Disclaimer: I only own the ones you've never heard of before.
Author's note: This is going to be my very first attempt at a rated M story. As such, I feel the need to warn people later chapters will contain graphic descriptions of violence and sexual activity, some of which may be under duress or at least dubious consent.
Chapter 1
2004
The cavern was lit with only a few flickering flames set in medieval brass fixtures. Shifting shadows added to the thickly ominous atmosphere as each glimpse of light reflected on a new horror. Wall mounted rings and suspension bars, dungeon irons, handcuffs and chains. A table with leather straps in the corner with telling ruddy stains running down its length. A second table covered in blood soaked knives and vials filled with dark solutions, which filled the air with the pungent smell of vinegar and rotten eggs. In stark contrast to the implements of torture, a four poster bed stood out from the wall on the far side with the finest satin sheets in pristine white. Anyone familiar with this particular demon knew the bed was actually the most dangerous item in the lair.
No one came to this part of the underworld. Not in centuries. Not without permission. Not unless they planned on never returning to their home again. Not unless they were desperate.
Chris Perry eyed the demoness warily from his position at the entrance of her lair. He'd only ever heard rumors of her existence, thinking the stories more myth than fact. After all, if they were true, she was the oldest demon in existence. Mother to half the upper echelon of the underworld. Except no one could describe her. No one could say what exactly her powers included. Merely uttering her name had sent quivers of fear down the spines of his demonic contacts. The Source himself didn't command as much respect, fear and awe, and if he were smart, Chris would have orbed out of there as soon as he discovered she was real.
Only he didn't flee. He stood stone still waiting for her to make the first move because he needed her. Needed to see what she knew. What she might be able to find out. Having been in the past for months now without coming any closer to finding the answer he needed to save the future - save his family - he was willing to turn over even the most dangerous stones.
The demoness was sprawled leisurely on her side across the bed. Her violet eyes raked over him with deliberate intent. Up and down. Up and down. After an uncomfortably long, silent scrutiny, the corner of her mouth curled up, and she flicked her fiery red hair over her shoulder as a soft moan of approval hummed in her throat. In a voice innately silky and seductive, she finally commented, "You have my attention."
"I came to make a trade."
In one fluid motion, she sat up and rose from the bed. As she slowly sauntered toward him, deep scarlet wings extended out from her back matching the curled horns protruding from her forehead. She came to a stop in front of him, close enough he could smell the sweet fruity scent of her, almost feel the intense heat she radiated through his shirt. She reached a taloned hand up to his face, running the back of her nail from his temple to his jaw.
Chris flinched away from her touch. Edging her a sharp look, he said flatly, "I said a trade."
The demoness' violet eyes sparkled with amusement. "You think I can't just take what I want, Young One?"
"Not from me," he replied coolly.
She fixed him with a firm stare. Seeing what he knew she would in his eyes, her expression hardened, and she took a step back, wings folding in obvious disappointment. In a more natural tone she commented, "So damaged for one so very young and virile."
"I'm aware." He folded his arms. "Do you want to hear my proposition or not?"
"Perhaps," she commented. She floated back to him, getting intimately close again. Going up on her toes she brushed her nose against the side of his head into his hair, breathing deeply. Coming back down on the balls of her feet, she breathed in his ear, "You smell divine."
Fighting not to shiver either at the warm air brushing against his skin or how unnerved he felt by her proximity, Chris regarded her carefully. "I know what you are, Lamia. What you need. If you can tell me about the threat against The Charmed One's baby, I'm willing to give it to you."
Violet eyes lit with intrigue. "I find your information, and you give me what I most desire?"
Ignoring the rising nausea swirling in his stomach, he nodded. "Yes."
The horned head tilted slightly as she studied him, weighing his offer. Several tense minutes passed with her eyes boring intensely into his before a small, pleased smile formed on her beautiful face. She announced, "Deal."
It wasn't the first time Chris Perry had made a deal with a demon. It was; however, the first time he was actually worried he might not be able to maneuver his way back out of it. If he didn't tread carefully, Lamia could quickly become a bigger problem than she was worth. Only time would tell if the reward was worth the risk.
Changed Future 2027
Slamming his office door shut behind him, Chris Halliwell jerked off his Magic School robe, flinging it across the brown loveseat resting against the wall to his right. He stormed across the small space to his desk, sinking into the leather chair behind it. Then, he dropped his head into his hands and released a frustrated groan.
It had been such a long day. Three advanced magic classes, one advanced potion course and a meeting of the planning committee for The Winter Solstice Dance wherein he was forced to discuss themes and budgets and dress codes. It was also during the meeting he had a particularly unwanted run in with someone he'd been very much trying to avoid. Someone who was likely going to show up here any second.
As if on cue, the door opened and a loud, regretful breath preceded the soft click of it being gently closed again. After a minute, an exasperated voice said, "Chris, this is ridiculous. We need to talk."
"No," Chris started, raising his head to glare at the other man. "We really don't, Dad. I thought I made that abundantly clear."
Leo Wyatt's face fell, blue eyes shining. "Please, at least let us explain. Hear our side of the story then if you still want to cut us out of your life . . ." He couldn't finish the thought, so the words wound up a sad broken smile with a helpless shrug. "Well, honestly, we won't let you, so you might as well accept that now. You're our son. We're never giving up on you."
"No, you'll just lie to me my whole life," the son spat. He bitterly shook his head. "I mean, do you have any idea what this feels like for me? Everything I thought I knew about who I was and where I fit in the world has changed. Did anyone actually ever see me, or was I just a handy replacement?"
"Chris, no," Leo firmly argued. "You grew up surrounded by a family who loves you. Who would do anything for you. Just because your mother and I made what you see as a bad decision doesn't negate a lifetime of happy memories."
"Were you ever planning on warning me?" Chris wondered, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "Or were you so arrogant with your former-Elder-know-how that you presumed to know all the possible consequences for me?"
The father folded his arms now, setting his mouth in a disapproving line. He shook his head. "It wasn't like that, Chris, and you know it. Your mother and her sisters, me, we all did a lot of research. We checked with every powerful source of magic there is to be sure you would be safe."
"Considering I ended up with a gaping hole in my gut on my birthday, I'd say they were wrong wouldn't you?" Chris challenged. When his father visibly winced, the son's anger abated, and he let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I know how scared you were - the memories it brought up. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay. I understand you feel betrayed," Leo said. "We kept a very big secret from you boys, and unfortunately, it came back to hurt you both. Especially you, Chris, and your mom and I are so, so sorry. We just want to know what can we do to make it right?"
"I told you before I needed some space, Dad," Chris answered. "Just some time to wrap my head around everything."
"You haven't been to the manor in months," Leo said. "Haven't said more than a few words to your mother or aunts. It's killing them not to see you. Hear from you. Phoebe keeps writing advice columns about relationships with nephews, and Paige has thrown herself into her charges to distract herself, and your mom-"
"Don't," Chris cut-in. "Stop trying to make me feel guilty. They caused this. All of them lied over and over, and it nearly got me killed. Plus, my whole life now seems like it was full of fake smiles, assumptions and guilt. It's going to take some time for me to get over the fact my family was seeing someone else when they looked at me."
Sounding desperate, the father wondered, "How much more time?"
The young man shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know."
"I'm not giving up on us, Chris," Leo swore. "I never have. I never will. I love you, Son."
Chris turned his head away, staying silent. Only after he heard the door swish and click closed did he look back over to where his father had been standing. Staring at the empty space, he swallowed thickly, overcome by the weight of the complicated emotions he'd been struggling with for months. Needing to see someone who could understand, Chris orbed.
The brilliant blue and white lights swirled through the ceiling of Magic School, reappearing in a small apartment in downtown San Francisco in front of a tall, muscular man whose hair shifted between light brown and blonde depending on how the light struck it. The man had incredibly warm, compassionate brown eyes in the middle of a strong, chiseled face. His features lit into a smile as he saw who was coalescing from the orbs. "Hi. You're home early."
Chris let out a breath, greeting, "Hey, Wyatt."
At the tone of his brother's voice, Wyatt Halliwell's face fell to sympathy. "Bad day, Kit?"
"Dad cornered me."
"Ah, I see," Wyatt responded, gesturing to the sofa and taking a seat next to Chris after the younger man had sat down. He tilted his head, observing his sibling for a moment before venturing, "I understand why you're mad. I really do. I wasn't exactly thrilled when I found out either, but they love us. They're not going to stop trying. Besides, don't you think you're being a tad hard on them?"
Green eyes glared heatedly. "Are you seriously defending them after everything you and I went through this last year?"
The older brother raised his hands in surrender. "No. Definitely not. Your issues with our parents and aunts is between you guys. I hashed out my problems with them, and I hope someday you will too, but that's for you to decide."
"It's not the same for you," Chris muttered. "You're not filling the void left by a ghost."
Wyatt fixed him with a firm stare. "Neither are you."
The younger man stared miserably down at his feet not responding.
Deciding drastic measures were in order to cheer up his brother, Wyatt said, "Listen, with all the craziness leading up to your birthday, and then the whole you almost dying on your birthday, followed by the Halliwell Cold War, we never really got a chance to celebrate. How about we temporarily forget about alternate timelines and everything else related to magic and go out tonight? My treat."
Chris lifted his head to look at his brother. "Seriously?"
"Absolutely," Wyatt confirmed. "It's been way too long since we Halliwell Boys had a night off don't you think? No demons. No magic. No burdens of other lives. Just strong drinks, good music and if we're lucky, interesting women."
A smile slowly spread on Chris' face, and he nodded. "Yeah, okay. You know what, I think that may be just what I need right now. Thanks."
Wyatt put a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling. "Hey, that's what being the older brother is all about. Now, let's go find some fun."
Several hours later . . .
Purposefully avoiding P3 to make sure they didn't run into any of the many various members of their family, the brothers had decided to hit a popular salsa club called El Diablo on the south end of the city. Upbeat music blared wall to wall, red and purple lights cast a sexy glow over the black couches in the seating area and the hardwood floors stretching and shining across the dance space. People slid and ground against one another with fevered passion in all corners.
Dressed in black slacks and a deep purple dress shirt, Chris was lounging on one of the sofas in the corner bobbing his head in time to the catchy song playing. He took another drink of his Michelada, smiling in amusement as he watched his brother on the dance floor.
Wyatt, dressed in white slacks and an orange dress shirt, was currently trying to keep up with a rather saucy latina who was dancing circles around him. Not that it took much. Twice Blessed and most powerful witch ever to exist though he may be, Wyatt Halliwell had zero rhythm. For Chris, watching his brother step on the poor woman's foot again while awkwardly moving out of sync with the beat was worth the price of admission.
As the song ended, Wyatt parted from his partner and returned to take a seat next to Chris, flopping down next to him. When Chris handed him the margarita he'd been holding for him, the older brother took a drink before asking over the music, "I really can't dance, can I?"
"Not even a little, Man," Chris laughed.
"Company makes it worth the embarrassment," Wyatt returned with a smile, gesturing with his eyes over to the woman he'd been dancing with. "Her name is Lucy. I got her number."
"Well done."
The Twice Blessed gave him a pointed look. "Come on, Kit. You can't just sit here drinking all night. Dance. Flirt. Live a little. I'm worried about you. I don't even remember the last time you had a date needless to say brought someone back to the apartment."
Chris took a long drink, finishing it off to spite his sibling. When Wyatt kept fixing him with the same brotherly stare of concern, he rolled his eyes. "I'm not interested in dating, and getting laid is not going to solve my problems."
"Is this about Bianca?" Wyatt ventured. "Is that why you haven't so much as looked at a woman in nearly a year?"
The younger man dropped his gaze to his now empty glass, setting his jaw.
"Chris, you don't even know her," his brother went on. "Fragmented dreams, distorted images and voices . . . it's not real. It's also not healthy. You're not him any more than I'm a psychotic mass murderer. I thought we decided we'd live our lives our way and leave our alter egos to their timeline where they belong."
"I also thought we weren't talking about it tonight," Chris angrily returned. He sharply stood muttering, "I'm getting another drink."
Leaving Wyatt looking worried on the sofa behind him, Chris started weaving his way through the crowd toward the bar. Distracted by thoughts of a woman he didn't remember, had never met, and likely never would, Chris wound up walking straight into another patron. The impact pulled him back to the moment, and full of guilt over his clumsiness, he immediately turned to look at the person he'd bumped into in order to make sure they were okay.
What he found was one of the most startlingly beautiful women he'd ever seen. Tall with a toned, voluptuous figure, the woman had long flowing red hair accenting high cheekbones and delicate features. Her eyes were a hypnotizing violet hue and her lips were full in an enticing pink.
"I am so sorry," Chris told her. "Are you okay?"
The man who had been on her arm, a tall burly fellow with dark hair and eyes, scowled down at him. "No thanks to you." The man crowded Chris, purposefully towering over him as an intimidation tactic. He pulled at his white shirt revealing a telling brown stain. "Look what you made me do."
At the same time a silky voice breathed, "You."
"Sorry, it was an accident," Chris addressed the other man, not the least affected by the stranger's bulk. Compared to the demons he fought on a weekly basis, the guy was nothing. "If it's that big of a deal to you, I'll pay to have it cleaned or give you money for a replacement."
The woman glanced over to her companion, locking eyes on him. "That won't be necessary."
"That won't be necessary," the man intoned.
Chris frowned. "You sure? You seemed pretty upset a second ago."
"He's sure," the woman answered, eyes still locked on the other man. She gestured dismissively at him. "Go away. I'm done with you now."
As the big man obeyed the woman's order with nary a peep of protest, disappearing back into the crowd, Chris watched him go with raised brows. As aggressive as the guy had come off at first, it was surprising he would be so docile and subordinate with his girlfriend. Something about the situation niggled the back of the witch's mind, but he couldn't quite piece anything concrete together.
"It's been a long time," the woman commented, eyeing him from head to toe and back again. "You may be even more delectable than I remember."
Before Chris could even furrow his brows in confusion at the comment, the woman pressed herself up against him, her hands squeezing his shoulders. Her touch felt fevered through his shirt, and for some reason, it sent a jolt of heady attraction through him. Vaguely he noted a fruity scent suddenly in the air, which he instinctively breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as it made his mind grow fuzzy.
Voice rich with seductive undertones, she whispered in his ear, "You're not getting away this time, Young One."
The woman formed a tiny circle with her perfect pink lips, blowing gently. A red mist subtly escaped her mouth floating into Chris' face. The young man flashed red for only a second before returning to normal. Seeing the effect she wanted, the woman smiled in satisfaction, took a step back, and vanished into the sea of dancers.
"Chris? Chris?"
Chris blinked at the sound of his name. He found his brother looking down at him in concern. "Wyatt?"
"You've been gone a while, so I came to see what was taking so long," Wyatt told him, sounding worried. "Then I find you, and you are completely zoned out. I've been saying your name at least five minutes now. What happened?"
Trying to recall what he'd been doing or thinking, the younger brother found he couldn't. The last thing he remembered was getting up to get a refill on his drink, only based on his still empty glass, he never made it to the bar. He frowned. "I'm not sure."
Wyatt's face grew serious. "Do you think it may be related to our family's usual penchant for trouble?"
Code for demon. Chris rolled his eyes. "You know I haven't been sleeping well for months now. I probably just spaced out from exhaustion mixed with alcohol. Don't worry so much, Wy."
"I don't like the sound of that either," the older brother remarked. "Especially not considering the type of unsavory individuals we tend to run into on a daily basis. Maybe we should call it a night. Get home, so you can try to rest."
Fighting demons the way he felt right now would not be fun. Something just felt . . . off. In light of the strange feeling, Chris nodded agreement, gesturing vaguely for his brother to lead the way out. As Wyatt made a path through the crowd, Chris started to follow only to pause and look back over his shoulder. He would have sworn he felt someone watching him. When he didn't see anyone, he shook his head at his paranoia and continued after his brother.
He had no idea a pair of cunning violet eyes was indeed following his every move.
TBC . . .