PART FOUR

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She complains that men and gods must
follow separate ways...
grieves that once departed we go to
separate lands.
-Ts-ao Chih, The Goddess of the Lo

If the process of getting into the everyday wear of a typical Edwardian socialite had been unpleasant, putting on an evening gown was downright hellish. Not only had her underwear multiplied, but the corset Betsy squeezed her into was in serious danger of cutting off circulation.

"Breathe in, miss!"

"I am breathing in!" Paige grunted as the laces tightened. "You're trying to suffocate me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," Gertrude said as she walked in, elegant as always in a black dress with lace trim and short, gauzy chiffon sleeves. "That corset's hardly pulled in at all."

"Says you," Paige muttered, pushing back Betsy's hands and escaping the maid's clutches. As she fumbled through tying the laces herself, she added, "And I still don't understand why I have to go. None of my witch powers work anyway. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"As I've said, a connection may exist between you and young Coleridge. I'd rather observe you together than apart. Besides, after the manner in which you arrived here, I don't entirely trust you on your own."

"I'm not some kid."

"And I'm not the one who trapped herself in the wrong century, am I?"

It was a little difficult to argue with the truth, so Paige turned her glare over to the dress she'd be wearing. It was the only one they could find on such short notice that would fit her with little alteration needed, a buttercream gown with split white ribbons over the skirt embroidered with roses. It might have looked good on someone else with different coloring and an appreciation for frills but Paige just thought it made her look jaundiced.

At least her hair looked great.

The ride over in the carriage was spent mostly in silence. Paige marveled over how quiet the city seemed without the constant rush of motor traffic. There remained something familiar in the layout and smells but the nature of the city itself was different, as if it stood on a precipice, waiting for the change Paige knew was coming.

The Turner house was impressive enough to warrant a gated entrance and a footman greeting, a bit of Old World gentility intruding into the American frontier.

Paige gave a low whistle. "Guess crime really does pay, huh?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Gertrude asked as she ascended the stairs.

"Well, it'd be paid through the demonic network, wouldn't it?"

"I don't think so. Not unless Ben Turner's father built it by magic."

"Oh." Cole had always had expensive tastes and his brief stint at social services had proven he didn't deal well in a constricting work environment. Paige always assumed it came from a certain amount of corruption caused by the Underworld network that could provide him with funds no matter how dirty or bloodstained they were. It never dawned on her that any of his money may have come to him through much more ordinary and human means. Judging by his familial home, it didn't come as such a surprise then that he'd never quite outgrown that bit of spoiled brat attitude.

The house itself, though big, wasn't quite so large as it seemed. The vaulted ceilings and open floor plan – a sharp departure from the typical Victorian design of the other homes in the area – gave the illusion of a much more extravagant home, a sight compounded by the ornate furnishings in the drawing room into which they'd been ushered.

As she found herself quickly surrounded by the elite of San Francisco society, Paige spent her first few minutes there smiling politely and restraining from saying too much, less willing to reveal a greatly altered vocabulary to complete strangers than she cared about in the comfort of the Manor. In fact, she was so concentrated on not drawing attention to herself she gave a start when she finished the rounds with Gertrude and ended up right in front of Cole and his girlfriend.

"Coleridge!" Gertrude declared, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. "You have been far too scarce in recent months, boy."

"Mrs. Mayweather." Cole gave her a slightly strained smile, either embarrassed or unhappy or both. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

"Miss one of your mother's gatherings? Perish the thought." She turned to the Asian girl standing beside him. "And who is this lovely young woman?"

"Oh, Abelone Ling. Lonnie, this is Gertrude Mayweather. She's an old friend of my father's." The girl extended her hand shyly, seized up by both of Gertrude's. Paige noted with a twinge of jealousy that Abelone had gotten away with a loose but nicely cut gown that bore subdued embroidery along the box collar and split sleeves before draping gracefully to the floor. Why was it everyone else had mastered the elegance of Victorian excess and she looked like a stick of butter?

"Abelone," Gertrude said. "That's Danish, isn't it? No doubt named for a grandmother?"

Abelone blinked. "Y-yes. How did you know?"

"I know a great many things, dear, most of which I will never admit to," Gertrude answered with a little wink. "Ah, but I'm forgetting my manners. Coleridge, Abelone, this is Paige Matthews, my cousin visiting from New York."

Still slightly dazed from the force of Gertrude's personality, the couple at last noticed Paige. Abelone jerked in surprise and Cole made a small, strangled sound before Paige stuck out her hand and smiled her most ingratiating smile.

"Charmed," she drawled. "I'm sure." When Abelone continued to frown and Cole sputtered, her grin widened. "I know. You're going to say you know me from somewhere but really, I just have one of those faces."

Before Cole could recover enough to respond, they were joined by another woman roughly the same age as Gertrude. "Why, Getrude, darling, you've been hiding from me."

"Elizabeth, of course. How silly of me." While Cole seemed uncomfortable by virtue of Gertrude being, well, Gertrude, there appeared to be genuine dislike between the two older women. Paige inferred the familial relationship between mother and son by resemblance alone, the similarity striking. The only real difference was in the eyes. Where Cole's were a sky blue that appeared deceptively innocent in his youthful face, Elizabeth's were an intelligent, glittering black. "Permit me to introduce Paige Matthews, my cousin."

Elizabeth appraised Paige with a long, cool look, sending a chill down the Charmed One's spine. Paige had known a face-to-face confrontation would be inevitable once she entered the Turner home but nothing could quite prepare her for the power coiled neatly under Elizabeth's polished appearance. Her mere presence was sending all of Paige's Whitelighter instincts on screaming edge, making the act of merely smiling and saying "How do you do?" a difficult task.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed but she turned back to Gertrude without even acknowledging the younger woman. "Gertrude, darling, you should have told me you were bringing a guest. The table is only set for fifteen."

"Well, I could hardly leave her alone, poor girl, not after traveling all this way. Though I might have had the opportunity to respond had I received an invitation earlier." The words were polite enough but there was no mistaking the hidden barbs coming from both women.

"Of course, I do apologize for that. I admit, this little soiree was a mere whim, but one I hoped would bring a spot of color to the spring after such a long, dreary winter. I'll be happy to have Gerard arrange another setting. Cole." Cole, his eyes still darting nervously in Paige's direction, turned his full attention back to his mother. "Dearheart, the Adams have just arrived. Why don't you go greet them?"

He gave Paige one last bewildered glance before smiling tightly. "Of course, Mother." He departed for the entryway, Abelone trailing in silent confusion behind him.

"If you'll excuse me, Gertrude, I'll see to that setting, now." Elizabeth glided off, her skirts swishing with a haughty flip.

Gertrude glared at her back. "You're quite certain she's a demon?"

"No doubt at all," Paige said.

"That's a relief. I feel far less guilty for disliking her so thoroughly, then."

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The dining room was no less opulent than the rest of the house and the food was, admittedly, delicious, even if the meat was a little rarer than she preferred and she had to firmly turn down offers of wine twice. With something now in her stomach and her obligation to make small talk no longer enforced, Paige actually found herself relaxing a little. Despite Cole's presence, the evening wasn't so bad.

It took her a few minutes to realize what exactly was being discussed at the other end of the table and when she began to hear snippets of it, she straightened, comfort slipping into disbelief. The loudest comments seemed to come from a bearded, rotund man sitting to Elizabeth's left.

"The Sandlotters missed the point," he was saying. "'Course they aren't particularly bright – not many learn proper English, you know – but no denying they're hard workers."

"Still, how can you bear to even step foot in Chinatown? Don't you fear assault by one of those street gangs?" a woman across from him said.

"Everyone knows it's not much more than a breeding ground for disease and criminals," another man added.

"Just makes the wages you have to pay them all the more reasonable." The bearded man held his thumb and forefinger close together to illustrate his point. It generated light laughter from his audience.

It was...grotesque, a deluge of racist rhetoric disguised as polite chitchat by societal elite. Paige could only hope that being in the home of a demon would mean that this group who surrounded her were demons as well but even she couldn't delude herself that much. History all too often illustrated the tragic talent humanity had in harming those deemed different from themselves.

Before Paige could open her mouth to protest, Abelone had pushed herself away from the table, the loud screech from chair legs halting all further conversation.

"Excuse me," she murmured, rising. Cole placed a hand on her arm but she shook him off and fled the table. Cole spared a sharp, angry glare at his mother before following.

There was beat of silence. Elizabeth smiled tightly. "You'll have to forgive my son. He's adopted the girl as his most recent charity project."

That produced another round of laughter, although this time it was more strained. Paige, angered by the patronizing callousness, opened her mouth to challenge the statement. Gertrude gripped her arm tightly.

"Not here, not now," the older woman spoke sotto voice. "See to young Coleridge."

"What?" Paige had never thought Gertrude would be one to stand idly by while others were subject to cruel ignorance. "But they were just-"

"This is not your time or place. Much as you may be offended on that girl's behalf, what is acceptable in polite society changes." It was a poor excuse, but not a wholly illegitimate one. "Go after Coleridge. Look upset and I'll make your excuses."

Left with little else to do and disgusted with the company anyway, Paige did as suggested. She didn't look back as Elizabeth said, "Whatever is the matter with your cousin, Gertrude?"

"A weak constitution, poor dear," Paige heard. "The fighting upsets her so. She merely needs some air..."

The sounds of dinner faded as Paige stalked through the halls of the Turner estate, seeking out the boy who seemed intent on making her life miserable no matter what age or incarnation he appeared in. The more she thought about it, the more she was inclined to believe Gertrude's theory on her relationship with Cole. Too many coincidences in too short a time suggested something greater at work, though what its purpose was, she had didn't have the faintest idea.

It didn't take her long to find Cole, despite her unfamiliarity with the house, mostly because he was in the middle of a heated and none too quiet argument with his girlfriend. Paige paused outside the door to the room they were in, unabashedly eavesdropping.

"...all I am!" Abelone was yelling. "Something to upset your mother!"

"You know nothing about me or my mother!" Cole sounded equally upset. "And you have no right to criticize her!"

"Why? Because you're afraid of losing this twisted game of yours? Afraid I won't be your good little pawn anymore?"

"As if you gain nothing from the arrangement! As if you aren't walking among society like you think you belong there!"

The resounding crack of flesh meeting flesh greeted the statement and a moment later, Abelone came flying out of the room, never even noticing Paige. Paige hazarded a glimpse around the doorframe. Cole stood in profile to her, still rubbing his reddened cheek in a daze. His frown abruptly twisted into a snarl and with an inarticulate yell, he formed an energy ball and hurled it at a nearby coffee table, decimating it.

Paige realized that this is what she had been waiting for all evening, a sign that despite his youth and seeming gentility, Cole was still the same old devious creature underneath, hopelessly irredeemable. Yet even as she stepped forward to lean nonchalantly against the doorframe – or as nonchalantly as one could in a dress and petticoats – she couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. Even after all this time, she still wanted to expect better from him.

"Same old story with you, isn't it?" she said aloud.

Cole whirled around, eyes widening. She looked pointedly at the blue sparks still dancing along the edge of his fingertips. "Plan on throwing one of those at me next?"

He glared. "Who are you?"

"An old acquaintance."

The sparks pulled themselves into a small, tight ball, although his hand remained at his side. "You're a liar. I never laid my eyes on you before a few weeks ago."

"But I did on you. And trust me, what I saw? Doesn't really impress."

His hand rose, energy crackling. "I will only ask once more: who are you and why do you insist on persecuting me?"

"Let's just say you're not the only one in this room who had a parent that wasn't exactly human." She raised her eyes toward the ceiling to drive home her point. He paled.

"Candida lux," he whispered. "But I thought they were forbidden...!"

Paige smirked. "Surprise!"

She saw the tense in his arm just before he threw the energy ball and easily orbed out of the way, re-forming behind Cole and twisting his arm against his back in a move she learned from Phoebe. It wasn't something she really would've been able to do against his older more experienced self, but this Cole still had a tendency towards telegraphing his moves so loudly even she could see them coming. Locking him into position with her free arm against his throat, she leaned forward to talk into his ear.

"Let me make this real clear: I don't like you. And if it were up to me, you'd be so much vanquished dust right now. Lucky for you, it isn't, but before you get any bright ideas, get it through your skull: you can't touch me. You can't hurt me. And you definitely can't get to me. But everything you do and say, I'll be watching. So unless you want a little wrath of the Almighty coming down on your ass, I suggest staying out of trouble."

Before he could respond, she released him and orbed right out of the house onto the front steps. She took a deep breath of fresh spring air and grinned.

God, but that felt good.

Yeah, so she'd interfered. So she hadn't followed the rules. So what? What did Gertrude expect anyway? For the first time in weeks, she felt like she'd actively created change – one too long in coming in her not so humble opinion – instead of just sitting passively and letting others dictate her behavior. Maybe she hadn't affected anything in the long run or maybe she'd even made them a tiny bit worse but at least she'd given that bastard something stew over for a while. And maybe, just maybe, Cole would think twice about messing with her in another century or so.

Having no desire to return to the hypocrites at dinner and seeing the night was lovely, cool, and clear, she decided it might be worth taking a walk before orbing back to the Manor. However, this plan was quickly derailed when she turned the corner outside the main gate and spied the figure huddled underneath the gas lamp. It took her a moment to recognize it but when she did, she paused.

Abelone. And it kind of looked like she was crying.

Paige sighed. She ought to leave well enough alone, but, well, crying caused by Cole. The kid deserved some sympathy from someone who could relate to the problem. "Hey. You okay?"

Abelone quickly dabbed her eyes in an effort to compose herself. "I-I'm fine, thank..." The words died as she recognized who asked. Paige smiled.

"That's the second time I got that reaction tonight. I must be on a roll."

"I don't understand," Abelone said. "I thought – I mean the way you acted, it seemed as if you disliked us."

"Dislike Cole? Oh yeah. You? Well, I question your taste in men, but no way did you deserve all that crap getting heaped on you at dinner tonight. Besides, boyfriend giving you grief? Totally obligates me to bond."

Abelone blinked. "I have no idea what that means."

"It means you need a fellow female to lend an ear while you tell me what a jackass Cole is."

"He – he is not." At Paige's raised eyebrow, she admitted, "Well, sometimes he is."

"See?" Paige said, slinging her arm over the shorter girl's shoulder. "Better already."

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Abelone protested Paige even accompanying her home in the first place, but after Paige assured her that she (or, rather, Gertrude) could afford the cab fare and that there was very little that could shock her, Abelone relented.

Abelone lived on the edge of Chinatown, a squat, cramped collection of buildings whose better days, if they'd had any at all, were years behind them. While Cole's home nestled among the residential estates of Nob Hill gave the impression of reserved grace, everything here suggested a concentrated effort to forget these people even existed. Abelone's apartment appeared in better shape than most but that wasn't saying a whole lot.

Walking through the street level entryway, Paige noticed a worn but still legible paper tacked to the door. Something seemed vaguely familiar about it and as she traced the Chinese characters, she realized this was simply the latest piece over a pile of disintegrating paper.

"What is this?" she asked.

Abelone glanced at it and smiled. "A talisman. It keeps bad spirits out."

A Chinese charm. Paige knew very little about magic practiced in Asia but certain commonalities seemed to crossover between different covens, regardless of locale. Whether this particular ward was actually imbued with any magic at all or simply the product of folk tradition, she couldn't say. It did make her wonder if Cole had ever been here to test it.

Abelone's second floor apartment was miniscule, the kitchen and living area a single square room that had barely enough space for a table and cabinets, let alone the two of them. A short hallway by the gas stovetop led to two additional doors – a bedroom and bath, Paige assumed. The paint along the visible woodwork was all peeling and most of the tile work on the floor had come loose but there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. A lot of effort had gone into making it a neat and cozy home.

Abelone had only just placed her keys and handbag on the tabletop when a male voice called, "Abelone?"

"Zher, Ba," Abelone answered. A middle-aged man stepped out of one of the back rooms. He said something else in Chinese and prompted a rapid exchange that Paige couldn't understand. Abelone at last turned back to the Charmed One.

"Ms. Matthews, this is my father, Ru Ling. Papa, this is Paige Matthews."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ling." She held out her hand which Run took in a gentle but firm grip.

"Very pleasant to meet you, too." He had a thick accent but the words came out clipped and precise. "New to San Francisco?"

"Kind of, yes."

"You will like it here," he announced. "Very unusual city. Very interesting."

"Papa." Abelone spoke in the tone of an amused but exasperated daughter who had heard the same speech many times over the years. Ru chuckled and patted her hand.

"My daughter. She thinks I am a strange old man." He then said something in Chinese that sounded like a question. Abelone answered and he patted her one more time before returning to the back room. Abelone shook her head.

"You'll have to forgive him. He can be a little...peculiar."

"I can live with that."

"Is there anything I can get for you? Tea, maybe? You've been kind enough to come all this way..."

"Tea sounds great, thanks."

While Abelone prepared two cups for them, Paige stripped off her opera gloves and set about making herself as comfortable as possible when still constrained within an evening gown. She managed to loosen the back laces slightly but after a few minutes of strained grunting, she gave up on reaching her boots.

Paige broke the silence as Abelone distributed cups and saucers on the table. "Just out of curiosity, how did you and Cole hook up, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, no offense, but it doesn't really look like the two of you move in the same social circles."

"But, ah, I don't think-"

"Bonding, remember? So, spill. How'd you two meet?"

Abelone didn't answer immediately. Instead she poured tea into each cup and settled into the chair across from Paige. She stared into her drink for a moment, tapping her finger against the rim. "He broke my dishes."

"He – broke your dishes?"

"Yes." Abelone smiled, small, nostalgic. "We were finally able to afford new ones and I was walking home with them when Cole took a corner too fast. The bag tore from my hand and everything shattered when it landed. It had been – well, I suppose it had been a very long day, so I began to cry. He looked so – so mortified." She laughed a little. "He promised to buy new ones just so long as I'd stop crying."

"Interesting way to start a relationship." Paige took a sip of strong, bitter tea. "So what about him drives you nuts?"

"Pardon?"

"You know, what does he do that annoys you?"

"Oh, I really shouldn't."

"Please, you so should. He deserves it after this evening."

Abelone frowned. "He calls me 'Lonnie.'" Her voice hardened. "I hate that name."

"Why does he do it?"

"He thinks it's clever. 'Lonnie Ling.' He never even asked if I liked it."

"Does that a lot, huh?"

"All the time!" The Chinese girl seemed to be warming herself to the topic. "He has these ideas in his head that he simply assumes I'll be happy to follow without question, yet every time I try to make any sort of plan, he never listens. And – and he snores!"

Paige almost choked on her drink.

"Not all the time," Abelone continued. "But when he does, it's awful. I'm surprised his neighbors haven't complained."

"Maybe they have."

"Well, if they haven't, they should." Abelone appeared much more relaxed, now that she'd finally gotten all of that off her chest.

Paige grinned. "Feel better?"

"Yes, actually, I do." She sounded a little surprised by that. She paused, then asked more quietly, "Ms. Matthews, may I ask a personal question?"

Paige waved her on. "Sure, as long as you call me Paige."

"All right, Ms. – Paige." Abelone tilted her head. "Why do you dislike Cole? He says you never even met before."

Paige chewed on the bottom of her lip for a second, unsure how to respond. When she did, it was halting and carefully edited. "We have, but not directly. He...hurt someone very close to me, hurt her pretty badly. I guess after that I'm not really inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"I'm sorry. I-I'm sure he didn't mean to." Abelone sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Paige.

Paige sighed. "Y'know, the kicker is, when it all started, I don't think he meant to either. But he did anyway. It's just who he is."

Abelone looked down at her tea, speaking in a small, tired voice. "He's going to hurt me badly, too, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Paige murmured, unable to lie. "Yeah, he probably will."

There was really nothing else to say.

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END PART FOUR