After his mother shimmered out, for a few more seconds Cole just stood there, feeling torn apart by conflicted feelings. Part of him clung to the fact that his mother was more powerful than he had ever been, and definitely more powerful than Julie; and so he believed that for the first time since Ben had been kidnapped the boy actually stood a chance. Nevertheless, another voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him that he had just sent one of the most ruthless demons he had ever met after his baby son. What unsettled him the most, though, was the third voice, the little boy that felt utterly relieved and trusted unconditionally that now everything was gonna be alright. Because she was in charge now, and she would make things right again. She was the one that had knelt on the cold stone floor before him, cupped his face between her hands and looked him in the eyes, promising him that none of the monsters that hid in those scary, shady corridors would ever -- ever! -- catch him. She had scooped him up and carried him in her arms as she walked through those long, dark corridors in that first night when they had both stood before the Source and she somehow convinced their Master to accept them both back in the Underworld. He didn't know what she was talking about then, and when he was old enough to understand it was too late to try and remember, but he remembered that he had known beyond doubt that everything would be just fine as long as she kept him nested in her arms. Even when the Source demanded that she approach so that he could see the child she was holding tight in her arms, he hadn't winced. He had even raised the head that was hidden in his mother's neck and sheepishly glanced at the tribal tattoos that covered the demon's face with childish curiosity. His mother had kept the monsters away then, and she would keep them away today, too. 'Cause that was what she did.
This course of thoughts was too disturbing, though, and Cole shuddered, unwilling to dig deeper into it; he turned around and went join Phoebe on the couch again. He could feel the stares of the others, and honestly he couldn't blame them for being stunned: even under normal circumstances, his mother had never been one to make little or no impression on anyone, human or demon.
When he sat by Phoebe's side, she immediately threw her arms around him and rested her head on his chest again. Without a word, he hugged her back, letting her warmth and her tender touch help slow down his heartbeat, until she asked, without raising her head from his chest:
"Do you think she'll help?"
Cole took a deep breath before answering:
"I don't know, baby." -- he made a pause to think, gently fondling her hair -- "She has always been hard to read. She never failed me before, but I was one of her own then. I don't know what she thinks I am now."
"You're human," Phoebe said, raising her head and looking straight in his eyes, "and you're good."
Cole smiled and touched her face affectionately, glad that she'd seen through him again and understood the insecurity that started to creep inside him when he was reminded of his dark ancestry.
"What I don't understand," said Paige, "is why the spell summoned her: it was supposed to summon your blood, and the power stripping potion Emma threw on you vanquished this part of you. Didn't it?"
"I don't know," said Cole. "You see, she gave birth to my human self as much as to my demon self. In fact, as far as I remember, Belthazor never showed up until I was around six."
"Don't take me wrong," said Paige, "but does that mean you're still a demon, only without powers?"
"No," said Cole and Phoebe at the same time, and Paige raised her hands defensively.
"Look," Leo said in a conciliatory tone, "I may be wrong, but I think that's like if I clipped my wings after Melinda here" -- he touched Piper's abdomen -- "was born. She'd still be half-Whitelighter, even if I wasn't a Whitelighter anymore, but that wouldn't make her any less of my daughter."
"That makes sense," said Piper, pensively, covering the hand that rested on her belly with her own. "Cole isn't a clone of his father, which means there must still be something of his mother in him."
"The point is," said Phoebe, bringing the conversation back to the topic that right then was the only one that mattered for her, "is it enough to get her to help?"
"I wish I could be sure, baby," Cole sighed. "By switching sides I let her down big time, and it's not like my mother to forgive a betrayal."
"What exactly is the nature of your relationship with her, Cole?" Piper asked, intrigued. "I mean, if you don't mind talking about this."
"We..." Cole started, but soon he stopped, frowning. How could he possibly explain to them something that he didn't quite understand himself? For more than a century, he and his mother had shared a bond that he knew other demon mothers and sons didn't have. They had been partners and allies, more loyal to each other than to any other creature: even the blood oath he had taken when he joined the Brotherhood of the Thorn didn't overpower it. As a grown up, he had his own quarters and his own assignments, and sometimes several months passed without them seeing each other. But he always ended up coming back to her, always found a way to let her know how he was doing. That was, of course, until he met Phoebe and his life turned upside down.
"I don't know," Cole started again, realizing with some impatience that it was the third time he said that in the few minutes since his mother had left. "She's not like any other demon mother... but she's not like a human mother, either. She's..." -- Cole shook his head, frustrated. How could he make them understand? -- "As a toddler, I wouldn't have lasted one hour in the Underworld if it wasn't for her. She took care of me for much longer than she'd have to take care of a demon child: they develop much faster than human children do. And she took charge of my training herself, which is something demon parents just don't do: there are demons whose job is to train the youngsters."
Cole rubbed his eyes, as memories he had hoped were buried forever came back to him. For a moment, Phoebe almost forgot how worried she was about Ben, as she saw his face crumple in distress, and she cuddled with him, attempting to reassure him.
"To be coached by her was a living hell," he sighed, "but in the hands of any other demon, I'd have been as good as dead. And eventually, as I got the the grip of things, it became less of a torture; as a teenager, I actually looked forward to those training sessions."
"You were three when she took you to the Underworld, right?" Phoebe said, gently massaging his forearm and shoulder. "Did she make you fight at such tender age?"
"No," said Cole. "I think I was five; I remember it was a couple of months before I met Sarsour."
Seeing the look on their faces, he added, almost defensively:
"It wasn't as bad as it sounds. I mean, it was but... I had to learn how to control my powers if I was to survive in the Underworld."
Cole sighed heavily, exasperated by his own inability to express himself. He didn't want the others to think that he thought it was no big deal. Still, somehow he couldn't stand the idea of them seeing his mother as nothing but a heartless monster. He closed his eyes as an old memory came to him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He and Sarsour burst into his mother's chamber, shrieking in terror and silently praying to whatever dark deity that might be listening that she was in there. He was seven at the time, and Sarsour was nine, and as usual they had been snooping around in places where they weren't supposed to be... except that this time they had been caught.
"What the..." she started to say, as the two kids jolted their way across the room and circled her, making sure she stood between them and the door.
Then an enraged alchemist walked in, with murder in his eyes. He stopped short as he saw the demoness staring coldly at him, and asked, pointing at the two kids hiding behind her:
"Are those two yours?"
Cole didn't need to look at Sarsour to know that his friend had recoiled further as he heard the alchemist's question, but to his relief his mother ignored the question and said sharply:
"I don't remember having invited you over."
The alchemist seemed to hesitate briefly, but his anger took the best of him:
"Those little brats have sneaked into my laboratory; I caught them in the act of snooping in my poison's locker."
"Belthazor, is that true?" his mother asked, while keeping her eyes at the alchemist.
"Yes, mother," he said. Scared as he might be of the consequences, he knew better than to lie to her.
"Have they damaged anything?" she asked the alchemist.
"No, but they could've..."
"But they haven't," she said, cutting him short. "And they won't, because they won't enter your laboratory ever again."
"But I..."
"I'll make sure they know it's a bad idea," she said, in a voice that made Cole and Sarsour exchange a nervous look.
The alchemist seemed to be about to say something else, then he thought again and turned around to leave.
"Alchemist?" Cole's mother called, and the alchemist stopped short and looked back at her. "Make sure you don't mess with my breed again. Otherwise you'll lose more than a few bottles of poison."
"Just make sure they stay out of my quarters and we'll have a deal," the alchemist grunted, before leaving the room a little too fast for one who intended to play it cool.
As soon as the alchemist was out of the room, Cole's mother turned to the two kids and, without a word, she slapped each one hard in the face.
"You don't break into other people's quarters," she hissed, "not unless you're ready to kill them if you're caught. And the two of you together don't have the power to kill a stinking gnome, much less an alchemist."
Straightening up, she pointed at Cole and said:
"Your training sessions will start one hour earlier for two weeks, starting today. As for you," -- she pointed at Sarsour, and this one winced -- "get out of my sight: you're not allowed to come back here until the day after tomorrow."
Appalling as an extra hour of ducking from his mother's energy balls and desperately trying to fire some of his own might be, Cole would gladly endure his punishment for three weeks instead of two in exchange for the suspension of Sarsour's temporary exile. Not only he would miss his only friend a lot, but also he knew that the half-elf would probably go through hell in the hands of the other demon kids -- unlike Cole's mother, Sarsour's father didn't bother to interfere. Still, they both knew that pleading with her would most likely only grant them an extension of their penalty. So, Sarsour turned to him and said with a weak smile: "See you in two days," before shimmering out. Then, as his mother told him to follow her and shimmered out, Cole nodded in silence and obliged: who knew, maybe that would be the day when he'd manage to fire an impressive energy ball -- so far he had only managed to produce a few lame tiny ones -- that'd make his mother happy, maybe happy enough to dismiss him earlier.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Cole bit his lower lip, pensively. Should he tell this story to the others? Or should he tell them that as a grown up he had been seriously wounded in combat a couple of times, and had barely made it to her quarters, where he'd have most certainly died if she hadn't taken him in and nursed him until he was fully recovered? Would it make a difference if they knew she had cleaned his wounds, provided the liniments that alleviated his pain and the bitter tasting beverages that lowered his fever, never leaving the side of his bed? That even as he moaned and floundered deliriously, he somehow knew she was there all the time?
Piper's voice brought Cole back to the present with a start:
"I'll fix us something to eat," she was saying.
"Thanks, Piper," he said, "but don't count me in: I'm not hungry at all."
"Neither am I," she said as she stood up, "but we can't afford being weak. I'm not gonna cook dinner, but everyone is gonna have at least a piece of fruit and a glass of milk. If the need to fight arises, we gotta be prepared."
Piper started to walk to the kitchen, then stopped halfway from the doorway, turned around and said:
"Cole, not that I'm looking forward to this, but if for any reason you're not around when your mother comes back, how should we call her?"
"Erzsebet," Cole said.
Piper repeated the name to herself, then nodded and left the room.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ben giggled and tried to grab the athame that brushed his belly ever so slightly, tickling him. He was lying on his back, on top of a stone table, and his pajamas were open, exposing his tummy.
"You like the athame, don't you?" said Julie, softly, while retracting her hand and keeping the athame out of the toddler's reach. "And I'll bet your parents never let you play with sharp objects, you poor thing. Don't worry: soon we're gonna play a lot of interesting games with this one."
"Hi," Ben said, using one of the few words that formed his vocabulary and reaching out for the athame again. He was deeply surprised when Julie not only didn't give it to him, but she also didn't smile or kiss him. The baby frowned, intrigued: that had never failed before. Julie didn't pay any attention to him as she felt Erzsebet shimmering in a few steps behind her. She turned around to face the newcomer, saying reproachfully:
"Well, it was about time you showed up!"