A.N.: Shock! An update! I know I keep you hanging, but I've had dissertations to write in order to graduate from university. Priorities and all that!
Every time I see Bellamy with her grandfather, I see Dyson from Lost Girl, played by Kris Holden-Reid. Lovely, lovely male! So I envision an older version of Dyson as Bellamy's grandfather. I don't have a visual reference for Bellamy, just that she has my hair when it's having a really good day! And her intended looks like Toby Hemingway, i.e. Reid from The Covenant and Oscar from Feast of Love. Having an obsession with Daniel Gillies, i.e. Elijah Mikaelson from Vampire Diaries, I love his personality for a Balcoin brother.
Having watched the first season of Charmed over the last few days, and memories of Cade and Holly's future child in their Immortals After Dark novel, I like the idea of the blessed child being the ultimate warrior against evil.
Where There's Smoke
Or Impractical Magic
02
Bellamy was waiting tables and collecting empty dishes when she noticed a teeny blonde enter through the Boathouse's front-door, wide-eyed and gazing around and taking in the brand-new surroundings. While she took an order, she oversaw Cassie Blake talking to Mr Conant, who poured himself a drink—across the room, Bellamy caught Adam's eye and he quickly intervened, taking away the glass of whisky from his father and setting Cassie up in a booth.
She put the order in, filled the drinks order and carried milkshakes, coffees and sodas over to various tables with an ice-cream sundae, a warm slice of blueberry pie and on another table, a tray of cheese-fries, and handed one of her generous tippers a lobster-roll he had asked for in a bag to go, before taking out her order-pad and heading over to the booth Adam had sat Cassie in, giving her a glass of water and a menu.
Uh-oh, she thought, catching sight of Melissa and Faye slide into the seat opposite Cassie. She could hear their conversation with Cassie as she refilled coffee-cups; "Adam's a hottie. You should make a play, you're totally his type."
"Stop it, Faye!"
"What? It's true!" Faye said, eyebrows flicking.
"I'm Melissa, nice to meet you," Melissa said, offering her hand to Cassie.
"And I'm Faye Chamberlain."
"Yeah, we met…sort of."
"Now it's official," Faye smirked.
"Hi," Bellamy said, approaching the table with her order-pad.
"Cassie, you've met Bellamy before," Faye smiled charmingly.
"Yeah, we met yesterday," Cassie said, smiling shyly.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Actually, I haven't really looked at the menu yet," Cassie admitted.
"I'll give you a few minutes. Do you want any drinks?" Bellamy asked.
"We're good," Faye sniffed, but Bellamy ignored her, gazing at Cassie.
"No, I'm good, thanks," she smiled.
"'Kay," Bellamy nodded, and went to claim the coffee jug to refill cups and take down dessert orders. It wasn't in her nature to put herself forward and be the bold, precocious extrovert like Faye, who would, as she had just demonstrated, invite herself to sit with whoever she wanted, talked a big game and intimidated a lot of people… Bellamy sometimes wished she was at least a fraction as fearless as Faye Chamberlain; people may be intimidated by her, annoyed by her bitchiness, but if she was bold without the attitude, Faye could have had a lot more friends, and for a girl like Bellamy, very shy, who found it difficult to make friends, Faye's boldness was enviable.
Unfortunately, Faye's boldness was combined with a brash, outspoken personality and most of the time she ruffled too many feathers—as evidenced when Cassie got up from her booth and made her way out of the Boathouse.
"What was that about?" Bellamy asked, as she sidled up to Faye and Melissa, standing at the window watching the parking-lot outside the Boathouse.
"Faye was being her charming self, as usual," Melissa sighed. "I don't think she knows, do you?"
"I think she needs a nudge," Faye answered sweetly, gazing at the small green SUV Cassie climbed into.
"Faye…" Bellamy sighed.
"What?"
"This is exactly what gets Diana on her soapbox," Bellamy sighed, but she watched, her tray under her arm, head canted to one side as she stood beside Melissa, watching for what Faye was about to do. Where Faye was concerned there was very little grey area; she was all or nothing, and that extended to her magic.
As Bellamy watched, frowning, she thought she saw smoke rising from the front of Cassie's SUV—"Faye."—then flames spurted from under the hood—"Faye."
"Just a little more," Faye said, squinting her eyes subtle at the car; inside it, Bellamy could see that Cassie was thrashing, her little palm pattering against the window. As the flames erupted, disguising the front of the car, Bellamy abandoned her tray with a clatter and focused her energy on the flames, No air for fire… She wasn't alone rushing toward Cassie's car as Faye murmured, "Come on, Cassie, put it out…"
"Bellamy—" Adam's voice.
"I know," she said, hurrying down the steps, still focused on the fire, and as Adam threw himself at the driver's-side door, tugging on the handle that wouldn't unlock, Bellamy hung back, away from the danger of the flames, focusing on the fire to put it out while Adam unlocked the door, lifting Cassie out of her seat as she coughed and spluttered.
"C'mon! Come here!" Adam grunted, lifting Cassie bodily away from the car. "Are you okay? Are you alright?"
"What happened?" Mr Conant appeared, white as a sheet, but as he glimpsed Cassie in Adam's arms, his eyes seemed to glow and his features softened.
"Cassie's car…it went up in flames. I'll call 9-1-1," Bellamy said, and Mr Conant nodded as Bellamy strode back into the Boathouse, scowling at Faye, who didn't look as contrite as she should for almost torching Cassie alive. Melissa looked uncomfortable, always the one to second-guess Faye's behaviour but never put her in her place for it. Bellamy reached for the phone on its cradle by the door to the kitchen and dialled 9-1-1, watching Faye and Melissa strut out of the Boathouse.
"There was a car-fire outside the Boathouse," she said to the emergency-dispatch person. "The fire's out but there was a girl in the car; she might've inhaled some of the smoke." When she had confirmation that an ambulance was on its way with a fire-truck, she hung up, and while she waited tables abandoned by patrons wanting to watch the action, she collected cheques, refilled coffee-cups and brought out plates of pie and desserts, putting tips into the jar on the counter. Mr Conant was very fair with his wages, and probably more generous than he should be, and tips were divided between employees during each shift, dependent on whether they had arrived on time for their shift, were polite to customers—if they were late, they were docked a few dollars from their share of the tip pool, instead of their wages. And, when her shift ended, Bellamy collected her share of the tips with a beaming smile.
Her set wages, she deposited into a savings account, either for college tuition or part of a deposit for her first house; her tips she kept as pocket-money, which usually went on records from the vinyl shop, pizza at the arcade, movie-tickets or trips to the occult store hidden in a backstreet downtown. Bellamy wasn't acquisitive or overtly girly; so when she bought clothes it was out of necessity with the changing seasons and she preferred quality over fashionableness. Diana had asked her to go shopping a few times; the Wetzel's Pretzel had made it worthwhile, and admittedly she had come away with two new tops, a pair of earrings and a bottle of nail-polish, but devoting an entire day to wandering around the mall was close to Bellamy's idea of purgatory.
And heaven? That was bundling up in Nick's bed with blankets, his television playing a DVD while they ate a Thai feast and contemplated doing homework while procrastinating with sketchbooks or, in Nick's case, a bong, occasionally talking to his older-brother whenever he deigned to phone home. Ever since they were little, movies with dinner had been a treat; whenever Nick's aunt had babysat Bellamy while her grandfather was out of town lecturing, the boys had enjoyed being able to have different kinds of food and watch movies. Whenever the Armstrong boys spent the weekend with Piney Sade and Bellamy, they enjoyed having a father-figure in their lives, to teach them how to fish, play hockey, catch a baseball, to camp out in the backyard, and the biggest treat for them when they came to stay with Bellamy and her grandfather had always been the steak dinners they had, with homemade fries.
Bellamy had a sudden urge for steak as she sat eating her Thai green curry, and, thinking about the dinner-party her grandfather had orchestrated with the Blakes for Friday-night, she wondered if steak would be more welcome than lasagne. With Cassie's tiny physique, Bellamy wondered whether she was some nitpicky vegan or followed a stringent no-carbohydrates diet.
She'd be screwed; Bellamy and her grandfather believed in enjoying all things in moderation. They ate smaller portions and so could afford to try everything and savour it, not feel guilty.
"Did anyone tell you?" Bellamy said, smiling as she took half of the last duck-roll Nick offered her. "Faye tried to kill Cassie this afternoon."
"Yeah, I heard that," Nick sighed. "Made her car go up in flames."
"Faye has no restraint whatsoever," Bellamy sighed, leaning back against the pillows, crunching on the delicious, piping-hot duck-roll. "It's gonna make it easy for Diana to convince everyone to bind the Circle. You know, between you and Faye, I'd put money on Faye going away for involuntary manslaughter."
"Thanks," Nick smirked, and Bellamy smiled. "Was Cassie okay?"
"Well, Adam leapt right in there, sweeping her out of the burning car," Bellamy smirked. "Like Batman."
"You reckon what his dad rambles about is true?" Nick wondered, glancing thoughtfully from the television-screen to Bellamy.
"All that written-in-the-stars stuff? Maybe."
"I didn't think you believed in horoscopes."
"I didn't. And then I found out I'm a witch…who knows what's real," Bellamy sighed. "I know I won't be reading my future in Cosmo Girl though… I wonder if my grandpa has any books on true astrological magic."
"Diana's Book says witches can use astrological events to channel greater energy," Nick mused. "The moon, meteor showers…"
"There must be something in Grandpa's books," Bellamy mused. "I'd like to learn to read the stars."
"Divination," Nick smirked. "Seriously?"
"Why not?" Bellamy shrugged. "Remember that old telescope we used to use when we'd camp out in the backyard." Nick smiled.
"Yeah, I remember," he said softly.
"We haven't done that in ages," Bellamy sighed.
"Not since before Jake left," Nick said, and his face fell. Talk of his brother always got to him; despite the fact they had done little but fight when Jake had still lived at home, Nick missed his older-brother. Because he was the only thing left that Nick had of his parents. And, sometimes, Jake had been the older-brother Nick had always wanted, the one who got him drunk, taught him about girls, gave him his first joint, helped him get to the next level on Halo.
"Have you heard from him lately?" Bellamy asked.
"Talked to him a few days ago, he said he was in Massachusetts," Nick sighed.
"Is he coming home for Thanksgiving this year?"
"Nope," Nick said unconcernedly. "Just like he didn't last year."
"That's too bad," Bellamy sighed. With their fractured families, it had become tradition for the Armstrongs and the Sades to spend Thanksgiving together, with the addition of Jane Blake. Last year, Jake had been long gone before Thanksgiving; and he had left after stealing from Mr Conant at the Boathouse, where he had been lucky enough to get a job.
Everyone knew the Armstrong boys were messed up; losing their parents so young, living with their "Jesus-freak" aunt, as Nick called her…they didn't have a family, and it had worn on Jake more so than Nick as they grew up. But in the last eighteen months, Jake had started calling home a little more often than was normal. He talked to Nick, even to Bellamy if she was at the Armstrong house when he called; he was travelling a lot, working from place to place picking up menial jobs at diners. And he sent money back to Mr Conant with every pay-cheque. Bellamy just hoped that, wherever Jake was, he wasn't getting himself into trouble, because he'd made a habit of doing that in Chance Harbour, where there was never much danger of…well, danger. It was a small harbour town, not really any such thing as a 'bad part of town', so when Jake had gotten into trouble before it had always been fights with football-players, messing around with some other idiot's girlfriend, smoking and drinking under the bleachers at school.
Nick guessed that if he'd figured out he was a witch, Jake would be okay: Bellamy remembered Jake as a tall, well-built guy who could probably take care of himself in a physical altercation; throw magic into the mix and he'd be fine. Still, it didn't bode well for him that screwed-up Jake was out there alone.
If he got into trouble, the chances were he'd really end up in trouble. Jake had been an angry, messed-up, volatile guy. But perhaps someone had caught him and read him the riot act, straightening him out. He sounded different, the last time Bellamy had spoken to him. He'd seemed…concerned about Nick, how he was doing at school, whether he was doing drugs, if he had a girlfriend. That wasn't the Jake that Bellamy remembered. Jake was Jake because he didn't care.
He'd lost the two people he'd loved most in the world, and instead of solidifying a bond with the only other person he had left, Nick, all Jake had ever done was fight with his little brother, push him away. Their shared tragedy hadn't made them inseparable, as Bellamy believed their parents would probably have wanted.
Bellamy would have given anything to have a bond with her brother.
"Have you thought any more about binding the Circle?" Nick asked, and Bellamy glanced up from her composition-notebook, where she was attempting a summary for her chemistry reading.
"What about it?"
"All that stuff you were wondering about, Cassie's mother taking her away from town," Nick said, frowning thoughtfully. "Does seem weird she'd keep her daughter from Chance Harbour."
"Well, Diana's using the not-binding-the-Circle-killed-our-parents angle," Bellamy sighed. "So she's already got the best argument for binding the Circle. I just don't think it's that cut-and-dry."
"How come?"
"There'd be some annotation in the Books," Bellamy shrugged. "Diana's father must have known where the Book was, he probably hid it in that trunk full of her mother's old things. If the fire was as simple as our parents not binding their Circle and their magic going out of control…wouldn't he have written a warning?"
"Maybe Diana's mom hid her Book of Shadows before she died," Nick shrugged. "Your Book says all families jealously guard their Book of Shadows. Everyone else's parents hadn't been married for very long when they died."
"Months, barely," Bellamy sighed. Her own parents had been married nearly ten years when they died; Nick's parents, Richard and Sara, had been married nearly seven. Jack, Bellamy's father, had been best-man at Richard and Sara's wedding; three years earlier, Richard had been Jack's best-man. But the rest of the Circle had gotten pregnant their senior year of high-school; Bellamy had helped Diana search out all of the announcements in the local newspaper seventeen years ago. There had been photographs with a few of the wedding announcements; most of the girls had been noticeably pregnant in them.
Married and pregnant at eighteen. Bellamy was fast approaching her landmark birthday and didn't particularly wish to join the hundreds of thousands of girls who got pregnant in high-school.
"Anyway, I don't…like making assumptions," Bellamy sighed. "Not about this, not about our magic. We don't know enough to presume that things with our parents were that simple. Even if it was magic that got out of control that started the fire, the combined magic of all of our parents would've been more than enough to put it out."
"You think something else was going on?"
"It would explain why nobody will talk about the ferry fire," Bellamy sighed. "Not even my grandpa. And we tell each other everything." Nick sighed, fiddling with a pen before frowning, reaching under his bed for a battered shoebox he hid part of his stash in, and rolling himself a joint.
"You don't reckon we should bind the Circle?" he repeated. All they could think about recently, since the news of Cassie Blake's imminent arrival to Chance Harbour, was that their Circle would be complete. And Diana's hypothesis that their parents had died due to their parents not binding their Circle had her adamant they not make the same mistake. But it was a hypothesis, based on limited information, a lot of guesswork, and no other answers or excuses.
"I think we'd be stupid to jump into something we don't understand," she sighed. "We should work on figuring out what actually happened on that ferry before we do anything. If Diana's so keen to not let our Circle repeat the same mistakes she thinks our parents made with their Circle, we should focus on finding out the truth before we dive into anything. And that includes binding the Circle—especially since Amelia Blake knew taking her daughter out of Chance Harbour would stop any chance we'd have of completing it."
"Mm, but what Diana Meade wants…"
"Adam Conant makes sure she gets," Bellamy sighed, and then she yawned, suddenly tired. Nick smirked, as she drew out her sketchbook and the polished wood case of high-quality colour pencils from her backpack.
"Well, Faye's decided she doesn't want to be bound to the rest of us—"
"Understandable. Forced to hold herself accountable to others is basically Faye Chamberlain's idea of hell."
"—and Melissa always does what Faye says."
"I don't know. Melissa has a conscience where Faye doesn't. Diana might be able to use Cassie's car going up in flames to convince her that our magic is too dangerous, too volatile to leave un-tempered."
"You use a lot of big words," Nick sighed.
"Crosswords," Bellamy shrugged, giving Nick a smirk as she spread languorously on her side across his bed, accepting the lit joint from him after he'd inhaled.
"You know that binding the Circle would mean we'd have more control over our magic—Faye wouldn't be able to do whatever the hell she wants with her magic," Nick said, lying on his back and frowning thoughtfully. "The smart move would be to bind it, but I think you're right. We don't know that not binding it is what killed our parents. And we can't ignore that Amelia Blake left town with her daughter, knowing we'd never be able to bind the Circle without her."
"How do we figure out what happened sixteen years ago?" Bellamy sighed, idly passing Nick the joint between her fingers. Nick sighed softly.
"Look through our parents' stuff…" he said quietly. "There must be clues."
"Do you think your aunt kept any of your parents' things?" Bellamy asked shyly. Nick sighed.
"Doubt it," he muttered. "What about you? Did your grandpa keep any of your parents' things?"
"Are you kidding?" Bellamy sighed, already feeling weary at the prospect of going through her parents' belongings. "He's kept everything."
"A few brownies, a bottle of Jack, might be fun to go digging through the past," Nick smiled warmly.
"Check out the awful early-Nineties haircuts?" Bellamy smiled. "Hey, we might find some more photos of your parents!" Nick glanced at her, hope and interest illuminating his eyes. Nick and Jake had only ever had one photograph of their parents; in it, Sara Armstrong had been tossing fall foliage at a toddler Jake, Nick, swaddled in a blue blanket, had been cradled in his father's arms.
"When's your grandpa going out of town again?" Nick asked.
"A few weeks' time," Bellamy sighed.
"Wanna raid your attic while he's away?" Nick smiled. "I could stay over, so you're not alone." When he wanted to be, when nobody but Bellamy was there to witness it, Nick could be a sweetheart. Beneath the abrasive, uncaring exterior there was a real heart that set Nick apart from his angry older-brother; Nick cared.
"Okay," Bellamy smiled. "Shall I buy some plain pizza bases?"
"Definitely," Nick smiled, passing her the joint. Whenever her grandfather went out of town to lecture at colleges across the United States, even Europe, Nick usually invited himself over to Bellamy's place to make sure she wasn't home-alone, just in case anything happened. And, whenever Nick stayed over, they did experimental recipes; Bellamy made a log of all their culinary creations and they had a lot of fun in the kitchen. Creating their own pizzas was something that had carried over from their childhood when Grandpa used to get out everything they had in the refrigerator and pantry, cook up a fresh tomato sauce, and they'd put their own little pizzas together. It would be fun.
As Bellamy made her way home later that evening, dark having fallen hours before, she reflected on a lot of things, particularly her childhood with Nick and Jake Armstrong; making those disgusting little decorate-your-own pizzas; her sometimes ill-fated cooking sessions with Nick; Jake letting her watch The Mighty Ducks on VHS every time she visited the Armstrong house because she didn't have it home; swimming-lessons with Nick and playing on the same Little League baseball-teams, coached by her grandpa.
Everything had been so much easier before Diana had dropped the bomb about them being witches. Bellamy would prefer not to be a witch; high-school was difficult enough without the added pressure of being a social-outcast by heritage.
She had been perfectly happy—if that was the correct phrase… She had been content to know that her parents had died together in a fire when she was a year old. She had her grandpa, the best parent she could ever ask for; and she had Nick, as close to her as a brother.
She hadn't needed the extra torment of knowing her parents had been witches, that their magic may or may not have had something to do with their deaths, and that because of their shared heritage Bellamy could also be in danger of sharing their fate.
After spending her childhood absolutely adoring Harry Potter, Bellamy had found herself wishing she was a squib.
Bellamy's life as a witch was not exactly…magical. There was no Hogwarts, no secret world hidden behind a shabby brick wall, no beautiful scarlet steam-trains. Just Geometry homework, studying for a Chemistry test, picking up her shift at the Boathouse, and buying groceries to stock the house while her grandpa was gone delivering a lecture at Duke or Tulane or somewhere. She wasn't the only one who believed witchcraft was something sparkly that belonged in Harry Potter books or Stardust movies; Melissa liked playing with her magic, usually encouraged by Faye, but she had watched Practical Magic and Hocus Pocus too many times growing up, and the reality of their lives as witches fell somewhat short of their imagination.
The only one who truly revelled in their heritage was Faye. That girl had more enthusiasm and conviction than Bellamy had ever met, and she enjoyed her magic to the limits of her own creativity, using it for mostly selfish gains, but she enjoyed herself, throwing herself into Diana's Book of Shadows whenever she could get her hands on it. And that wasn't often.
Bellamy kept her mother's Book of Shadows secret because she didn't want to encourage the others. Diana kept her Book to herself because it meant she had control of the Circle, the only one with any source of magical knowledge. Which meant Diana decided when they did things, what spells they tried out, whether they were allowed to practice at all…when they should tell Cassie Blake about the nature of her family's legacy.
Working another shift at the Boathouse during a rainy, grim afternoon Bellamy tugged her cell-phone out of the pocket of her apron. Usually she didn't take her cell out of her little black backpack in the office downstairs, but Diana had insisted they all keep their phones on them, and on, at all times, just in case one of the Circle needed them. Meaning her.
For a bunch of kids who'd never had anything in common besides dead parents, it was strange that Bellamy now had Faye Chamberlain's phone-number plugged into her contact-list alongside Diana Meade's. They were two of the girls Bellamy had never believed she would ever be friends with. And she knew, due to her outspokenness, that Faye had exactly the same thoughts about having Bellamy's number in her contact-list.
The fact that before Diana had brought the Circle together, Bellamy's contact-list had comprised her grandfather's cell, Jane Blake's home and work numbers, Nick's cell and his aunt's home-number, didn't elude Faye Chamberlain, who, despite her beauty, had as much an insular social-life with Melissa as Bellamy did with Nick. Faye Chamberlain rejected interaction with her peers; Bellamy struggled to stake a claim on being part of the junior-class.
So the text from Diana, quickly followed by one from Faye, surprised her. Usually she got a call from Diana telling her they all wanted to practice at the abandoned house, and could she bring salsa.
She tugged her phone out; it was a very old black-and-red Motorola EM325, and had once belonged to Jake Armstrong. Bellamy had taken better care of it the last three years than Jake had in the two months he'd kept it before discarding it to Bellamy in favour of a sleek silver flip-phone.
The first text, from Diana; Telling Cassie. Meet house. Now.
Faye's text; Control-freak D dropped the bomb on Cas B. D's gonna try and convince C to bind the Circle!
Putting on another pot of coffee, Bellamy quickly texted back; Working my shift at the BH, it's the dinner-rush. Won't leave. Think ur rushing this, D. Faye, don't do anything stupid.
She sent the text to both girls, killing two birds with one stone, and slid her phone back into her apron pocket, taking out her order-pad to serve the customers who'd just sat down at a freshly-cleaned booth.
We need the whole Circle there! Diana's reply came as she was filling drinks orders.
Tough. Adam's not here, Mr C needs the help.
She ignored all further texts, run off her feet to fill dinner orders, serving up milkshakes, lobster-platters, fried cod and the Boathouse's famous chowder, slices of warmed pie and refilling coffees, passing drinks orders to the bartender because she wasn't old enough to serve alcohol.
A.N.: A shorter chapter, but a chapter nonetheless! I think writing that Bellamy wished she was a 'squib' summarises her feelings over the whole Circle/witchcraft topic!