Episode 3 : Semi-Charmed Life
The floors were of posh marble. The furniture of burgundy velvet and dark oak. High gothic ceilings hung above and medieval artwork decorated otherwise bland walls. And in the distance, ringing down the halls, a whine droned throughout the mansion.
Welcome to the Underworld.
"Oh God! Oh please help! Help! Help me!"
Trembling on the frigid ground was a thin man. His shirt had been removed revealing a malnourished stomach where his ribcage protruded in a sickly display. The skin of his back and arms was ashy, so pale that it was nearly gray. Most of his quivering form was stained with scarlet blood, expelling and prevalent in so many places it was difficult to tell exactly where the source began.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh help! Help!"
A heavy leather whip, studded with shards of rigid metal slammed down on him, ripping across his shoulder blade and pulling skin from its place. A terrible scream peeled from the back of his throat and he twisted in agony. Another lash slapped into his side and his yelp cut short as if a vocal chord had snapped.
Breaking through the painful quiet was an amused chuckle. It came from the man seated behind a desk of black granite. He leaned back in his chair, an endearing smile on his well-sculpted face. "Give him another one Urazell," he said between laughs.
At the words, the whip snapped through the air again before slamming into the victim's chest. The frail man had stopped screaming now. Only a pitiful hiss fell from his dried lips. His face, marred with scars and brimmed with bruises, avoided that of his adversaries.
"Ah, you're not going to yell? Well, that's no more fun," the man groaned. With a melodramatic yawn he picked up the glass from his desk and drained it of the black liquid contents it held. As it emptied he placed it back on the table, pointed a finger at it, and in an instant it began refilling itself. He spoke as he went about conjuring his drink. "Listen, it's nothing personal. I just need to send a message, you understand?"
The man gave no sign of comprehension, instead he quietly collapsed on the cold floor. Urazell paced above him, his large hand still clenched around the handle of his leather whip. It dragged along the floor with each step, the metallic shards scrapping behind the tassel.
"If you're not with me, you're against me," he continued. "It's the new law. Law of the Underworld. Law of the human world…"
At that he gave a very satisfied grin and took a moment to relish in the thought. His glass had finished filling itself and he took another swig. When he finished he looked back down at the ailing demon he had taken to torturing. Well, having Urazell torture.
"I like you. Really I do. Well, at least as much as I can like any of you pathetic outliers…" he said. "You're all useless to me unless you're loyal to me. And you'll learn soon that there's no point anyway without loyalty to me. We have a new system here, you see? A more organized, professional Underworld means for more success against Good. Having unsophisticated, barbaric scum like you running around is just getting in the way. You're lazy, you're stupid, and you attack without a plan. Really, it would be easier for me to just kill every demon like you and get you out of my hair."
"Malum!"
His words were cut off by a shrill voice from down the hall and he seemed to tense in his seat. The clicking of heels followed the call and his jaw clenched as a woman entered his office.
"Malum, you said this would be just another ten minutes," she snapped. Dark hair rolled down her slender shoulders, stopping at the middle of her back. She wore a trendy cocktail dress, revealing a pair of pale but strong legs and equally impressive arms. Her eyes glared at him with a hazel fire.
"Well, excuse me darling, I am just trying to run the Underworld!" Malum screamed back.
"You promised that - - -"
"I know what I promised woman!" he barked.
"I am so sick of you getting tied up with your "work"! You're just torturing this one for the fun of it!"
"Aliah I've told you to stay out of my business damn it! Now get out!"
Aliah's eyes swarmed with a dark fury and in an instant she raised a small palm. Before Malum could predict what she was about to do, a fireball formed in her grasp and she quickly threw it at the bleeding demon in front of his desk. The frail man was quickly transformed into a pile of ash and she smiled with satisfaction.
"There; business taken care of," Aliah said.
"You stupid bitch!" Malum growled. "What is wrong with you?"
"You said we would go out for New Year's Eve!"
"After I was done with work!" Malum screamed back. "I swear Aliah, if I had half a mind I would have Urazell kill you right here."
At his master's words Urazell looked over with question, already rolling an energy ball into his hands. "Sir?"
"No, no Urazell," Malum groaned.
"What? Have him kill me because you're too cowardly to do it yourself?" Aliah challenged him. "I'm your wife! I'd hope you'd show me a little more respect than that and at least kill me by your own hand!"
"Aliah, don't tempt me," he growled lowly.
"Sir?" spoke a new voice. Timidly shuffling inside was a new demon, this one rather large, arms rolled with muscle, face patterned with tattoo ink. His shoulder was bandaged but he strode with a well-harnessed ease. "You said you wanted to speak with me about tonight?"
"Yes, yes, come in," Malum mumbled, stepping out from behind his desk and hesitantly taking his glare away from Aliah. "How did the attack go this morning?"
He shrugged. "They were less prepared than I expected," he said. "But I wasn't able to get a clean shot."
"Then you'll try again tonight," Malum told him.
"Yes sir," he nodded.
"They'll all be together so you'll have to plan carefully," Malum warned.
"Together?"
"Yes. My inside source tells me that they are hosting some sort of party at their restaurant," Malum replied, taking a short drink. He loosened the scarlet tie around his neck and unbuttoned his collar. "Lots of people there. Many innocents."
"Sounds risky."
"We're not worried about exposure," Malum said. "That's their problem."
"What do you mean you're not worried about exposure? I'm worried about exposure," Aliah replied. "Not with my Delazar up there."
"And your stupid, bastard son is the last thing I'm worried about," he snarked.
"Do not talk about Delazar as if - - -"
"He is holding us back! He has been up in the mortal world for how long? And he still hasn't had any substantial break through with - - -"
"He has been in contact with the Halliwells," Aliah said. "These things take time. You shouldn't underestimate his effectiveness! And aside from that the Brotherhood would be without a leader if it weren't for him!"
"He is leader of the Brotherhood because I made him leader of the Brotherhood! Advocate all you want for him. He is weak," Malum spat. "Same weaknesses as his father."
"You're only jealous you will never be as powerful as he was!"
"Enough woman!"
"Sir?" the tattooed demon spoke up.
"Right, where were we?" Malum mumbled. "Yes, attack at the party tonight. Kill a Charmed One and I won't kill you, got it?"
"Yes sir."
"Oh, and one other thing," Malum remembered. "While you're there, why don't you kill the mayor for me, will you? I think it would be interesting. Send the mortal world into chaos, don't you think?"
Aliah rolled her eyes but the demon nodded his head as Malum continued to chuckle. "Of course sir," he said.
"Good, well, get out of here!" he screamed at him. In an instant he shimmered out of sight, leaving Malum, Aliah, and Urazell still in the spacious office. Malum gave a sigh as he looked to his wife. "What are you hungry for? Chinese?"
"I was thinking Thai," Aliah said as he strode over. She slipped her arm into the crook of his as the two walked out.
"You know Thai food upsets my stomach," Malum groaned.
"What kind of demon are you?"
"One with a very sensitive digestive system."
It was crowded. In fact, she couldn't remember the restaurant ever being so full and deep down it was starting to make her claustrophobic. At least it seemed like the party had turned out nice. It was something out of a movie with everyone dressed like they had stepped off the red carpet. There was a band dressed in matching penguin suits at one end of the Triquetra and waiters in white jackets carried trays of champagne and appetizers.
The round tables that were strategically scattered about the room were mostly full, and attention was turned towards the mahogany podium set at the head of the restaurant. Someone was speaking but she couldn't see who. She was too busy watching her three cousins nearly kill each other with glares as they stood in a circle at the back of the room, hissing something inaudible at one another. Chris seemed to be refereeing in the middle of it, face strained with frustration. She was about to walk over and see what was unfolding between the new power of three, when suddenly the restaurant became loud with applause.
Spinning on her heel to face the podium, she found San Francisco's very own mayor finishing up a speech and graciously waving out to the audience. As the clapping continued and he beamed happily out at the group, she suddenly saw an out of place figure out of the corner of her eye. Before she could try to discern the leather clad guest, a fast moving energy ball split through the crowd, not stopping on its route until it slammed into the mayor's unsuspecting throat.
Screams echoed throughout the restaurant as more energy balls began to fly. In a panic people rose from their seats, knocking over plates and chairs sprinting for the nearest exit. And behind her all she could hear was Chris' disbelieving rage. "Shit."
"Are you sure that's not being too forward? I don't want to come across as some crazy stalker or something, you know?"
Sam was unaware how long Jack Mason had been voicing his concern by the time she snapped out of the premonition that had blindsided her. She quickly shook her head, attempting to release herself from the grips of her subconscious. Her chestnut eyes frantically scanned around the Bay Mirror office as if she somehow expected to find reassurance in the chaotic newsroom.
"Sam? You okay?" Jack asked. He maneuvered his face in front of hers, garnering her attention with a nervous smirk.
"Yeah, sorry," she apologized. She cleared her throat. "Just having a . . . moment . . ."
"Can I get you something? Water?"
"No, really, I'm fine," Sam insisted. "What were we talking about?"
"You said that you had an extra ticket to the benefit tonight and I was asking you how creepy it would be if I asked Melinda to join me..."
"Go for it," she said as she brushed past him, trying to dodge fellow colleagues. Jack spun around in confusion.
"What? Where are you going?" he asked.
"Nothing – I mean, nowhere, just don't worry about it, okay?" Sam said frantically.
It wasn't often that she was consumed by a premonition as vital as this. In fact, it was rare she had very vivid premonitions at all. It was very much a secondary power that she had yet to embrace. Lucy was the clairvoyant one; Sam just contributed every once in awhile with miniscule happenings or a rare demonic insights.
It was all the more reason to report it to whoever it concerned. To be honest she didn't know exactly where she was headed as she left the Bay Mirror office, she simply knew she needed to warn her family. With a demon like this, the benefit was going to be one hell of a party.
"Is it really that bad of an idea?" Jack called after her.
His question went unanswered as she slipped out of sight.
"Hospital food isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be," Lucy Halliwell announced. She sat at a small square table in the corner of the San Francisco Memorial cafeteria, a generous variety of lunchtime foods on her plate.
Lila poked less than appeased at a salad as she sat across from her younger sister, looking up only when she saw Chris and Laura on their way toward them, both carrying trays of food. "This reminds me of high school," Chris chuckled as he sat next to Lucy.
"Yeah, except Laura has people to sit with," Lila quipped.
Her elder sister shot her a pointed glare, but no protest came. To put it nicely, Laura had been anything but social during high school, and had seemed to spend more time at Golden Gate attempting to blend into the background than be the life of the party.
"Not that I'm not glad you all came to have lunch with me," Laura spoke up, "but what are you doing here?"
"Well, since you wouldn't come to us, we thought we'd come to you," Chris answered, his mouth stuffed full with a sandwich.
Laura raised an eyebrow. "That sounds suspiciously important. What's going on?"
"He wouldn't tell me anything," Lucy said with a shrug.
"So…" Lila asked Chris.
"I just had a meeting with the Elders," he finally answered.
"Oh great," Lila groaned. "How'd that go?"
"Eh, better than expected. Odin is still a pain in the ass but that's beside the point," he said, wiping his mouth.
"Well, what'd they say?" Lucy asked.
"That you three are vulnerable as the new power of three," Chris said. "They said you need a whitelighter...and they assigned me to be that whitelighter."
"That's great!" Lila nearly shouted.
"Welcome to the team cuz," Lucy added with a grin.
"Much rather have you than some random jerk," Laura agreed.
"Well, I may not be random at least," Chris said. "No guarantees on not being a jerk. The Elders assigned me to not only heal and guide you but to teach you and keep you on task."
"Like a drill sergeant?" Lucy sighed.
"More or less so," he shrugged. "I'm just supposed to make sure you reach your full potential."
"Eh, I hate full potential," she muttered.
"First order of business," Chris spoke up. "The demon that attacked this morning - the one with the tattoos – his name is Phazon."
"Phazon?" Laura repeated.
"Yes. Upper-level demon. Works mainly as an assassin," Chris elaborated. "In most cases can be vanquished by a high power potion."
"I've already started on a batch," Lila said.
"We'll have to be ready at the party tonight," he told them. "I just have a bad feeling. I think we should strategize. Laura, if he attacks you need to . . ."
Chris' words fell short as an interloper crept in on the conversation, coming up behind Laura with a good natured smirk. She furrowed her brow in confusion at her cousin/whitelighter before a large pair of familiar hands fell on her shoulders.
"There you are," James said. "I've been looking all over for you."
Laura's mouth nearly dropped in surprise as she whipped around in her chair to face him. Chris, Lila, and Lucy seemed equally dumbfounded, eyes glazed with shock. "James!" she choked out. "Hi."
"Hi . . ." he mumbled back, his stare growing confused. "What happened to you this morning? I woke up and your clothes were there but you weren't."
"You said you were at the hospital," Lucy whispered bitterly.
"That's because I was," Laura nodded. "Yeah, I got a page this morning and I didn't want to wake you."
"But then why . . ."
"Laura, you haven't properly introduced us," Lila cut in, saving her sister from further lies about the demon spar that morning but delving into a new daring topic.
"Uh right . . . well James, these are my sisters, Lila and Lucy," Laura began nervously. "And this is my cousin Chris."
"I've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you," James smiled graciously, shaking Lila's hand and then moving onto Lucy's.
"Really? That's weird because Laura hasn't mentioned a word about you," Lucy said.
James' blue eyes flashed with surprise and Laura nearly died of embarrassment. "Oh," the doctor mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at Laura who couldn't think of anything to say before Chris broke in.
"Laura's pretty private, I'm sure you know," he said.
"Yeah, I basically had to beg her to let me meet you," James replied as the two men shook hands.
"So you're her boyfriend?" Lila asked.
Laura bit on her lower lip, wincing in further mortification as James tried to hide his hurt. "Yeah. Yes," he nodded.
"How long have you been dating?"
"A year," Laura said.
"A year and a half this February," James added.
"Wow," Lucy mumbled. "Well, you've been a pretty well kept secret."
"Sure sounds that way," he said.
"Well, you're coming to the benefit tonight, right?" Chris grinned.
Another confounded look flashed across James' face as more terror hit Laura's. Chris immediately regretted his words as his cousin faltered to make another lame excuse for keeping her beau in the dark. "Benefit?" James repeated.
"Yeah, it's a New Year's Eve party. Biggest event in town. The Triquetra's hosting it," Lucy replied.
James seemed uninterested by the details and kept his eyes trained on his squirming girlfriend. "I wasn't even sure if I was going to go," Laura reasoned.
"What? Laura you - - -"
Chris plopped a hand over Lucy's mouth, drowning out her troubling interjection. "I was going to surprise you," Laura continued. "If of course you even want to come…"
"Of course I want to come," James scoffed. Laura could sense the edge in his voice and knew that he was beyond pissed.
"Great," she nearly whispered.
"Then you can meet the rest of the family," Chris added with forced positivity.
"I'm guessing they don't know about me either," James said coldly, glare locked on Laura's hazel eyes. An uncomfortable silence settled around the group when suddenly breaking the quiet was the crackling intercom above.
"Paging Dr. Halliwell. Dr. Halliwell to ICU. Dr. Halliwell to ICU," the speakers announced boldly.
Laura gave a shaky breath, straightening out her white lab coat and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to go," she said timidly. She pressed onto her tip toes and pecked a kiss onto James' locked jaw before giving her family a nervous farewell. "Bye."
"Bye!" the trio called after her.
"That was awkward," Lila mumbled.
"Yeah," Chris whispered with wide emerald eyes.
No one had expected Wyatt Matthew Halliwell to ever put on a chef's jacket.
As the most powerful being to ever walk the Earth, there had been some sort of unspoken assumption that he would simply devote himself to saving the world and protecting good. He still did those things of course. He still was coming to the rescue of innocents and defeating demons and evil. But unlike their predictions his passion lie with something much different.
He could still remember the first time his mother taught him how to crack an egg. He remembered his first successful dish. He remembered spending hours in the kitchen, experimenting with food and spices and tastes. It was a game for him. And when he cooked, he had a habit of pouring his heart and soul into his work.
Attending the California Culinary Academy after high school had only heightened his skills. It was natural for him. The truth was, though no one would say it, he had even surpassed his mother. He had earned the Triquetra a four star title a year ago and was well on his way to making it five. The critics loved him and his name was starting to be associated with the best in the San Francisco area.
When it came down to it, cooking was Wyatt's escape. It was an escape from the pressures of his calling. An escape from the expectations that came from being Twice Blessed and savior of the greater good. For a moment, cooking could make him feel normal. It kept him humble, motivated, and above all else happy. Even if it took him away from his Wiccan duties more often than the Elders liked.
"It's delicious."
"You've said that about every dish."
"That's because every dish is delicious," Melinda Halliwell told her brother as she sat at the high counter in the industrial sized kitchen of the Triquetra.
"I think you just don't want to hurt my feelings," Wyatt chuckled. "If you don't give me any criticism, how am I supposed to make it better?"
"You want to know your problem?" Joey asked. He sat next to Melinda, a plate of Wyatt's appetizers in front of him.
"What?"
"That you're asking us for culinary advice," Joey said. "Between the two of us we can boil a pot of water and make sandwiches."
"He makes a good point," Melinda nodded in agreement. "Besides, Wy, you know people will like whatever you make."
"Especially if it's an open bar," Joey chuckled.
"Thank you, Junior," Wyatt laughed. He spun his chopping knife expertly around his hand before resuming slicing a bright orange bell pepper.
"So, you have a date for tonight?" Melinda asked her younger cousin.
"Nope," he answered with a sigh. He gave her a wink. "Would you do me the honor?"
"Only if you shower," Melinda quipped.
"Consider yourself the luckiest girl in the world. I'll even wear clean socks," Joey said.
"Speaking of attire, did you pick up the suits?" Melinda asked. She watched as Joey's face remained blank and elaborated with slight concern. "The suits? For you and dad and Chris…"
"Shit!" he exclaimed, jumping down from his seat.
Wyatt laughed. "You have one job dude. You sit around the manor all day and you can't remember the pick up the suits for mom?"
"Hey! Don't hate because you're jealous," Joey told him as he slipped on his jacket. "Besides Aunt Piper says she likes my company and I can live at the manor as long as I want."
"That's because she knows you would starve otherwise," Wyatt teased.
Joey narrowed a good natured glare at his cousin and pretended to raise a fist. Melinda cleared her throat. "Joey, suits! Now, go!"
"Right, sorry, I'll see you later date," he said before stumbling out the double doors of the kitchen and leaving Wyatt and Melinda.
"You ready for tonight?" Melinda asked her brother. Wyatt shrugged.
"Probably not," he smiled as he tossed a pinch of salt into a boiling pot of soup, "but we usually manage. Just don't tell Chris that."
"My lips are sealed," she replied. "Where is he anyway? I thought he'd be running around here like a little Stalin by now."
"He had to meet with the Elders about something and he hasn't been back since," Wyatt answered.
Before more could be exchanged a flash of cerulean lights nearly blinded them and appearing instantaneously was Sam. Her brown locks seemed to be in a bit of a tangle and her eyes were harried with news that had yet to be revealed. "You're a little late for the taste test," Wyatt told her.
"Everything okay?" Melinda asked, feeling the nervous energy that poured from her elder cousin.
"I had a premonition," Sam said breathlessly. She took the empty seat next to Melinda and brushed back her hair.
"Of what?"
"Tonight," she replied. "Someone – a demon – kills the mayor at the party."
Wyatt's face dropped with dread. "You're sure it was a demon?"
"Yes, I'm sure it was a demon," Sam snapped, annoyed at his disbelief. "Tattooed face. Kills the mayor with an energy ball to the throat. It sends the entire restaurant into chaos."
"From what mom said, it sounds like the demon that attacked the girls earlier this morning," Wyatt mumbled.
"I know you're not going to want to do this, but you should tell Chris," Melinda told her brother.
"It's going to make him even crazier about tonight," Wyatt groaned. He whipped the dishtowel over his shoulder and replaced his chopping knife into his belt. "He's neurotic enough as it is."
"Tell him, or I will," Melinda threatened.
"Fine, fine," he caved.
"What can I do to help?" Sam asked.
"Write down every detail you remember from the premonition. You're going to have to help Chris and I with demon patrol tonight."
"Oh goody…"
The call had been urgent.
Over the years Kate had become able to differentiate between the requests of her charges. A single breath or hitch in their voice could usual indicate the severity of a witch's malady or future whitelighter's plague. Tonight the call could not have been anymore grave.
By the time she arrived she could nearly hear the decreasing heart beat of the charge in her ears. The young witch was a limp in the corner of an abandon warehouse, a deep wound visible at just a glance. "Kate?" she choked.
"I'm here Valerie," Kate assured her as she closed in on the weak charge. She took to her knees once reaching her, staining the fabric of her jeans with the sticky blood that surrounded them.
"It hurts . . ."
"I know, I know," she said calmly. "But it's going to be okay. Just take a deep breath Valerie . . ."
The serene composure Kate Mitchell was able to maintain in even the most gruesome situations was rather profound. It was a strength that ranked her among the best whitelighters and had won her the trust of all her charges. When they were in trouble they knew she would come. They depended on her. They needed her strength. And each time Kate would bring it to them.
There was always a sinking feeling in her stomach when she first raised her hands to heal. Part of her would cringe and fill with anxiety as she waited for her hands to glow gold. The pause was always torturous and long as if teasing her with the prospect that death had won out.
Fortunately for Kate and Valerie, today was not such a case.
Still, even as a healing warmth shot from her hands and the gapping wound at the fallen witch's side began to seal itself shut, the sinking feeling never left. In fact, it only grew more intense. The sour taste of vomit in Kate's mouth became hot and unbearable. Her hands trembled uncontrollably and her head pounded with castigation.
And suddenly it was no longer Valerie who lay injured beneath her.
It was Paige.
They were no longer in the warehouse, they were in the manor.
And Kate was no longer successfully helping a charge, but her mother was dying before her eyes all over again.
The shaking became more overpowering in her hands, creeping up her arms and chattering her teeth. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperate to convince herself that it was all just her imagination. It was all in her mind.
"Help me . . . Kate . . . help. I'm dying Kate . . ."
She could hear her mother's voice so clearly that she could only come to the conclusion that Paige was there, tears fallings, blood spilling, life fading, all over again. She was failing her again.
"Mom no," Kate whimpered.
Valerie, whose healing was almost finished, grew worried at her whitelighter's confusing words. "Kate?"
"I can do it," Kate muttered breathlessly. A chill enveloped her as she shook her head. It was Valerie beneath her again, her wound almost healed. Then in another breath it was Paige. "Mom please…"
"Help me Kate. You're letting me die!"
"No!" she yelled, her voice echoing loudly off the concrete walls. She nearly jumped back from Valerie's now healthy form, trembling and pale in her delusion. Her charge anxiously sat up, nearly crawling after her.
"Kate? It's okay," Valerie murmured worriedly.
"No. No. No, I can do it," Kate chanted as she squeezed her eyes shut. She subtly rocked back and forth, the hallucination of her mother the only thing locked in her memory. The moment replayed over and over. Paige's dead form. Her blood. Her final breaths. It was all Kate could see and feel. And suddenly the real was unreal and the unreal was real. She pulled in a shuddering breath, pulling back when Valerie reached out a hand to touch her. "Stop!"
Valerie was startled at Kate's reaction and quickly removed her hand. "Kate, it's okay…we're here. I'm fine. You're fine."
"Leave . . ." Kate hissed.
"But - - -"
"Go!" she shouted. She never opened her eyes for confirmation of the witch's disappearance. Nor did she stop rocking or muttering. Nor did the trembling stop or the images disappear.
Kate was gone again.
thank you all so much for the reviews! i took your feedback into consideration and though it may be hard to tell right away, some of the ideas are taking shape in the story. i've introduced the new source and the brotherhood will also become more prevalent soon enough. also i'm thinking about centering kate's problems on a PTSD storyline. um...oh! and i've been meaning to say this, but i know at times it seems like characters are being kind of pushed aside in certain episodes (or multiple episodes) but i have a plan for all of them so no worries! they will all be eventually included, it's just hard to put it all together when you're trying to tie up other arcs. anyway, that's all for now. thanks for the reviews and i hope to see more! ~ sammy
