The darkness that engulfed the deserted street, the fog that was so thick it blocked her vision, the unforgiving cold that bit into her fingers…
She hated it. She hated it all with a fiery passion.
Bianca moved swiftly in the chilling San Francisco night, trying her best not to disturb the deafening silence that accented the sound of her rapidly beating heart. The dim light that sifted through the dirty windows of the pub illuminated the back alley just enough for her to see a rat taking cover behind the overfilled garbage cans, but she didn't bother to show her disgust. The smell of rotten meet and dried vomit made her slightly nauseous though and she pulled a face, but there was no one to see the display of her irritation.
She hated the mere idea of being out there in the open; the remains of the once wealthy city weren't exactly famous for their safety nowadays. The ruins of San Francisco have been long abandoned by their inhabitants, only those few unfortunate remained that didn't possess the means of escape.
Along with His demons.
It's been years since Bianca last saw a mortal crossing a street in broad daylight, and thankfully she didn't have to be around during the nights enough to know how many lunatics actually dared to show their faces in these unholy times. Not many were brave enough to leave their shelter, that was for sure, but the witch couldn't really blame the deserters. One day they woke up only to find that they became exiled in their own home, with nowhere else to go. As much as Bianca admired courage in a man, she didn't expect to find a single mortal among the creatures that currently created a drunken mass inside the bar.
Bianca was a descendant of the famous Phoenix clan – a family of very powerful, elite assassin witches, with no allegiances other than to their own vengeance. They would seek out and kill any bounty they're hired to hunt down.
Or at least, that was the description that the ever so famous Book of Shadows contained about them.
In current reality though, there was no magical being that didn't answer to His calls, and that didn't exclude her clan either. Taking an offered job was not about getting the bounty anymore – not that there was even the option of refusal. It was about survival, like practically every little action one could perform in this evil ruled world.
Bianca still remembered the day clearly – the day all hell broke loose in her previously calm universe. She was nineteen, only one year away from becoming a respected member of her community. She was going to become an assassin just as every female witch in her clan, a trustworthy comrade of her sisters and a deadly enemy to whoever crossed her path at the same time.
She was just finishing her training for the day along with some younger apprentices when a golden haired boy appeared from seemingly nowhere. It wasn't an everyday occurrence that one managed to get through their wards without getting seriously injured, but even if he succeeded in getting in in one piece, He sure as hell wasn't going to leave in the same state.
Or so she thought.
Getting rid of intruders had always been the task of the older witches; trying to fulfill the women's duty instead of them would have been considered a highly offensive action, so Bianca didn't launch at the newcomer.
And that was her luck.
The word 'bloodshed' wasn't awful enough to describe the happenings of those next few minutes she witnessed in frozen terror. By the time the boy was finished with her teachers, there was so much blood covering the floor that it soaked through her sneakers within seconds. She still remembered hearing the shriek of one of the few survivors, and her nightmares were still colored with the sight of her mother's body lying among the corpses. Cold. Unmoving. Dead.
He was grinning all the way. And not in a stony, unaffected manner either; every move He made, every quirk of the corner of His mouth suggested that He was enjoying His actions thoroughly.
He appeared to be barely past His teenage years, probably younger than Bianca herself. His innocent smile would never have betrayed what He had just done, but the pleasure with which He tasted the blood off the blade of His sword chilled the survivors to their very core. The distinct smell of salt and rust penetrated Bianca's airways easily, leaving the familiar metallic taste of blood on her tongue. Only, that time it wasn't her own blood that flavored her taste buds…
Merely a week had passed after the event when Wyatt Matthew Halliwell proclaimed Himself to be the new King of both the magical and non-magical worlds, quickly destroying the line that separated the two. A new age arose when He started to build His kingdom, and it didn't take much for Him to become the new Source of All Evil. That happened nearly six years ago, and nobody has been able to put an end to the ceaseless demolition He dealt to said worlds ever since then.
Mortal, witch, demon – His Lordship executed anyone who dared to cross His path without picking, only ever paying special attention to Darklighters. They were the only creatures who held the means to do Him any harm, so naturally, He did everything within His power to get them on the list of extinct races.
Thus Bianca's latest mission.
A Darklighter was rumored to occasionally visit the pub she was currently eyeing, and given her position as one of His top assassins, she was supposed to exterminate the creature the Twice-Blessed labeled exiled. She didn't feel the need to enter the facility; the anti-orbing spells would force any Darklighter to arrive and leave on his feet, and she didn't mind waiting for her prey to show up as much as she would mind dealing with a room of filthy lower level demons.
The fog that settled on the ruined city made it difficult to see further than a few meters, so Bianca didn't even bother to seek for her target and slowly closed her eyes, rather concentrating on her other senses. The temperature seemed to drop with each passing second though, and she eventually started considering the possibility of ambushing the bar and taking out every single living being in there rather than staying outside for much longer.
She didn't have to wait for long though – the back door opened with a loud creek before she could make up her mind, and a small, dark figure stumbled out of the building.
The Phoenix took a few silent steps closer to the stranger, but she didn't leave the shadows just yet, not wanting to reveal herself sooner than necessary. Her heart started to beat at a faster pace, but the adrenaline rising inside her wasn't caused by the thrill of a kill like it once had been. It was due to anxiety; a constant fear inside her gut that made her dread the possible outcomes of every single mission she was assigned.
The woman moved swiftly towards her soon to be victim, conjuring a dagger while steadily nearing the stumbling figure. If his un-coordinated limping was anything to go by, then he was probably drunk, meaning this was going to be easier than taking candy from a baby. Bianca snorted, not bothering to stay unnoticed anymore. He would never know what hit him even if he was about to turn to face her now.
Her target stopped abruptly, and after a moment of clutching his right thigh he fell on his knees. His face was hidden in the dark, but even from behind Bianca could see the blood that colored his hand.
There was something wrong. The Darklighter shouldn't be injured. If he did something to wrong the rest of the demons inside the pub, then why would they decide to let him leave? Was his injury so bad that they didn't even bother finishing him off, sure of the fact he was going to die on his own?
No. That wasn't it. Bianca could already feel the all too familiar dread rising inside her, filling every cell, every fiber of her body. 'Let it be a demon. Please, let it be a demon,' she repeated inwardly as a mantra, hoping to chase the alarming sensation away.
She inched closer and squinted to examine the back of his neck, hoping against hope his brand didn't start with the letter H.
H-MC17SF-1542216, said the poorly inked black tattoo on the man's nape. Bianca's blood froze in her veins instantly. The reason the poor thing decided to leave on his feet wasn't because of the anti-orbing spells around the city. It was because he wasn't a Darklighter.
He was a human.
A kid, now that she inspected closer. Light blond hair, strong, slightly pointy features. He had a slim built and was around her height, but he couldn't be older than fifteen. Sixteen at the very best.
Bianca stepped back into the shadows in her hesitation. What was she going to do now? The boy was bleeding from his leg heavily; he wouldn't get far even he was able to carry his own weight. Did he manage to sneak out while his owner wasn't paying attention? Or did the demons just let him go after injuring him, deciding to enjoy a good old midnight hunt?
Could she get him to the nearest point of entry before the residents of the bar noticed he was missing?
Probably not. But that never deterred her from trying before, why change old habits now?
She was just putting her dagger away and taking the first step towards the kid when the door burst open again, revealing another man whom Bianca recognized instantly. It was Zankou, the Lord's right hand. She would never mistake that cocky posture, the short boxed beard, or those eager, ivory eyes for anyone else's. She's been the subject of his hungry stare one too many times not to recognize the man even from afar.
"Shit," Bianca cursed under her breath, making sure her figure was covered by the shadows once more. Zankou's presence meant two things: first, the Darklighter was sure as hell nowhere near the bar, and second, there was no way she could help the boy now.
Zankou advanced on the kid with lazy steps, enjoying the view of his struggling form. The evil smirk that took over the man's features was probably the most disgusting sight Bianca has ever had the chance to witness, and having to deal with demons on a daily basis, that was saying something.
It was only when Zankou patted the boy's head when reality slowly dawned on her.
'Perverted son of a bitch!'
"What's the hurry, little guy?"
Bianca felt nauseous when the supposedly sweet tone of the demon hit her ears. She wanted to help the kid, she really did, but what could she have done at that point?
After a moment of hesitation an idea came to her. Zankou always had a week spot for leather clad women. Maybe she could distract him long enough for the kid to find an escape route…
Maybe she could indeed, but to be honest, she didn't really fancy an encounter with the ruthless man, and when she gave it a second thought, what use that would be anyway? Without her escort the boy would just find his death around the next corner before he could utter his name, and her actions would have only delayed the inevitable at the end of the day.
Plus, she'd learnt the hard way not to stick her nose where it didn't belong, even if it meant sacrificing the life on an innocent being.
Because that was what her world really was about – in order to survive 'kill or be killed' had to be supplemented by the simple term 'run and let die', as cruel as it may have sounded.
The witch heard the muffled cry of the teenager when Zankou stepped in front of him, his barely coherent words suspiciously sounding like prayers.
'Even if your God exists, he's probably had his eyes tightly shut for a while now, kid,' she thought bitterly, feeling agitated for not being able to help the young mortal. She shuddered when Zankou grabbed a fistful of his fair hair and yanked him forward before pushing his palm flat against the boy's forehead. She knew what was coming before the kid even had a chance to realize his insides were starting to heat up.
For a short moment the boy continued to murmur his prayers, but at this point Bianca was convinced that no God could have been possibly looking down on this rotten world.
She winced at the sound that escaped the teen's lips a moment later – it was the closest thing to a shriek of an animal she ever heard a human produce.
Fuck convenience. That child was better off dead than suffering under the hands of that monster.
"Zankou," she called out before taking the first step towards the lit part of the alley, walking in a graceful, calculated manner.
"Bianca?" the demon turned around abruptly, letting the kid's body drop to the ground. He didn't seem to be conscious, and the Phoenix instantly regretted her decision to interrupt. "What are you doing here?" Zankou asked with a confused expression, turning his body fully to face the witch.
"Business," she replied easily, "Tracking a Darklighter."
Zankou cocked his head to the side, but there was no comprehension written on his features. Bianca cringed under his blank stare; Zankou might not have been a genius, but surely, even he could understand a sentence of no more than three words, right?
"Oh," was the only thing the demon supplied before Bianca could finally find some traces of intellectuality on his expression. She heard the boy stir and squared her shoulders, trying to keep the man's attention from his victim. Her bait worked brilliantly, as she soon was greeted with the all too familiar, lust filled stare of the demon – only something seemed slightly off about it this time. "He hasn't told you yet then," he stated lightheartedly, and when Bianca's confused expression confirmed his suspicion he let out a wicked smile, "I see."
The woman shot a quick glance at the still stirring boy, but her concern for the kid's fate was gradually being replaced by the fear for her own.
"Is there something I should be informed about?" she raised an eyebrow with feigned indifference, but her heart was beating faster than a jackhammer. The demon's eyes were assaulting every visible inch of her body, the insatiable hunger in them only adding to the Phoenix's nausea.
"Nothing to be concerned about, my Phoenix," he nearly grumbled, but his gaze never left the soft curves of her body. Bianca used his moment of distraction to take a better look at the boy, and to her greatest surprise, her gaze was met with a very conscious, very scared face. He had bright, grey orbs – just like she imagined them to be when she first saw his hair – and even though they were hazy with the previously experienced pain, he seemed to be very much aware of his situation.
"The Darklighter you've been looking for has already been taken care of," she heard Zankou's rumbling voice echo among the walls of the small alley, and knowing this would be her only chance she decided to try and urge the mortal to run.
Her ploy of slowly running her hand along her ribs, pretending to be smoothing a wrinkle in her suit worked perfectly, as Zankou's eyes followed closely even the slightest move of her fingers. After finding the fearful gaze of the teen again she slowly motioned to a small passageway with her eyes. It was merely a few feet behind the boy, and covered by the shadow enough for it to be barely noticeable. Bianca suspected the narrow lane criss-crossed among the buildings – the perfect place to hide in or to lose someone on your tail.
Seeing that her message didn't quite get through the first time Bianca repeated the motion with her orbs, all the way paying attention to keep Zankou's mind occupied.
She was sure that sympathy would be the cause of her death one of these days.
"Stealing a job from an assassin has never been a wise choice, Zankou," she stated with a soft voice, lightening the threat in her words with a seductive, playful tone. She was forced to tear her gaze from the mortal when the demon took a step towards her, but as if suddenly remembering something his walk came to a halt before he could reach her.
"I wouldn't steal anything from you," Zankou retorted with a conflicted expression, but his still roaming eyes suggested there was only so much truth behind his words. "The case had been re-assigned to me by our Lord."
That caught Bianca's attention. When a mission was taken from someone it usually meant the person had failed to carry it out, and when someone failed a mission, it usually meant the person was as good as dead. Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she didn't let her emotions surface.
"Oh, don't you worry, my Phoenix," Zankou inched slightly closer to the woman, smiling in a supposedly reassuring way. Bianca thought it was rather creepy. "He has a much, much more important job for you."
Crap. She wasn't a fan of important jobs. The last time she was given one she was forced to take the life of a person who trusted her, and almost got kicked out of the Resistance.
Oh, didn't she mention that part? Bianca has been an active member of a secret rebellion against His reign for nearly three years now.
"What job?" she inquired calmly, but inside her head thoughts were following each other faster than a speeding train. What if she was going to be required to kill a member of the Resistance again? They barely tolerated her presence since she took Mark's life, surely they would dispose of her if she…
Wait, this was an important job, if Zankou spoke the truth. It couldn't be about just any member of the rebellion. What if she was going to be sent after one of the leaders?
'What if it's one of His cousins?'
She couldn't possibly carry such a mission out, not without sacrificing her life. Not that she would even try it – she may not have held all the Halliwells in high regard, but going after one of them… She might have done some dubious things during her life alright, but even she wasn't that much of a traitor to actually go that far.
"Well," Zankou's features lit up at the thought of being the one to present her with the news, but after dwelling on the idea for a moment he decided to rather take the safe way out. His Lordship probably wouldn't be very pleased if he was going to ruin His fun. "I'm sure He's going to fill you in soon," he smirked in an unsettling way, but didn't move to approach her again. "Very soon."
It was only when Zankou turned his back on her when Bianca realized that something was seriously off about the conversation. The demon always enjoyed the benefits of being second-in-command, and the witch was sure it was only due to the King's specific orders of not to harass His assassins that Zankou hasn't tried to actually rape her yet. Still, it never held him back from trying to grope his way down into her pants whenever Wyatt wasn't around, and it took Bianca some great effort to deter his advances without doing or saying something that would earn her a spot among the Exiled. This time however, the man paid her only so much attention before turning his focus back to the…
"Where the fuck did that little—"
Bianca smirked as she shimmered away, a slight feeling of triumph preventing her from dwelling on the demon's unusual behavior any longer. 'Smart kid.'
…
The witch didn't sleep a minute during the rest of the night, despite not having anything to do in particular.
A note was waiting for her on her bed when she arrived back into her apartment, with only a few numbers scrabbled on it with an angular script. "15:00". There was no question about who wrote it, or how did the person get through the wards she carefully placed on the building. The Twice-Blessed ruler always found a method to get his way.
Bianca considered paying a quick visit to the Resistance before her meeting with the Source, but she didn't really have any news she could give them for the time being. She could probably warn them about the possibility of her being sent to hunt one of them down, but there wasn't much point in inducing panic over uncertainties. The possibility was always there; they all knew whom they were dealing with when they accepted an assassin into their rows.
Bianca knew their choice was only due to desperation though – the Resistance never managed to pack a serious enough punch for the King to consider them to be a real source of danger, but a spy among His underlings could have changed that for all they knew. Despite their expectations the Phoenix had to admit she didn't prove to be of much help when it came to gaining information; Wyatt Halliwell tended to make decisions in the heat of the moment, and His strikes could never be predicted in time for her to warn the Resistance. Her only accomplishment during the last three years had been a just-in-time report about a planned raid of a Safe house, and saving a few hundred lives was enough for them to over-look the incident with Mark.
Hopefully, it would be enough for them to over-look the possible consequences of her next assignment as well.
The witch tried her best not to think about what the Source might have planned for her when she entered the anteroom of his office just a few minutes before 3 o'clock, but the options simply didn't let her mind rest. What if He really wanted her to kill one of the rebellion leaders? That would earn her a highlighted spot on the never-ending list of the Angel of Death – whether she accomplished the task or not. If she chose to do it, someone would spill the information of her being involved with them to His Lordship for sure, and He would just execute her either for that, or for failing a mission in case she chose to refuse.
'Relax, Bianca,' she tried to calm herself down while a surprisingly well-groomed demon was holding the door that led to His office open for her.
"He's waiting for you."
'Of course he is,' she thought bitterly, marching up to the entrance with a confidence she didn't feel. 'Please, let it be just an escort mission,' she silently pleaded with a nonexistent force, despite knowing that the ruler didn't care about any of His demons enough to offer her protection to.
"My Lord," she half-kneeled immediately after stepping inside the large room, ignoring the line of guards who always stood beside the walls whenever He was present. They were part of the many formalities He persisted on keeping – one that annoyed Bianca to no end.
"Stand," was all the ruler offered to her, sitting back behind a ridiculously enormous wooden desk. The assassin complied, but didn't dare go closer before He motioned for her to do so.
There was a prolonged silence where He let his sharp, deep-blue eyes wander around the curves of her body, silently admiring the perfection of the feminine form covered in the shiny leather. Bianca squared her shoulders, giving Him the sight He expected to see – not only because she was taught not to be ashamed of herself, but also because not doing so would fairly shorten her lifespan. The Twice-Blessed tilted His head and grinned at her reflexive reaction, but didn't speak up yet. He never showed serious interest in any of His assassins, but it was obvious that He didn't detest the view that their tight-fitting uniforms provided either.
Bianca somehow managed to stand His scrutinizing gaze, not daring to break eye-contact. It wasn't like His appearance changed much since the last time she was here anyway, so there was nothing new for her to study on His form.
He was handsome, that was given. Very handsome. Along with the shoulder-length, curly blonde hair, the light irises and the strong, muscular form He was the type Bianca would normally go for if she wanted to have a bit of fun. Yet, it wasn't His appearance that made her breath short.
She knew what He was capable of. She experienced His wrath first hand one time, and the fact that she was willing to work for the executioner of her mother spoke volumes of how far she would go to avoid facing it again. She might have been born as a neutral being, but as an assassin she knew well enough what bordered the side of evil. The man currently in front of her exceeded the limits of said side long ago, and she was no fool to think His looks would add up to His mercy.
"Bianca," He started in a light tone, but His voice strangely sounded like He was only testing the name rather than addressing her with it. "Perfect," He concluded after a moment, but His wandering gaze suggested He wasn't only talking about her name. "I'm sure he will be more than pleased to take possession of you."
If it wasn't for the long years of training how to control her reactions, Bianca was sure she would have dropped on her knees from fright right then. Her spine stiffened a bit and she got goose bumps, but to her credit, she managed to hold back the shudder that threatened to shake her body. Before her mind could process the man's words He spoke up again, only to confirm her newfound fears.
"You are going to be given a new master, Bianca."
The sadistic smirk plastered on the Source's face urged Bianca to turn around and run as fast as she could, yet none of her emotions made it to the surface. The concept of serving one of His demon buddies frightened the witch to her very core, but aside from a slight quiver of her lips she didn't give any indication of her despair.
"As you probably know, I have a brother."
His brother. Bianca never thought she would consider strengthening the lines of the believers, but if there ever had been a good time to become religious, now would be perfect.
"Don't worry, he is told to be a way nicer guy than I am."
The King couldn't suppress His laughter at the dumbstruck face the Phoenix witch made after hearing this declaration. Well, not that anyone could blame her for being surprised. She was anything but used to the happy-go-lucky manner He was speaking in, and one rarely had the chance to see Him actually laugh. The woman just started to consider nipping her own arm in order to wake up from the absurd dream, when the Source suddenly transformed back into the merciless murderer with a single sentence.
"You are to serve him from now on, understood?" The Twice-blessed spoke dangerously low, obviously enjoying the struggle Bianca was in and unbeknown let to be shown.
"Yes, my Lord," came the automatic reply, trying not to let her lifeless mask slip from its place. Her inner turmoil just worsened when the man began to emphasize the differences between her soon-to-be master's and minions' ranks, indicating to not even try defying him if she cherished her life the slightest bit.
"Even though my brother is more than capable of taking care of any inconveniences on his own, the sudden increase of Darklighter attacks makes me slightly… uneasy," He said and waited for Bianca to nod, signaling she understood. She knew that the Twice-Blessed stressed the first part only to avoid any kind of attempt from her to bring harm to His brother, but she didn't dare mention how unnecessary it was to remind her of the power the Halliwells held. "You are going to take care of any nuisances that may disturb his peace – besides whatever tasks Christopher might assign you, of course."
Christopher. Even though she heard the rest of the sentence loud and clear, that was the only word that was still ringing in her ears. Christopher.
The name of her brand new nightmare.
Christopher Perry Halliwell. What did she know about him again? Not much besides his name. She knew that despite Wyatt's initial attempts to involve him in governing the kingdom the younger Halliwell always preferred to stay in the background, hidden from the direct impact of the happenings. She never actually saw him in person, nor did she ever hear his name during her years as a royal assassin. Perhaps he was just as much afraid of his brother than the rest of His family – it didn't take much for His Lordship to murder His own mother after all, how eliminating a sibling would be any different?
Then, another thought came to her mind, instantly crushing all the hopes her mind previously built up about somehow getting along with her new Lord. There was something else she knew about the younger brother…
She knew that at least one of his cousins feared him more than the Source Himself.
"Christopher!" Becoming bored the Twice-Blessed suddenly called turning his head to the ceiling, as if he was waiting for someone to drop from above. Bianca knew that Whitelighters could hear their charges even from great distances; she once saw how Hailey – the eldest daughter of Paige Matthews – reached her brother the same way. The strange form of communication must have been working between relatives too, she concluded. What Bianca didn't expect were the beautiful, bright blue orbs filling the room, revealing a tall, dark-haired figure only a few seconds later.
The newcomer's features were soft, boyish even, but the strong line of his jaw suggested he must have been in his twenties – probably a good three or four or years younger than Bianca though. The momentary amazement the woman found in the shining colors faded just as quickly as it came, once her mind caught up and she actually realized who materialized only a few feet away from her.
"Don't use that name, Wyatt. Ever."
The Phoenix's heart skipped a beat at the warningly low tone the young man greeted the King with. She was sure that if it had been anyone else…
"But that's your name, isn't it?" the blond haired man asked, pleased with the results of how His words affected His little brother.
Bianca could feel her blood freezing in her veins as she watched her new master turning around lazily, burying his piercing, intense green eyes in those cold blue ones that she learned to fear years ago.
"What do you want, Wyatt?" the younger male eyed his brother suspiciously, not sparing a glance to the woman standing next to him. Mere moments ago Bianca couldn't have even imagined somebody talking to the Lord in such manner without being vanquished on the spot, yet His response was light, escorted with a vivid smile at that.
"Always running ahead of things will get you hurt one day, dear brother."
Wyatt slowly stood up and made his way towards the younger male, His unpleasant grin still in place. He crossed his arms in front of His chest disapprovingly – a gesture that Bianca recognized instantly, as it was usually followed by the vicious screams of His "chat partner". She inhaled deeply, waiting for the familiar flames to consume the brown haired man, but the seconds passed by in utter silence and the flashes never came. Then again, she had to remind herself that the current chat partner was not just any demon or witch for that matter.
"You really should drop that attitude Chris, on your own behalf," He went on after receiving no response from His brother, letting a bit of His irritation slip to the surface. Christopher however, didn't seem to be touched by His menacing approach the slightest – only his frustrated expression suggested he heard the warning.
"What do you want, Wyatt?" he placed the question again, feigning exhaustion to prevent any more wisdom from leaving his brother's mouth.
So, this was it then. Bianca was going to die a slow, painful death at the hands of some psycho who dared to show annoyance towards the freaking Source.
"Very well," Wyatt interrupted her train of thoughts before the woman's panic could take full control of her mind, and turning towards her He raised His arms in a way that reminded Bianca of someone showing off a precious gift. "I want you to meet your new… personal assistant," He finished pointing to the witch they both ignored up until now, with a suggestive grin seizing His strong features.
So far, Bianca could name only two times when she had been scared to death in an as literal sense as it gets, and both of those times could be linked to the older Halliwell brother. When her gaze first met the younger one's though, she was forced to extend her mental list with a third occasion, linked solely to him.
Bianca wasn't sure how long has she been standing there. Her body felt numb and heavy at the same time, paralyzed by an invisible weight that somebody hanged on her shoulders. As the seconds passed by in utter silence, she reached the point where she wasn't actually sure she was even standing anymore.
After trying to stand her ground for a minute she finally couldn't suppress a shudder, not quite eager to get so much attention from the two most feared men in the whole world. She might not have known what kind of personality Chris Halliwell possessed yet, but she still felt chills run down her spine when he studied her with the most captivating emerald green eyes she had ever seen.
They scared the hell out of her.
She was somewhat accustomed to the older Halliwell's feasting gaze, but His brother was an entirely different story. No matter how hard she tried, Bianca simply couldn't pick up any sign of life in the younger man's icy, distant look. She thought there was kind of a haunted feel to him, his soft features devoid of all emotion.
Bianca has been serving the Twice-Blessed for years now, and even though most of the times the King seemed like He was detached of everything in this world, there was always a sparkle in His eyes that suggested He was a lively person beyond the surface. Not that the motivation for killing could really be called a purpose of life, but it still indicated that He was doing things for His own reasons – that He had something buried deep inside, something that kept Him going… something that proved He was alive.
The fact that no such thing could be said about the younger ruler made her anxious. His calculated expression was a firm mask that separated him from the outside world, and Bianca couldn't find anything in his cold demeanor that could sign he was indeed… well, human. He was showing no interest, no anger, no attachment…
No life at all.
"I don't need a babysitter," Christopher broke the silence and stated firmly, however his previous annoyance seemed to be forgotten as he studied the Phoenix without any real interest.
"Sure you don't, Chris. I don't doubt that you can—"
"Then why setting her on my tail? Do you not trust me anymore, brother?"
Lunatic was the first word that came to Bianca's mind after hearing the dangerously low tone the Witchlighter questioned his brother in. She seriously doubted she could get used to someone displaying such a dismissive attitude towards her Lord, as under normal circumstances it would equal with a suicide attempt. The relationship between the Halliwell brothers was obviously far more complicated then what she first presumed.
Wyatt was obviously unnerved by the accusation as He growled and replied in a voice that left no place for arguments, shooting His infamous 'don't mess with me' look to His brother that Chris easily sidestepped.
"Nonsense! You are the only one I trust completely. You know that."
Bianca believed Him. The golden haired man spoke with so much conviction that nobody would doubt the affection He had for his little brother, however, she wasn't so sure if the same applied to Christopher as well.
"She is merely an assurance for your safety. As I said, think about her as a personal assistant."
Seeing that His brother was still not quite convinced Wyatt stepped closer to Bianca, making her flinch almost unnoticeably upon touching her arm.
"She is my best, Chris. She may even teach you somethi—"
"She's an assassin, Wy."
Bianca's breath hitched, partly from the nickname she never heard anyone use before, and partly from the objectivity her new master spoke about her rank with.
"If you want me dead, you really could have thought about something more original, don't you think?"
Bianca watched in awe as the Source slowly advanced on the young male, towering over him slightly. As a result of trying to regain her composure in the last few minutes she started to observe the two men under a new light, which resulted in her noticing the difference between their stances.
The King's brawny form was threatening, His crossed arms making His posture appear to be full of authority, while the younger man would seem to be inferior to most people, being a few inches shorter and hands hidden in the pockets of his deep blue denim jeans.
While the Source might seem more menacing at first glance, His dark clothes and muscular figure still didn't quite achieve the same effect Christopher's mien did. He was slender alright, but despite his slightly boyish looks his built wasn't as delicate as an adolescent's. His figure might have been shaped for the attractiveness of youth yet rather than strength, but his grey long sleeve shirt was wrapped around a toned abdomen from what Bianca could see. She noticed how tensed his shoulders were, how aware he seemed to be about his surroundings – as if being constantly on alert, he was ready to strike or dodge an attack at any given moment. While the King used verbal threats and hasty gestures to intimidate someone, Christopher simply let his silence speak instead of words.
From where she stood, it was pretty damn effective.
After observing the Halliwells' exchange for a few minutes, the Phoenix became absolutely sure the dark haired man would have the upper hand if it came down to a fight with his brother – well, at least without magic, that is.
Wyatt finally came to the conclusion that it was useless to try and convince His sibling about the suitability of His decision, so He rather turned towards the door and called out for His right hand man.
"Zankou!"
The demon opened the door and stepped inside the office without missing a beat. Despite not seeing him in the anteroom earlier, the malicious grin that was glued to his face made Bianca think he was very much aware of the discussion that took place in the office. He was probably just waiting for his turn to join them, already knowing his role in the happenings.
"Yes, my Lord?" Zankou asked without taking his eyes off of the Phoenix witch, his expression betraying his enjoyment over her obvious nervousness.
"You will help Bianca settle in her new home."
New home, huh? She should have seen this one coming. How else would she be able to keep her new master safe if she wasn't going to live with him, after all? Logic didn't prevent her from shivering at the concept of living with Christopher, though. Her mind urged her to protest, to tell the ruler that she was absolutely capable of keeping His brother safe even if she didn't move in with him, but reason told her to keep her mouth shut and just accept the dramatic circumstances. Objecting would be pointless, and she had to admit she couldn't very well keep a constant eye on someone if she was to spend the nights at her own place. She had a feeling that complaints wouldn't do much good to her health either.
"B-but, my Lord, I—" Bianca heard the uncertain words distantly, and it took her a moment to realize they weren't uttered by her, even though she was thinking about something equally incoherent along the same lines.
"No buts, Zankou," the King put a quick end to the demon's whining, and the Phoenix was surprised to find an utterly terrified look on Zankou's face. Maybe he wasn't so well-informed about his role after all. "My brother will not try to vanquish you for entering his apartment this time," the Twice-Blessed finished in a heavy tone, and while He didn't bother to turn towards His sibling, the warning in the sentence had clearly been meant for the other younger Halliwell.
Miraculously, Zankou's dubious expression managed to push the assassin past her dreamy state, forcing her back to reality with a rather painful smack.
If Christopher attempted to kill the Lord's second-in-command at least once already, then what were the chances of her own survival? She was no fool – the odds definitely weren't with an easily replaceable assassin there.
"I'd say 'will not try' may be slightly inaccurate."
Bianca was sure Zankou's eyes were going to pop out of his head any second now, and the malicious look Christopher escorted his threat with didn't help to clear the dread off of his face either. Any other day Bianca would have laughed at his comical expression, taking pleasure in how a single sentence managed to transform the ever so confident man into a spineless coward, but there was only one thought that made it through the fog in her brain right now.
She just picked up the very first human-like quality in her new master's gaze since he entered the office… and it was malice.
"I—my Lord?" Zankou shot a helpless look to the Source, and despite her close-to-a-heart-attack state, Bianca now really had a hard time to bite back that chuckle. The demon's rough appearance didn't prevent him from pulling off the lost-child look perfectly, and Bianca found it as amusing as it was disorienting.
The blond haired man let out an annoyed sigh, clearly used to Christopher's problematic attitude by now. His tone suggested that the familiarity didn't make the situation any less infuriating though.
"Just show her the fucking place," He growled at Zankou, and Bianca was actually glad he didn't put up an argument. She was more than just eager to leave the Source's office, even if it meant leaving it with the demon.
After bowing obediently Zankou took a step toward the Phoenix, but just as he was about to grab her shoulder in order to flame out, a second thought seemed to stop him. He jerked his arm back before he could touch her, and he decided to shoot a last, guarded gaze to the Halliwell brothers before addressing Bianca.
"Follow me," was all he offered her before the flames consumed his form, leaving the witch no time to dwell on his strange reaction.
Bianca was tempted to follow him right away, but she knew how much formalities mattered to the Source, so she didn't dare leave without turning to Christopher first, careful not to lift her gaze from the floor.
"It will be a pleasure to serve you, my Lord."
She let her senses pick up on the trails of Zankou's magic, but as determined she was to keep her head down before shimmering out, the sound of the Source's laughter forced her steal a last, curious glance of the siblings.
She regretted her decision of looking up right away, as her vision was instantly greeted with a cold, vindictive pair of green eyes glaring directly at her. The King's laughter blurred into the background, and after a split second all that her senses were able to pick up was the deafening silence the person in front of her seemed to radiate. Bianca's heart skipped a beat and she sucked in a shaky breath between her teeth, but just a moment before she could get a tad too scared to stand still, the scenery around her suddenly changed.
She shimmered out of reflex.
Bianca wished she could say it was an intended, deliberate action, but in truth it was probably the most amateur thing she had done ever since she started her career as an assassin. Shimmering away from danger was a defense mechanism; one that was characteristic only of children and one that she consequently learnt to suppress at an early age. Accidental transportation simply didn't occur with someone whose job was to kill people. She didn't know what powers to thank for the timing of her little slip-up, as her departure didn't seem abrupt in view of the previous—
"That's the place."
Zankou's voice pulled Bianca out of her thoughts, and only then she realized they were out in the open. Gravity suddenly caught back up with her and she felt her lungs being filled with much needed air, making her wonder how long had she gone without inhaling back in the office. As far as she knew, she might have stopped breathing altogether.
"There should be a guest room upstairs," Zankou's voice was hoarse, eyes focused on a two-story building across the deserted street. "Or downstairs… figure it out."
"Aren't you going to show me?"
Wow. Bianca didn't even think about speaking up. Was that even her own voice? It certainly sounded like her…
"There's no way in hell I'm going in there again."
Sure thing. She was supposed to live in a place which not even the right hand man of the Source of all Evil dared to enter. Piece of cake.
"How do I get in?"
Was her body on auto-pilot now? Bianca most certainly didn't have a single coherent thought in her mind right now, and the fact that she managed to squeeze out two fully reasonable questions already amazed her to no end.
"There are no wards on the house. Just use the front door."
The front door? No wards? Was that man crazy?
Who lives in a place with no wards these days? That was like… indirect suicide. One didn't see the sun rise without wards to protect their sleep, not in this world.
"Bianca?"
Zankou was speaking. His voice was suddenly velvety, his brows were furrowed and… did he actually look concerned?
And when did she start laughing again?
"He's going to kill me, isn't he?" she somehow pushed the words past her lips between the bitter, uncontrollable chuckles, not even caring if Zankou thought she completely lost it.
Hell, maybe she did.
"Just… don't bother him much," the demon started unsurely, his expression forming into something that closely resembled pity – something the witch didn't even know he was capable feeling. "He's not like Lord Wyatt. Don't question him…" he paused wincing slightly, probably at a memory Bianca wasn't sure she wanted to know about. "Just follow his orders without hesitation and you'll be fine."
This wasn't real. She was dreaming, surely. She must have been. Why else would she be getting advice on how to survive living with her new master – and from a demon she hated with all her guts at that? Why else would said demon be civil with her instead of molesting her, like he usually did?
"And Bianca," Zankou said before turning his back on her, obviously debating with himself whether to add the next piece of information or not. The woman didn't even bother giving any signs she was listening to what was being said, but the demon apparently decided that hitting on a dead Bianca wouldn't be half as fun as having a breathing one around, and gave his last piece of advice before he left her to her own devices in the survival game held by no other than Christopher Perry Halliwell.
"Don't call him Lord Christopher. Ever."
Bianca didn't even notice when Zankou left. She tried to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths, but the image of those spiteful green eyes was tattooed on the back of her eyelids, ready to drive her insane the moment she lifted her leg a little too high from the ground.
Don't ask questions and don't call him Lord Christopher. How was she supposed to address him if she wasn't even allowed to ask? She couldn't very well call him the silent one, could she now?
She couldn't bring herself to stop laughing. The hate she felt towards the city all of a sudden seemed too funny to stop and think clearly now. But hey, who would want to think clearly when they were about to get wiped out of existence anyway?
Oh, how much Bianca hated this city. She hated it all with a fiery passion.