Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait; I hope you enjoy the chapter. Thank you so much to all of my readers. You guys are awesome, and I love hearing what you think.
Chapter Thirty-Six
"No – no – don't put me on hold-"
Paige groaned as tinny music filled her ears, the cheerful sound clashing with her rapidly-darkening mood. Turning sharply on her heel, she paced back across the kitchen with the cordless phone trapped between her ear and shoulder, shooting a desperate glance at the slowly-filling coffee pot.
"Still fighting with the credit card company?" Henry asked, distractedly, glancing up from the stack of papers he was filling out.
"This is the third time in an hour that I've been put on hold," she growled, as she slumped down into a chair beside her husband. "All I want to do is order new cards. Why is that so hard?"
"I'll trade you dealing with the credit card company for filling out the insurance paperwork," Henry said, gesturing to the papers he was dealing with.
"No, thanks," Paige replied, as Henry smirked at her. "I can't believe the insurance company was even open this early."
"The entire apartment building went up in flames," Henry pointed out, unnecessarily. "They're dealing with claims from everyone who lives there, and they probably want as few headaches as possible. The fact that it's going easier on us, as well, is just an added bonus."
"Too bad I can't get a little of that consideration from the credit card company," Paige grumbled. Then, her attention snapped back to her phone when she heard a voice saying her name. "Yes, I'm here."
"Now," the woman on the other end of the line was saying, "I understand that you're trying to replace your credit card?"
"Right," Paige told her, pleased to finally be getting somewhere. "Mine was lost, last night."
"Was it stolen?" the woman asked, and Paige could hear the clicking of computer keys in the background.
"More like melted," Paige said, wryly. "I was in an apartment fire, last night."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, as though the woman hadn't been expecting that kind of answer. Then, she cleared her throat, awkwardly, and resumed typing.
"If I could get your name," she prompted Paige, "so that I can pull up your account information-"
Fifteen minutes later, Paige hung up the phone with a quiet sigh of relief. Her head was pounding, and she desperately needed coffee. Luckily, the coffee pot had finally finished filling.
Grabbing a cup from the cupboard, she poured herself a drink and had to resist the urge to inhale it right where she was standing. She poured a second cup for Henry, passing it to her husband who took the cup with a smile.
"You told the credit rep that your last name was Mitchell," he said, after they sat in silence for a few seconds.
"Matthews-Mitchell, technically," Paige corrected him. "It's what I signed on our marriage license."
"I thought that you wanted to keep your last name," Henry commented, and Paige shrugged.
"I am, in a way," she told him. "Besides, using both names has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"It does," Henry replied, smiling at her. "Although, now I have to go through and fix some of these forms," he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice.
"Give it here," Paige told him, reaching for the stack of papers. "I found a spell in the Book; kind of like magical white-out."
"What about the personal gain issue?" Henry asked, worriedly.
"Honey, considering that demons burned us out of our home," Paige told him, "and are the whole reason we're dealing with this mess, I'd think a little personal gain is the least of our problems."
When Prue entered the room about a minute later, she looked at the two of them with a surprised expression on her face.
"And here I thought that I was an early riser," she commented, as she made a beeline for the coffee pot.
"We've got about a million things to take care of," Paige told her. "Insurance claims, new credit cards-"
"New driver's licenses," Henry spoke up, and Paige groaned.
"Aka, three hours in Hell," she muttered.
"Necessary evil, honey," Henry told her. Glancing up at Prue, he added, "Headed into work?"
"Yeah," Prue replied. "Do either of you need me to drop you off, somewhere?"
"Nah, we're good," Paige said, answering for both of them. "We're going to take the bus to the DMV, and then back to the apartment building to get our cars."
"I could use a ride if you're offering," a voice spoke up, and Phoebe bolted into the kitchen to grab Prue's cup of coffee out of her hands. "Because I have a job interview."
"You've been trapped in the Underworld for the past week," Henry said, raising an eyebrow at her.
"It was for a job that I'd applied for about a month ago," Phoebe answered. "They called me this morning and asked me to come in for an interview. Which is in less than an hour, so I have to get ready."
"Well, good luck," Paige called, as Phoebe ran out of the kitchen. Then, she rolled her eyes as her words were ignored.
"She hates my guts," she said, shaking her head.
"Phoebe doesn't hate you," Piper said, in a horribly unconvincing tone, as she came into the kitchen in time to hear Paige's comment. At her younger sister's raised eyebrow, Piper relented, "Okay, yeah, she kind of hates you."
"Phoebe thinks that we're trying to replace her in the Power of Three," Prue said, reluctantly, sounding like she really didn't want to say it.
"That's ridiculous," Paige scoffed. "I'm not a Charmed One, anymore. I have my own life, now, and my own destiny."
"I didn't say that she was being rational about it," Prue told her. "Listen, just give Phoebe time and everything will blow over."
"Yeah, we'll see," Paige muttered. Then, she looked up at as Tyler stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing up, honey? You should still be sleeping."
"I have school," Tyler said, stifling a huge yawn behind his hand.
"You sure, kiddo?" Henry asked. "Because, we could always call you in sick, let you get some more sleep."
"I want to go," Tyler told them. "We've got a big test, today, and I don't want to miss it."
"Looks like we've got another stop to make, then," Henry commented, glancing over at Paige.
"Sure you don't want that ride?" Prue asked.
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Two hours later, Paige settled into the driver's seat of her car with a relieved sigh. The DMV had been just as busy as she'd expected, but thankfully there hadn't been much a hassle to get their new licenses. Then, she and Henry had headed back to the burned husk of their apartment building.
The damage was even worse when seen in the daytime. The demons had done their job well, and nothing in the building had escaped destruction. The only good to come out of any of it was that, miraculously, no one had died.
But, that was where the good luck ended. Paige had orbed herself and Henry up to the remains of their apartments, where they found the charred remains of their personal belongings. They'd worked to salvage as much as they could between the two apartments, and Paige had used the Object of Objection spell to repair what she could. It hadn't been much, but at least they hadn't lost everything.
She and Henry had loaded their cars up with everything they'd managed to save, and they were going to store it back at the Manor. Paige was intending to go there after she stopped off at work.
She'd only been driving for a couple of minutes when she got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She looked out of the window to see a rundown old Victorian up ahead. She passed the old house every day she went to work, and it always gave her the same reaction, the same feeling of dread pooling in her gut.
Before, she'd just laughed the reaction off as superstition, had called herself silly every time she found herself speeding past the house. But, now she wasn't so sure, especially since all of her instincts were practically screaming at her that something was seriously wrong, there.
Parking her car on the side of the street, Paige sat in the car, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she stared pensively at the house across the street.
'I'd feel a lot better about this if I could remember why this house is so creepy,' she thought, wryly, as she debated whether or not to go up to the house.
Part of her wanted to go, to find out what was really inside that old house. The other, saner part screamed for caution, telling her to call her sisters and wait until they'd arrived before she did anything.
'They'd probably be pissed at me if I didn't call them,' she reasoned, reaching for her cell phone.
First, she tried Piper's cell phone, and then Prue's, but both phones went straight to voicemail. Then, she hesitated before dialing the next number, but it had to be done.
"Hello?" Phoebe answered her cell phone, about thirty seconds later, and Paige winced at the sound of her voice.
"Hey, Phoebe," she said, trying to sound cheerful.
"Oh, Paige," came the flat answer, and there was a definite lack of enthusiasm in her older sister's voice. "What's up?"
"Well, I think I've got a demonic problem," Paige told her, "and I could use your guys' help."
"What kind of problem?" Phoebe asked. "Do you know who the demon is?"
"Well, no," Paige admitted. "There's this creepy house, and it's always given me a shiver when I go by it, and lately, the feeling's been getting worse. I know there's something up about this house."
"A shiver," Phoebe repeated, skeptically. "You felt a shiver."
"There's something going on with this place," Paige insisted.
"Or," Phoebe told her, "you're just cold. Maybe when you've been a witch for more than five minutes," she continued, in a snippy tone, "you'll be able to tell the difference between sensing evil and needing a heavier jacket."
"Gee, Sis," Paige said, sarcastically. "Thanks for the support."
"I have to go," Phoebe snapped. "They're about to call me in for a second interview." Then, without so much as a good-bye, the phone went dead in her ear.
"Well, that went well," Paige muttered to herself as she snapped her phone shut.
She considered trying Piper and Prue's phones, again, but she hesitated before dialing, wondering if her other sisters were going to have the same reaction. She was still arguing silently with herself a few minutes later when she heard the roar of an engine from down the street.
A motorcycle pulled into the driveway of the house and a couple got off the bike. The passenger, a young woman, pulled her helmet off to shake out her long, blonde hair, and the driver took his own helmet off, although Paige couldn't make out his face.
For a second, she was still torn over what to do, but when the pair started toward the house, her mind was immediately made up. Jumping out of her car, Paige sprinted across the street, trying to reach them before they went inside. The young man had his hand on the doorknob as she ran up the driveway, pulling the door open, but Paige made a sharp gesture with her hand, generating a burst of wind that ripped the doorknob out of his hand and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
"You can't go in there," she gasped out, as she reached the porch. "Trust me, you do not want to go into that house."
"This is my house," the young man argued, and Paige got another disorienting sense of déjà vu as she looked at him.
But, she didn't get the sense that he was evil. She couldn't exactly remember who he was, which was frustrating, but she didn't get the feeling that he was the demon that she was after.
When the couple moved toward the door, again, Paige quickly moved between them and the door, blocking access to the house with her body.
"You can't go in there," she repeated, insistently. "There is something very bad in that house."
Something in her expression must have convinced the young man, because he turned to his companion with an apologetic look on his face.
"Carol, I'm sorry," he told her, as he gently steered her off the porch and back toward the sidewalk. "It's just not going to happen, tonight. I have to deal with this, first."
"Yeah, you should get rid of the crazy ex-girlfriend before you call me, again," Carol snapped, glaring at Paige.
As she stormed away down the driveway, Paige resisted the urge to yell after the other woman, to inform her that she was saving her life, but there were more important matters at the moment. Like the young man standing in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest, staring pointedly at her.
"Just who are you?" he demanded, and Paige returned his glare, keeping her own arms loose by her sides in case she needed to use her powers, suddenly.
"I'm the witch who's trying to save your ass," she hissed, angrily. "I know there's a demon in that house, but what I don't understand is why you keep bringing him victims."
"Because I don't have a choice!" the young man shot back, harshly. "Gammill made me, and he'd destroy me if I tried to betray him."
"What do you mean, he made you?" Paige asked, confused. "What is that, some kind of Mafia thing?"
"No, he literally made me," the young man went on. "Out of clay. I'm a golem."
"That's new," Paige remarked, and the young man just jerked his shoulder in a quick shrug. "Hey," she said, suddenly. "What's your name?"
"I'm Finn," he told her.
"Well, Finn," she said, "I'm Paige. And I need you to tell me everything about Gammill so that I can vanquish him."