incompetence killed you. "I will explain when I get back, I promise." Maybe by then, he could think up a plausible lie.

Her lips thinned to a stubborn line, and she shook her head. "No, Logan. You keep stalling, and you're making me imagine the worst. I can't just - "

He took her face in his hands, and tried to think of something he could say that would make her play along. Was she a stubborn woman? God yes, of course she was - he seemed to have a thing for impossible women. "Please, Riko. If you ever loved me, you're gonna have to trust me now. Stay here, wait for me - I'll explain everything when I get back."

She stared into his eyes, searched them for the truth, then nodded very slowly, a troubled look coming over her face. "You're scared. Why? What is it? Am I in danger, is that? Tell me."

He kissed her, because it was the only thing he could think of to shut her up. But he knew the instant he did he never should have, because he enjoyed it way too much. So did she.

They kissed until they were out of breath, and even then, as she took a breath, Mariko said, "Don't think I haven't noticed you're changing the subject." But she kissed him again, so he didn't have to worry about thinking up something else.

She pulled him back, so now he had her up against the wall, her body pressing into his, her hands running through and pulling his hair, and in the back of his mind he knew this was wrong: there was no time for this, this might be the distraction the demon needs, Clia had presumably gone ahead and was waiting for him to commit to his part of the plan ... but Mariko was here, she was alive, and maybe this time he wouldn't screw it up. Maybe this time, he could keep her alive.

She was holding him so close it reminded him how she used to cling to him so tightly when they made love, and he wanted to feel that again - he just wanted to be with her again, anywhere but here.

Mariko had run her hands up his back, pulling up his shirt, her flesh against his making goosebumps spread over his skin; and he kissed her neck, feeling her heart beat under his lips, tasting the salt and chemicals of her sweat, another thing locked away in a sense memory. Senses were almost all he had now that his brain had been so fucked over.

( It almost tastes like her blood. Remember the taste of her blood? )

Suddenly a bizarre wave of sorrow overcame him, drowning his lust, and he rested his head in the crook of her neck, trying to find the source and shut it down. "Logan," Mariko gasped, trying to catch her breath. She sounded curious and slightly troubled, as if she'd just been startled out of a dream. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

It was like something snapped inside of him; he didn't know what or why, but suddenly he started sobbing brokenly, as if she had just died again. Because she was dead; she had been dead. And it was all his fault. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, trying to swallow it back, tamp it down, control it, but he couldn't. It was like some emotional equivalent of a runaway train, and he couldn't seem to stop it. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh," she whispered soothingly, stroking the back of his neck. In a reversal of what had happened on the street, it was now her turn to comfort him. "It's okay, love. It's okay."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't, but he couldn't even talk; he couldn't even ask her to forgive him for failing her so badly. He struggled for several moments to take a deep breath, to swallow back tears and speak, but he realized he couldn't hope to stop while the scent of her was filling him. It was too much; he couldn't take it. It was going to kill him, but he couldn't stay with her anymore.

Logan shoved himself away from her, sniffing and trying to blink away tears, and managed to say without looking at her: "Riko, I have to go. I'm sorry, I have to - " He couldn't finish the sentence; he tried to cover a sob in a cough, and turned back towards the open door, wiping his eyes with his forearm.

"Logan," she said, and then hesitated. He glanced back at her, feeling a bit stronger now that he had gained some distance. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he knew they were for him - and perhaps for what she finally guessed had been their fate. He thought maybe she'd protest, but to his surprise, she simply said, "Be careful."

He nodded, feeling more tears spill from his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back for you." His voice almost cracked on the last syllable, so he looked away and wiped the tears and snot from his face, mentally ordering himself to hold it together. Wasn't he the killing machine, the fucking heartless animal that Scott always expected to piss in the halls? So what the hell was this? He couldn't start being Human now - he had no time for it.

Logan made himself stop in the doorway, and take one last look at her. Mariko - alive, breathing, real. It seemed unbelievable; it was unbelievable. " I loved you," he said, only belatedly realizing he had used the past tense.

Maybe she didn't catch the tense shift since his voice was so clogged with snot. "I love you too.  Don't forget me."

That brought fresh tears to his eyes, even though he tried to hold them back. "They can't make me." He left before he lost the strength to go.

As it was, every step away was a struggle. He kept thinking he was walking away, leaving her behind again, alone, vulnerable ... and that was when he decided to shut down. It was simply too painful to go on with his conscious mind in charge, so he let it submerge, sink down, let the angry and heartless side - the one that could fight the telepaths; the one that was nothing but pure reflex - come forward. It was the only weapon he had to fight this pain.

He no longer feared he had left her to die again; he didn't fear anything. The tears dried on his face, and he felt like he was turning to stone as he let cold rage take over, fill up all his empty spaces.

That was the thing. To avoid the pain, it was best to feel nothing at all. And sometimes, it was just too damn easy.

20

But not for long. Scott looked on in muted horror ( well, too much horrific crap had already actually happened - he was getting inured to it ) as Fenrir stood, lifting the car over his head, and tossed it aside like a tin can. Bob still hadn't come back, and he wondered if he was ever going to appear again. It would be just like him to leave this mess in their hands.

Bobby suddenly hit Fenrir with a ton of ice - before he was even aware of it, he was covered head to toe with the stuff, a God - sicle stuck to the broken roadway.

But not for long.

He basically flamed on, which Scott expected him to do ( Fenrir really loved fire ), but the flames seemed to leap right up the stream of ice Bobby was shooting at him as if it was lighter fluid. "Bobby!" Rogue shouted, horrified, but even though Bobby saw it, it was traveling too fast for him to do anything about it.

Bobby hit the wall and iced up as a small tornado of flames roared down the alley he was in, and Scott closed his eyes, ripped off his visor, and shouted, "Don't pick on kids, asshole!" He then opened his eyes, looking straight at Fenrir.

The force of the blast took even him by surprise. Without a visor to get in the way and dilute it, the force of the beams shooting from his eyes actually knocked him off his own feet, even as it sent Fenrir sailing across the street. Scott hit the brick wall behind him so hard it knocked all the air out of his lungs and it felt like he dislocated his shoulder, but he kept a death grip on his visor, even as he slid down to the pavement. He put it back on as he struggled to get his breath back, trying to ride out a strange wave of dizziness that left his head feeling like a helium balloon, and was glad Logan wasn't here. He could hear him now: "I'm not the one who almost knocked himself out ... "

When his vision stopped pixelating, he saw that he had put Fenrir through the coffee shop at the end of the block, and that most of the building had collapsed in on him - maybe that had been Rogue or Jeannie helping out, or he really hit it hard enough to bring the whole thing down. God knew Scott was surprised he hadn't embedded himself in a wall.

But of course the peace couldn't last. What was left of the street seemed to burst into flames, making them all leap back into their respective alleys ( except him, of course - he was flat on his ass inside one - and lucky thing for him ). There was a noise like a motorcycle engine revving inside an empty tunnel, and Scott realized as Fenrir walked out of
the ruins of the coffee shop that it was Fenrir growling. Oh shit - he had really pissed him off. Well, at least he had pulled the attention off Bobby.

He had just set foot on the river of fire that was the street when he suddenly went flying, tumbling ass over tea kettle before impacting the street about twenty meters away, the flames dying on the road as if doused with water.

"Do you think I've gone soft in the head?" Bob asked, now standing in the center of the road. Scott hadn't seen him appear or climb out of the hole, so he assume he teleported, but he was still bleeding blue from the eyes, and now it looked like he was bleeding from the ears too. "You've got one chance here, Fen - why here, why now?"

Fenrir pushed himself up to his knees, and just his slow movements seemed to indicate that Bob had put a hurt on him. "It's not about you, exile. You're just a cog; a footnote on the page. This realm isn't yours to rule, Aurelia - this realm has none, and needs one."

"And I guess that ruler is you, is it?" Bob's voice had subtly changed: his Aussie good old boy accent had mutated into a strange sort of refined yet imposing accent, something Scott had never heard before. He thought that, much like Fenrir's, it was something other than Human.

"Chaos already reigns here. Who better than me?" Fenrir rose to his feet, and with a raised fist sent several parked ( and damaged cars ) flying, plowing straight into Bob. And then, before anyone else could react, the entire pile of metal on Bob burst into flames, gas tanks exploding like popcorn kernels and vomiting molten metal debris all over the street.

Scott thought Rogue screamed in horror, but he honestly couldn't hear anything over the consumptive roar of flames.

Camaxtli's powers must have really come through, because Bobby was still well enough that he attempted to ice over the flames and douse them, but they burned far too hot for him to even get a foothold, the ice vaporizing the millisecond it was formed. The pile of flaming cars did topple over though - Jeannie or Rogue; again, he wasn't sure -
but there appeared to be nothing but a flaming crater beneath it all.

Even Fenrir seemed confused, until  Bob appeared about twenty feet behind the pile of flaming metal, giving him a grin colder than anything Bobby could generate on his best day. "Stupid ass motherfucker. Did you forget about Balder's gate?"

Okay - again, Bob had left something out of the briefing.

"That's a myth," Fenrir scoffed, although he didn't sound completely sure of that.

"Guess what, asshole - so are we," Bob shot back, as Kitty came out of hiding.

She was already phased, which was a good thing considering all the flaming detritus about, and she ran fast, through the wall of the bookstore, through a car or two, and straight behind a still unsuspecting Fenrir. Bob had given her something before he left the mansion, something that looked like a large, thick  gold coin with ... a picture of a gate on it. Balder's gate?

Kitty looked completely terrified, but to her credit, she stuck to the plan - she phased her arm right inside Fenrir's back and then pulled it out, leaving the coin inside his chest.

Fenrir turned, swinging his arm violently, and even though Kitty yelped in fear and jumped back, his arm phased right through her harmlessly. "What the fuck?" He exclaimed. "Ghosts can't do that ... "

Jean used her telekinesis to pick up a huge chunk of broken macadam and hit Fenrir upside the head with it, and as he stumbled from the blow, Scott shot a beam at him, low in the knees. It worked like he thought it would - it took his legs right out from under him, and sent him crashing to the street.

"You should really know your mythology, Fen," Bob taunted, his Aussie accent slowly creeping back into his voice. "Sometimes it can come back to bite ya on the ass."

Fenrir tried to get up, but stopped. He let out an agonized roar that shook the ground and caused the various piles of ruins to shift and avalanche, and he grabbed his chest as if trying to physically reach in and rip the coin ( ? ) out of himself . But then he just ... Scott wasn't sure what he had seen at first. It looked like he turned inside out and was instantly sucked into a pinprick sized hole of nothingness inside the center of his own torso.

The coin fell to the ground, making the smallest of ringing sounds as it rolled on its rim before coming to rest on the pitted pavement where Fenrir had been just a moment ago.

Okay, what the fuck had just happened?

Scott used the wall to help himself back up to his feet - the pain in his right shoulder was sharp but fading - and saw Rogue pick her way across the street, calling out nervously, "Bobby?"

"I'm okay," he replied, although Scott thought he sounded shaken. "That'll teach me to go all hero on a fire god, huh?"

Scott looked towards the odd coin, still laying in the street, and started towards it. Balder's gate didn't sound familiar at all. But then he heard Jean's voice in his mind. *Something's wrong, Scott.*

"Bob?" Rogue called curiously, and Scott looked down the street, where he had last seen Bob.

He wasn't there anymore. Or was he? Rogue suddenly broke into a run, and shouted, "Jean, get down here!" He assumed the Loa in her made her revert to Jeannie's first name - or maybe not. Hard to tell with Rogue sometimes.

He changed direction and joined her before Jean could, and saw that Bob was indeed still around - laying flat on his back in the street, in a slowly growing pool of cobalt blood. "Bob?" Rogue asked, sounding heartbroken, keeping her distance from the pool of gore. It looked like she wanted to go by his side, but she didn't want to step in his blood, and couldn't get that close to him anyways. "Oh god."

*Does he have a pulse?* Jean sent him. She wasn't down from the building yet, and even if she was, she couldn't touch Bob either.

Does he need one, he thought back, coming to kneel beside Bob, feeling the blood soaking into the torn leather of his uniform pant leg. He put a hand on his throat, feeling for the carotid artery, and eventually felt something. Bob was still bleeding from the eyes and ears, and what looked like a huge blue gash in his stomach that he hadn't noticed before.

"Is he dead?" Rogue asked. Bobby came up beside her, looking slightly ashen but not apparently burned. Icing up had probably spared him that.

"No, there's a faint pulse," he said aloud, adding in thought for Jean: But very thready. He was hardly a doctor, but he knew that wasn't good.

"I thought he was like Logan," Rogue said, as Kitty joined their ragtag group, a hand over her mouth and tears welling in her eyes.  "I thought he didn't get hurt for long." Scott was forced to shrug; it was hard to say what Bob was or wasn't capable of doing. "Can he die?"

Scott didn't even attempt to answer that one, because honestly he didn't know. But he supposed if Fenrir could die, Bob could too.