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had all changed.
    He didn’t know how he knew everything had changed, any more than he knew how he had lived for such a long time. But early last night he had felt another person crawl into his head with him, like an unwanted stranger entering a dark house.
    An evil person.
    And there was nothing Albert could do to kick this stranger out.
    He knew that he was now connected to this evil force and it would soon come looking for him.
    And for his stone. He knew that, too. The evil wanted the stone and to get the stone it had to kill Albert.
    And like the three men down buried down on the ridge, it was going to get a fight.
    No clouds broke the blue morning sky. The day was going to be hot and dry, as many summer days were in these mountains. Albert sat quietly watching the morning sun creep down the side of the valley wall, the Springfield .30-’06 rifle he’d bought in 1923 at his side. For a century and a half, Albert had lived in this valley and he knew every rock, every tree, every path and game trail in and out. And he could stand so still that even deer walked past him without knowing he was there.
    He was a mountain man and these were his mountains. Mountain law would apply. He would defend his homestead.
    Let the evil monster come. He would be ready.
    Professor Charles Xavier sat alone in his study in the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, waiting.
    The stone fireplace crackled with a low fire even though the temperature in the Westchester area of New York was predicted to be in the high eighties. The Professor had discovered years before that a small fire took
    I-MEN
    the chill off the marbled walls and hard floors of his study. He knew that the chill was mostly imagined, since his hoverchair covered his legs and kept him very comfortable. But for the most powerful telepath in the world, imagined comfort was almost as important as real.
    Maybe even more so.
    The Professor slumped slightly in his chair, his bald head reflecting the yellow flames of the fire in the dark room. Lately he’d come to like the study dark, even during the bright, summer days. Heavy drapes covered the tall windows and he never had them pulled open. The sameness of the dark study, day or night, kept him better focused on events outside the room. And lately there had been a lot of events.
    It seemed there always were.
    And now there was another.
    Not as important on the scheme of things as some of the tasks his X-Men had handled lately, perhaps, but still one that needed to be dealt with.
    There was a knock at the door and Scott Summers and Jean Grey entered. They both moved across the study to face the Professor as he turned around.
    “You wanted to see us, sir,” Scott said.
    The Professor smiled. Scott had been with the team for a long time and he still sometimes acted like a young boy called into the principal’s office when summoned. It was one of the countless things that the Professor liked about the leader of the X-Men.
    “Yes,” the Professor said, glancing down at his hoverchair, then back up at Scott, whose eyes were covered by sunglasses made of ruby quartz—the only material that
    could keep his powerful optic blasts in check. “There’s a slight problem I need your help with.”
    “Anything,” Jean said. At the moment she was dressed in a long red summer dress that accented her flowing red hair and pale skin. Scott wore light summer slacks and a Polo shirt. A tennis sweater was tied around his neck.
    Jean and Scott made the perfect couple and always had, since their days as founding members of the X-Men—though the road from teammates to married couple was a rocky one. Still, even after everything they’d been through lately, all the missions and danger that being an X-Man meant, they looked rested and healthy. The two of them never ceased to amaze and please him.
    “This item,” the Professor said, “is sort of a family matter.” He hesitated, then went on. “Cain is acting strangely again.”
    “ ‘Acting