Thank you so much to Korzy Potterwell, kkarrot, and Naruto Loves FemKuuybi for taking the time to share your thoughts with me. I love hearing what you guys think. Special thanks to sise87 to whom I dedicate this chapter for being so kind as to bring me out of a funk. Your kind words of encouragement meant a lot to me.
Chapter 12
The gallery was unusually busy for a weekday afternoon. Clusters of patrons dressed in their finest were perusing the various exhibits with their noses in the air and their pocketbooks at the ready. Chris wasn't sure what was going on to draw in such a crowd, but it was making him exceedingly uncomfortable. It was nearly impossible to get through the space without people bumping into him or brushing against him, and every single miniscule contact made him cringe.
An older gentleman in a sharp grey suit worth more than everything Chris owned turned toward him, his face instantly twisting into an appraising glance over. "Jack Russett and you are?"
"Not part of the exhibit," Chris bit out.
Just as the man began to look affronted, Bianca appeared next to the patron, taking his arm and smiling sweetly up at him. Chris didn't like the way her other hand fiddled with the man's jacket collar, but Bianca edged him a look which stayed his tongue. To Jack she flirtatiously said, "Mr. Russett, I am so honored you could come to the silent auction today. Your presence has truly raised the level of sophistication for the entire event."
"Yes, well," Jack returned, "you do have spectacular style and an eye for special pieces. It's why I frequent your quaint little gallery."
Bianca laughed, and the fake quality to it made Chris fist his hands. Noticing his reaction, the Phoenix moved away from her client and gestured to the witchlighter. "I'm so sorry. How rude of me. This is my friend, Chris."
"Another of your models?" the wealthy man wondered
Chris raised his eyebrows at Bianca, who was deliberately ignoring him.
She corrected, "No, Chris is actually a teacher."
"Oh," Jack drew out. "How . . . nice."
Working his jaw in irritation, Chris edged a sharp look to The Phoenix. "I need to speak with you. Now."
Smiling flirtatiously at Jack, Bianca put her hand on the older man's shoulder, turning him toward one of the sculptures setting by the near wall. She gestured at it while she told him, "I think this is the one you'll want to keep an eye on today. I saw it and instantly thought of you. It's bold, innovative and one of a kind."
"You so flatter me, Dear," Jack said looking at Bianca in a way Chris did not appreciate.
The Phoenix ran her hand up and down the man's arm batting her eyelashes at him. "You make it easy. Now, why don't you examine this piece, and I'll be right back to show you some others I think you may find fit your collection to perfection."
Once Jack was thoroughly engaged in studying the art piece Bianca had directed him toward, she turned to Chris and jerked her head toward her office. The pair slipped through the crowds in silence, Bianca leading the way and Chris glaring at the back of her head.
Closing the door to Bianca's office behind him slightly harder than necessary, Chris gestured back toward where they'd come from harshly questioning, "What the hell was that about? That guy was a total jerk, and you were all over him."
"He's one of my best clients," Bianca explained, folding her arms. "It's harmless ego stroking. Besides, you made it quite clear the other night whatever was between us was over, so why do you even care?"
"Don't give me that," Chris returned. "The first year of our relationship was nothing but hooking up and breaking up. We never agreed on anything except for the fact we couldn't quit each other. So you knew damn well I'd be pissed off you were getting handsy with old man money out there."
Bianca's lips parted, eyes growing soft. "You remember?"
Chris blinked. The words had just tumbled out of his mouth without thought. Did he actually remember any of it? He frowned trying to recall something specific. No images came to mind, but he knew they'd fought about right and wrong - about her role as Wyatt's assassin - frequently. Instinctively, he knew anger sparked passion, and the fights almost always wound up with them on top of a desk, against a wall or on the floor. He flushed at the thought.
"Chris?" she prodded.
He cleared his throat and gave a one shouldered shrug. "Sort of."
"Sort of?"
Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "Like everything else in my life, it's complicated. Lately, I just know things. Facts and feelings pop up randomly. Though, my dreams of his memories are clearer, and they stick with me."
Bianca tossed her hair back behind her shoulder and nodded. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth in a way he suddenly knew meant she was incredibly nervous or worried, she hesitantly wondered, "So what does this mean for us?"
"I guess that depends," Chris answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The feelings he had for you are intense, but they're still his, created from all these shared experiences we don't have yet. Hell, we haven't even gone on a first date. Not to mention, I come with some seriously screwed up baggage."
Leaning back against her desk, Bianca lightly challenged, "Because dating the leader of a resistance against The Source, who happened to be his big brother, was such a cake walk? Did I mention Wyatt killed me?"
He lowered his eyes to the floor between them, not quite able to hold her gaze. "The situation last time was bad, but it was outside forces making it hard. This time it's me. My issues and . . . decisions."
"You're going to let them live," Bianca surmised. "Chris, their mother is literally the mother of monsters. Those aren't babies. They-"
"They are though," Chris refuted. He swallowed the horrible lump in his throat, ignored the rising nausea in his belly. "I saw them, Bianca. I projected into the future, and I met them. A girl named Victoria for my grandfather. A boy named Matthew after Wyatt. They seemed good, and I can't condemn them for crimes their mother committed. Especially not when magic or destiny or something wants them to live. Why else would I have been projected into the future at that precise moment?"
Bianca crossed her arms, shaking her head in frustration. "Raising those children will destroy your spirit, Chris. I know you. You will give it everything you have because you're a good man, but they will be a permanent reminder of the worst things to have ever happened to you. They will tie you to that pain forever."
"You think I could ever really escape it?" Chris threw back. "That demon stole part of me I can never get back. I could literally feel her sucking out my essence like an icy black hole, and no amount of time is going to make me forget that feeling. Make me whole again."
"I understand that," Bianca said, "but having a visual reminder day in and day out is going to make it so much worse. Not to mention, what do you plan on telling them when they get older about how they came to be?"
Chris snapped, "I don't know, okay? All I know is they exist, and the idea of vanquishing babies who haven't done anything wrong . . . I just can't do it. But yeah, the idea of raising Lamia's children makes me fucking sick. The only other option is to strip their powers when they're born and give them up for adoption, but I don't know if I could move on knowing they were out there. I'd always wonder how they were - if they were good and safe."
Tilting her head, eyes softly sympathetic, Bianca asked, "So how do you want play this, Chris?"
Shrugging helplessly, he admitted, "I have no idea. Every option sucks."
"Well," Bianca offered, "no matter what you decide, I will do what I can to support you."
A weight he hadn't even known was pressing on him lifted. "Really?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling weakly. "I can't quit you, remember?"
Ducking his head with a grin, he replied, "No . . . but I'm starting to."
000
Bianca saw more of the old Chris peeking through every day, but he didn't even seem to recognize all the changes in himself. How he'd started scanning a room the moment he entered it, pinpointing possible threats as well as available exits. The ease with which he blended into demonic pubs and knew just how to pull information from informants in a way he hadn't been able to even a week earlier. His familiarity with obscure parts of The Underworld. The way he spoke and held himself. The way he'd stare so intensely at her when he didn't think she was looking.
Between the two of them, it had taken five days to track Lamia. If the former assassin was being honest, most of it was Chris' doing. He'd known the demoness' habits, aliases and contacts, using the information to hunt doggedly for Lamia in a way Bianca remembered him doing in the war against Wyatt.
She couldn't help but think his history with his brother was playing a bigger role in his decision process than he knew. If his evil, insane Source of All Evil sibling could be saved, then perhaps he could guide his unborn children to the light too. For the sake of his sanity, Bianca hoped he was right, or she was helping him venture down a rabbit hole there would be no way out of again.
Currently, they were in a demonic pub in a part of The Underworld located somewhere below London. Chris was smooth talking a Limbo demon who had served as a go-between for his other version and Lamia back in 2004. The demon still worked for her and had agreed, for a price, to tell Chris where his master was currently hiding. As The Phoenix made the little man jumpy, she had agreed to take a seat during their negotiations, so she could only watch as Chris gestured with his hands while agreeing to terms with the demon.
When Chris pulled a vial out of his coat pocket, Bianca conjured an athame under the table expecting things were about to get chaotic. Only instead of vanquishing the demon with a potion, Chris merely handed the bottle to him. Whatever the demon said next made all the color drain from Chris' face. Then, the Limbo demon vanished in a puff of smoke.
Concerned, Bianca swiftly slipped from her seat and crossed the room to Chris' side. When he didn't look at her, green eyes focused unseeingly on the blood stained pub floor, she risked lightly putting her hand on his arm to get his attention. Instantly, she regretted it.
Chris jerked violently backward, bumping into a warlock seated at the bar, who in turn grabbed the witchlighter by the collar of his jacket and threw him against the bar top. While Chris knew how to fight, could have easily escaped the hold using one of several moves - or just orbing - he didn't, and Bianca realized he was stuck in his mind.
As the warlock pulled out an athame, Bianca grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and ramming his face into the corner of the bar. Swiping the dagger, she kicked out his knees, dropping the man to the floor. She swiftly placed the blade at his throat. Moving her lips to his ear, she warned, "He's under my protection. Now move along."
With a frustrated growl the warlock shimmered to the other side of the room, rubbing his throat where his own athame had kissed the skin. When a drunk darklighter pointed and laughed at him, the warlock picked up a pool stick and rammed it through the darklighter's chest, sending him up in flames. Shortly after a brawl broke out in the pub.
Returned to the moment, Chris slid over the bar to avoid an energy ball, which went flying past his ear. Throwing out a hand, he sent a bolt of lightning back at his attacker, who screamed within a burst of sparks before being blown to bits.
Bianca tossed a Shocker demon over her shoulder, finishing him off with an energy ball before dropping to the floor to sweep the feet out from under a Hawker and throwing a Charmed Potion at him, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the filthy wood panels.
Ducking as a harpy went soaring over his head, Chris popped back up to quip, "You really know how to show a guy a good time, you know?"
"You started it," Bianca argued, throwing an athame into the chest of a darklighter who had taken aim at Chris.
Chris swung his arm out, whipping several Kazi demons into the wall. Clenching his hand into a fist, he squeezed their hearts until the large demons exploded in a burst of pyrotechnics. Turning to Bianca, he refuted, "So not my fault."
The air rippled and a group of Manticores appeared, and their sights immediately set on the witches.
"Time to go," Chris called over to Bianca. "Follow my orb trail."
Without question, as soon as she saw him go up in light, she shimmered after him. When she materialized, her stomach dropped at the sight of a cavern she'd hoped never to see again. A table covered in ruddy stained instruments. Chains and straps and a torture table. Worst of all was the sight of the bed covered with white satin sheets.
Chris' eyes were focused on the bed, and he swallowed hard enough his Adam's apple bobbed. Hands fisting at his sides, a subtle quiver ran through him. His voice sounded unnaturally tight as he explained, "She came back here. That's what the Limbo demon told me. A few weeks ago, she moved back in here."
"Chris . . ."
Ignoring her, he turned his head toward the torture table and mechanically walked toward it. His hand went to the top strap, and he rubbed his thumb over the leather where dents marred the black strip. Numbly, he commented, "I tried to bite through it. When she waterboarded me, I got hysterical and actually thought I could chew through the strap. It's hard to explain that kind of torture. Ice water up to my shoulders. Rushing into my nose, mouth, ears. I think I know how my Grandma Patty felt right before she died . . . only I experienced it over and over and over. It was the moment Lamia broke me."
Bianca sucked in a breath. He never talked about what happened. Never. Part of her had been relieved about that fact. The selfish part who didn't want to have to hear about the kind of pain and suffering the man she loved had endured.
Throwing out a hand, Chris sent the table flying into the opposite wall with enough force it shattered with a loud crash. He then proceeded to toss the table across the room followed by telekinetically ripping down every chain and suspension bar in the cavern. Finally, he turned toward the bed. Green eyes swirling like a stormy sea full of thunderous rage and sweeping sorrow, he raised his hands and decimated the bed with lightning until only ash floated in the air.
The Phoenix said nothing. Didn't move a muscle. She watched and waited. After the anger always came a crash. She would be ready when he fell. She would always catch him. So, when Chris had finished his rampage, brow slicked with sweat, she moved to stand in front of him. Catching his eyes, she tried to convey support and love without words.
"I hate her," he said through ragged breath.
"I know."
"I hate what she did to me."
"I know," Bianca gently affirmed again.
Chris turned his head away, voice cracking as he admitted, "Most of all I hate what I let her do to me. What I'm still letting her to do to me." Edging a look back at her, his eyes were tellingly bright. "No matter what I do I will never be free."
"Yes, you will," Bianca firmly refuted. "The memories will fade. Someday, the wounds she left on your soul will start to heal. I promise."
Letting out a heavy breath, Chris turned his back to her and moved over to the wall. Picking up a dagger from the floor where he'd sent the table crashing earlier, he ran the edge over his palm. When blood sprang from the wound, he dipped a finger in it and started drawing an unfamiliar symbol on the rocks.
"Can I help?" Bianca asked.
"The wards have to be done in elder blood." He glanced over his shoulder. "Keep a lookout, though. She could be back any second."
After placing the last ward on the final wall, Chris began chanting in a language Bianca thought may have been Greek. When he was done, every symbol he'd drawn glowed blue before sinking into the wall. He murmured, "So mote it be."
The air rippled and Lamia appeared in the middle of a passionate embrace with a tall, lean young man with shaggy brown hair, which she fisted as she jumped up to wrap her legs around the stranger's waist. The youth moaned in pleasure, pushing her up against the wall as his mouth made a desperate path down her throat to her chest.
Bianca shot a look to Chris to find the witchlighter had gone pale again. Lips parted, eyes locked on Lamia, his face contained flashes of so many different emotions Bianca couldn't hope to interpret all of them. Though, as Lamia's target had the same build and coloring as Chris, she imagined he was picturing himself. Remembering being the one under her spell.
A white light poured from the young man's mouth into Lamia's and something in Chris snapped. Face hardening, eyes scorching emeralds, he growled, "Let him go, Lamia."
The demoness glanced up at the sound of his voice, and the sickest sort of happiness filled her features. She immediately unwrapped her legs, hopping down and pushing away her partner, who whined piteously at being denied her touch. With an irritated glare, she told him, "You're not my beloved. You were merely food." When she turned to Chris, her expression softened again, and she lovingly breathed, "Young One . . . you came back to me."
"No." Chris shook his head.
Lamia smiled, patting her abdomen. "To us."
The young man she'd brought with her wrapped his arms around the demoness from behind, kissing her neck. "I need you. Please. . ."
Chris flinched at the words. Breathing getting heavier, shaky, he ordered, "Release your hold on him, Lamia. Now."
"The curse isn't fully lifted," Lamia replied. "You wouldn't want our children to starve, would you?"
Bianca's eyes darted back and forth between the demoness and the witchlighter. Lamia was a master manipulator, and The Phoenix had a heavy dread forming in her stomach as she saw the hesitation in Chris' face. She shook her head at him, silently pleading with him not to take the bait.
"Let him go," Chris repeated, though his voice had lost its strength.
Lamia shrugged, tossing her now strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Very well." Turning to the other man, she lightly blew a red mist into his face causing him to glow before his eyes glazed over and head drooped. She waved a careless hand at him, but he shimmered out only to reappear in the same spot. Violet eyes darted to Chris. "What have you done, Young One?"
"Trapped you where you can't hurt anyone else," he said. "Where I can keep an eye on you until those babies are born."
Lamia started to float toward Chris, but Bianca cut her off. "Don't even think about it, Bitch. You lay a hand on him I will remove it permanently. Just because I can't kill you doesn't mean I won't maim you."
"Bianca," Chris directed, "take the kid someplace safe."
Whipping her head around, Bianca sharply questioned, "What? No. Not unless you come with me. I'm not leaving you alone with her."
"I know what I'm doing," Chris said. Under his breath, he muttered, "I think."
"Last time you said that you nearly died, and I did die," Bianca told him. "No. Not happening, Chris. Forget it. As long as you are here, I will be too."
Taking a deep breath, Chris crossed to her. Palming the side of her face, he locked eyes with her before steadily moving his mouth to hers. Unlike the unsure, timid peck they'd shared before, this was a real kiss. Deep, thorough and, for Bianca, wonderfully familiar in its passion and affection.
Her moment of joy was ruined the moment Chris pulled away and she saw the terrible resignation on his face. She knew what he was going to do. She knew, and she tried to stop him, but before she could open her mouth, could even move, she was engulfed in white lights.
Reappearing in the office of her gallery, Bianca screamed his name at the ceiling despite knowing he couldn't hear her. Feeling helpless and furious, she wiped her arm across her desk sending her computer, papers and random office supplies crashing to the floor. Laying her forehead on the desk, tears pricked the back of her eyes as she breathed, "Damn it."
"Um. . . where am I?"
Looking up, Bianca found the young man from the cavern standing in front of her desk looking highly confused. Shaking her head, she looked up to the ceiling but this time a different name fell from her lips. "Wyatt!"
A minute passed before the soft glow of orbs filled the space forming into the Twice Blessed. Upon fully materializing, Wyatt took note of the shrieking man in the corner and held his hands up in front of him. In a tone eerily similar to his father's he soothed, "Hey. Hi there. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe."
"What the fuck is going on?" the other man questioned, pressing himself into a corner. "I was at a bar with my friends two seconds ago. How the hell did I get here? Where am I? Who are you people? What are you?"
Bianca rolled her eyes. "We don't have time for this. Memory dust him. Fast."
"Memory what me?" the man cried. "Hell no."
As the man made a break for the door, Wyatt orbed in front of him. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, The Twice Blessed pulled out a small brown bag. Looking incredibly apologetic, he opened the bag and tossed gold dust into the innocent's face. He calmly instructed, "You remember going to the bar with your friends. One of the drinks didn't set well, and you got sick and went home. You spent the rest of the evening in bed sleeping it off."
Bianca started patting down the man until she found his wallet. Pulling it out of his back pocket, she snatched his driver license, holding it out to Wyatt. "Hopefully, he kept his address up to date with the DMV. Orb him."
"Bianca, this is all really not the way I do things . . ."
"Chris is about to jump off a proverbial cliff, Wyatt," Bianca snapped. "We don't have time. Orb him."
Without another second of hesitation, Wyatt did as she bid just as she knew he would. One mention of Chris being in danger was all it ever took to get Wyatt to do anything. Even when evil Chris had been his Achilles heel. After the innocent was home safely, Wyatt fearfully questioned. "Okay, tell me everything. Now."
And she did. She explained all the research Chris had been doing without his family's knowledge. How she had helped him track down Lamia. What happened in the cave. She finished with how Chris was starting to remember his other life, becoming more and more like the reckless, brilliant, stubborn man she'd known. She finished with that part because she needed Wyatt to understand him. Needed him to know her Chris was a man whose desire to save his family trumped everything else. Including his own life.
That this time, the cost of saving his family - his children - would likely be his soul.
TBC . . .