PART FIVE

.

.

I certainly dislike death but there are things I dislike even more than death itself and so there are some hazards I will not try to avoid.

-Mencius

They scattered wards of every shape, size and style imaginable around the house. The highest concentration sat in the basement directly over the Nexus as insurance against any possible rupture while others were placed at strategic points along the foundation and support. Paige was fairly certain the Manor hadn't done very well the first time through the quake but Gertrude abruptly announced her intention to sell no matter what might come after the city settled once again, insuring the house would be available for the Warrens to purchase.

Gertrude and Betsy argued over the maid's obligation to stay. Paige didn't know the particulars of it but she'd heard the yells through the closed door of her second-floor bedroom. On the seventeenth Betsy left at Gertrude's behest, though by her sullen demeanor it was clear she still wasn't happy about it.

Afterwards, all that was left were the last minute checks and double-checks through the house as they braced themselves for the on-coming earthquake and prepared for Paige's departure shortly thereafter.

"So how exact do you think the timing has to be?" Paige asked. "Right after the quake or wait a few days?"

"It would be better for you to leave as soon as possible." Gertrude sighed. "But the farther from the point of disruption, the better your chances for success in getting back home. We'll wait."

"And you're sure we can get me back to my original leave time?"

"That's indeed the goal but nothing is ever certain." Gertrude paused, then said, "Paige, dear, I know you dislike discussing the possibility, but have you given any more thought to the matter of Coleridge Turner?"

"Other than the fact that he still treats his girlfriends like crap?"

"Good gracious, language!"

"Sorry." Paige tugged nervously on her earlobe. "Look maybe – maybe there is something to it, like he's a common element between my time and yours or something. But we still don't know what it is and that makes him a total X-factor. I muddled through without him there before. We'll just do the same thing again and hope for the best."

"Perhaps. I'll see if I can divine anything further. A solution may yet present itself."

"Okay, but I wouldn't hold your breath."

Gertrude shook her head. "I've learned in my old age that caution has never hurt when used judiciously."

.

.

.

Cole paced the length of the foyer, unaccustomed nerves making him restless. His mother had insisted he return home this evening, although he still didn't understand why.

The night of the disastrous dinner party continued to prey on his mind. He hadn't seen or spoken to Lonnie since then, though he was unsure who was avoiding whom. So many words had passed between them, too many to clearly separate truth from hurtful lie. Yes, certainly his relationship with Elizabeth affected the one with Lonnie. The very act of defying his mother surely had consequences, as was to be expected. He thought Lonnie understood that. Their affair was a mutually beneficial association, though he of course didn't think she only had what rights he deigned to give her.

Did he?

And that girl! The redhead, Paige Matthews. She displayed the abilities of a Whitelighter, which had to mean Gertrude was a witch. He felt an inexplicable twinge of betrayal; Gertrude had been a fixture of his young childhood, reclaiming that place upon his move back to San Francisco. To learn that she was something that killed his kind somehow hurt.

As for Matthews, he couldn't understand her. She swung between distracted girl to sneering elitist to avenging angel so quickly he had little time to catch his breath, let alone analyze her actions. Though she threatened him – and the ease with which she overcame him suggested she could easily follow through – she'd still let him go with a…what? A warning? A promise?

Cole couldn't say. He only knew that something had changed, that for the first time in his life he could see his future following two divergent paths. But where either led, he didn't know.

"Cole?"

He looked up as Elizabeth descended the stairs. "Mother."

She smiled. "Stop frowning, dearheart. It's unbecoming."

"Why did you want to see me?"

"You're certainly impatient today, aren't you?"

"Mother-"

"I think it would be best if you remained here this evening."

"What? Why?"

"Raynor gave me word. The Seers have seen trouble for this city and it's time to take advantage of it."

"What sort of trouble?"

"Better for it to be a surprise." She patted his cheek fondly. "Just know the chaos in the city will be fantastic when Chinatown falls apart."

"Chinatown," he repeated. "Lonnie lives there."

Elizabeth frowned. "You're still seeing that girl?"

"Why would you-" He halted, suspicion replacing surprise. "What did you do?"

"Absolutely nothing. I simply heard about that dreadful argument you two had."

"From who? There were no servants there and I never-" His eyes widened. "You did it on purpose."

"Darling, I have no idea what you're talking about."

He shook his head, certain now. "You wanted to humiliate her, to create a rift between us."

"And if I did?" she said coolly. "There should have been nothing to create a rift between."

"It's my decision who I take to my bed!"

"It's your duty to remain loyal to the Source!"

"And your loyalty to me?" He hated the way his voice cracked on the question, sounding weak and vulnerable. "What about your duty as a mother?"

"This is me acting as your mother. You're allowing your human sentimentality to override your common sense."

The jab hurt as it was meant to, but it too easily reminded him of the gulf he was so tired of attempting to breach.

"My father was human, too." He curled his fists. "Or did you forget?"

She seemed to realize the tactical error she'd made because she reached out to him. He pulled back. "Cole-"

"I'm leaving," he said. He turned to walk out and so never saw the energy ball his mother threw at him, slamming him into the doorframe and knocking him unconscious.

Elizabeth stared at the still form of her stubborn, aggravating son for a minute before kneeling next to him. She brushed back the thick, black hair from his forehead.

"One day, you'll understand," she said, not unkindly. "This is for your own good."

.

.

.

On the morning of April eighteenth, Abelone awoke early as was her habit. Her father had already departed for his shop by the time she walked into the kitchen. She placed the kettle on the stove and took out a cup and saucer for her morning tea. She smiled as she saw that her father had already sliced two pieces of bread for her.

It was just as the kettle had begun to whistle that she heard the first rumble. At first she thought it might be the trolley but then of course she realized that was a silly thing to think since the trolley didn't run along her street. Then the earth beneath her feet began to shift and she fell to the floor as the rumble grew to a roar…

.

.

.

On the morning of April eighteenth, Paige slept. She didn't think she would get any sleep at all the night before but managed to fall into a deep, dreamless slumber nevertheless.

The initial shock bounced her out of bed and the jolt from hitting the floor woke her immediately. The house continued to shake as she scrambled for the doorway, fingers clutching tightly to the frame as she rode out the quake…

.

.

.

Cole didn't even realize it was the morning of April eighteenth when he came back to consciousness, sore, bruised and still a little dazed from his mother's attack. He was just noticing she'd moved him back to his bedroom when the shaking started. He struggled to his feet and barely made it halfway across the room when his heavy wardrobe finally fell victim to gravity and tumbled toward him.

He shimmered instinctively and stumbled out of it on the first floor landing, disoriented as the floor bucked and sent him to his knees once more. Someone called his name and he looked up to find his mother standing in the entryway, the front door open to the outside world. Despite the roar, he could still hear her question.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

.

.

.

The earthquake began at 5:12 am. It lasted for just over a minute and measured at 8.25 on the modern Richter scale. Shocks were felt as far away as Oregon, Los Angeles and central Nevada.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

Because somewhere a spark was struck, a match lit, a fire begun.

A city about to burn.

.

.

END PART FIVE