Cole to the Infinite Power

Chapter 9: The Many Faces Of Love...

By: Alchemystik

It was quite late when I returned from the party at P3. Phoebe and I had danced, closely with eyes for no one else but each other. We had drank little, yet I felt light headed and at peace. The entire world seemed to have a gentle glow about it, and if I hadn't been wearing that absurd costume, I would have loved to have walked in the cool night air. With her by my side.

But reality reared it's ugly head as soon as I entered my condo. I had just stripped off my costume and was clad in nothing more than a pair of trousers when I felt as if steel clamps were placed around my legs, and I was dragged downward.

Down to the Underworld, to stand in the circle in the Chamber of the Triad...

Vornac was there, sporting a slight smile, but Raynor's craggy old face looked like a thunderhead.

" Explain yourself! " His voiced rumbled, but before I could say a word, he summarily dismissed Vornac.

I dropped to my knees, figuring that a little respect might save me from his righteous anger, but he motioned me back onto my feet.

" Stand up! I will not be mocked by your feigned humility! "

I got to my feet and for the first time felt fear. I had done the unthinkable; I had let my humanity override my good sense.

" Master, I..."

" Silence! " Raynor thundered. " I have just spent more hours than I care to count talking our Lord out of destroying you! Did you really think we would not discover your treachery?! "

I stood there mutely, and then Raynor did an extraordinary thing. He raised a finger to his lips and then pointed upwards. I couldn't see anything particular when I looked up; just the same smoke-blackened rocks I remembered from before. He beckoned me to his side, and before I knew it, we had shimmered back to my home.

Raynor stumped over to " his chair " and grunted as he sat down. I hastened to place a footstool in front of him and he gratefully put his lame leg up on it.

" Don't just stand there gawking at me, boy. " He grumbled, " My throat is parched! "

I hurried to fix him a double scotch on the rocks, adding a touch of tonic and a slice of lemon. He nodded approvingly and sipped slowly while I changed into the sweat pants and the t-shirt I usually slept in.

" Scared you, didn't I? " Raynor asked, his whiskers twitching slightly, as if he was indeed smiling under that wild of hair.

I nodded slowly, and got myself a cold bottle of water, which he looked at in amused distaste.

" I'm dehydrated. " I explained, and sat down acrossed from him. Finally, I got the courage to ask the question.

" Is our Master maddened by my failure? "

Raynor continued to sip his drink with obvious pleasure, looking at me with those bright beetle black eyes.

Finally, he condesended to put me out of my misery...

" Our Lord is frustrated with your slowness, but he truly did not expect you to be successful. "

" Why not? " I bristled in my arrogant way.

" My dear boy. " Raynor explained, patiently, " You weren't exactly dealing with those of our mental stature now, were you? "

True. As Raynor so politely pointed out, those beings that inhabited the 17th century in this country were driven by their fears and superstitions and little else.

Basically, my mentor was calling them morons. I concurred.

" He is not angry? " I asked, humbly.

" Oh, he's angry. " Raynor answered, " Just not at you. "

I scratched my head. It was 3:30am, and I was exhausted; was I missing something?

" Our Master is angry that these two-bit witches are not as easy to annihilate as some of their counterparts. I regret to say that you will have company soon, my boy. I tried to prevent it, but one does not tell the Source of all Evil that he is wrong. Not and live, that is. "

I nodded in agreement, yet dismissed the slur placed on the Charmed Ones. Two-bit they were NOT.

Prue was a combination of beauty and brains. She was tough, loyal and devoted. Not too mention a tad to powerful for my taste.

Piper was sweet and anxious, with lovely hair and velvet brown eyes. Her love for her whitelighter was definitely a mark against her, but she was steady, able and family oriented. Her powers were also such that I did not care to provoke her unless absolutely necessary.

My Phoebe. While no Rhodes Scholar, she was street smart, and so lovely...that taffy colored hair and sherry brown eyes against the golden tan of her skin...her smooth, supple skin...how I loved to touch her.

She had finally received an active power, while still honing her power of premonition. All her years of Martial Arts had paid off as she gained the ability to levitate. Phoebe was not a young lady you wanted to meet and annoy in a dark alley.

Not unless you relished a thorough ass whoopin'.

" I understand the Source's anxiety, but wouldn't more demons put our mission in jeopardy? "

Raynor drained his glass and hefted himself to his feet with the help of his staff and my arm.

" You're a good boy, Cole. " He said, fondly, patting my arm.

" I know you will beat the others to the prize. "

It was then I realized that love wears many faces, and comes in many different forms.

Raynor had raised me with as much love as any demon was able to manifestate. He genuinely saw me as the son he never had, and I must admit that I was deeply touched by that revelation.

That I loved him was without question. This was the only father I remembered. I loved him and revered him.

It would not stop me from killing him if necessary, though.

And visa versa...

He was gone before I could ask him for details.

Others? Whom would Our Lord send?

And how would I protect the sisters while retaining my secret?