The days were when life was the hardest for him. He pressed his ear to the
cracks in the wall listened mournfully outside as his old classmates passed
him, wearing the same old grins they wore last week when he had been among
them. Didn't they know? Didn't they understand? Last week, magic had been
revealed to the world, and yet they didn't think it a threat in the least
bit. He feared that the happy and unsuspecting may be the first to go.
"Did you hear about the disappearance?" a solemn voice asked. "Chris Halliwell. He went to our school. He went missing just last week."
"Dunno him," muttered another.
"I did. He sat next to me in math class. Cute kid. Kinda quiet, though, if you ask me. But he was smart."
Chris knew that voice all too well. It was his obnoxious partner in math, Andrea. He longed to scream "I'm right here, guys!" but knew that it would make no difference anyways. They'd just shrug and walk away, pretending that they hadn't heard anything.
"Do you think it's related to —" The speaker lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "That whole 'magic' thing?"
"Maybe...his mother and aunts died in an inexplicable sorta way. I mean, honestly, how often do you find bodies smoldered into ash? I don't think he'd be too pleased if he ever came back."
"I bet you he's dead," said Andrea darkly. "Ran away or something once he heard the news of his family and now he's dead. Maybe he ran into that guy—"
"Lalala, I can't HEAR you!" one of the other girls interrupted. "That magical being that keeps killing people...too creepy. Keep your mouth shut, magic's just wrong..."
The sound of them speaking drifted away as they moved on, headed for the school, where they would spend the day like any other normal teenager would. He sighed and stood up.
"Chris, I've got breakfast ready," said Victor from the kitchen.
Chris stood up and slowly made his way to the sound of sizzling eggs. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad. After all, he and Victor always managed to have a little bit of fun, even if it was just playing cards or board games.
They sat down in silence and chewed the meal.
"Uh, Chris...I think I'm going to have to leave you alone today."
Chris didn't answer. He knew that he didn't want to intrude on his grandfather's life, but he really didn't like the idea of being here by himself. What would he do all day? He didn't speak because he knew that Victor would be able to sense his disappointment.
"I need to...okay, I know this sounds weird, but I'm going to report you as dead. Can you read this spell? You're mother had it in that book thingy of yours. I ripped it out in case it came in handy."
Chris took the fragment of paper out of Victor's hand and surveyed it. The fringe was uneven where it had been torn, and he couldn't help but feel just like that little sitting in a protected book and being ripped away from it with no warning. He stopped himself from thinking and read the spell instead.
"That which hides from wandering eyes,
Make a clone that lives to die."
Chris stared at the floor as blue lights swarmed around his feet. He stepped away from them, and fortunately the lights stayed where they were. A body formed beside him, laying lifelessly on the tile. Not just any body—an exact replica of himself. He jumped away from it, noticing a deep stab wound in its side.
It didn't breathe.
"What are you going to do with it?" he asked tentatively.
"Put on rubber gloves, carry it to an alley and pretend I stumbled upon it. Call 911, all the works...I hope it works."
"Me too."
Victor snapped on the gloves and carried the body out of the room, checking the hall to make sure no one was there. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't leave the room."
Chris remained standing there with a faint outline of a lopsided grin at the comical situation, but then faced the reality of what was really happening. He was alone. Nobody to talk to, not even if he begged...When he was little, he'd never be alone. Just being in the same building with someone was enough to comfort him. But now he was virtually, hopelessly alone.
And the worst part was that he was basically still felt little.
Eventually he couldn't take the silence anymore. He grabbed his jacket in a huff and left the apartment building quickly, not even allowing himself to stop and think of the consequences. He wanted out of here.
The air was cold and sniped at his cheeks. He shivered involuntarily, having heard sirens in the distance. Was it Victor, calling the paramedics after his "body" was found? He shook off the thought and kept running until he found himself in an alley maybe three blocks away. Panting, he leaned on the brick wall behind him.
"Hey!" cried a voice from about five feet away.
It was dark all around him. He couldn't see where the voice was coming from. "Who's there?"
Something shiny and reflective was being held up to his neck. A dagger. He remained still, trying to make out the shape of his attacker, and saw the faint outline of a girl that seemed a little shorter than he was.
"Put it down," he said quietly.
"Why should I? Who are you?"
Chris gulped. "Uh, my name's..." Think, think, think! he thought in his head. "My name is..."
"Spit it out," she snapped.
"Andy," he said automatically. It was the only name he could think of, probably because of his Aunt Phoebe occasionally telling stories of how he and his late Aunt Prue would get in trouble in high school by being "inappropriate."
"Oh." She put down the knife and kept walking deeper into the alley. For some reason, Chris felt compelled to follow.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Why do you want to know?" she said dangerously, whipping around to face him with a swish of her black hair. "Scared of..." She seemed to relish these words. "Magic?"
Chris scoffed. "I'm not a mortal," he corrected. "You don't scare me one bit." He felt like slapping himself for saying that. So much for laying low! But he looked into those big brown eyes of hers and felt that if anything, at least he'd have SOMEONE to talk to...someone to relate to...nobody had ever been like that in his whole life...
"Oh, I see...Then what exactly are you?" she said slyly.
'No,' he thought. 'No, no, no...' He bit back his tongue and didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject upon seeing an odd tattoo on her arm. "You're a phoenix."
"Smart one, you are," she commented with a mysteriously glinting grin. "Very smart indeed...Now, answer my question. What are you?"
"Not until you answer mine," he objected. "What's your name?"
She sighed in exasperation. "Bianca," she said after a moment.
"Oh." The sirens stopped. Chris looked around wildly for a moment, then realized that Victor could be back. "Uh, look, I have to go—"
"So soon?"
"I'm sorry," he said, knowing that he should be leaving.
"It's okay...just promise to meet me here tomorrow?"
'NO, NO, NO!' the voice screamed. 'DON'T YOU DARE, YOU'LL RISK EXPOSING—'
"Sure," he answered. "See ya." He orbed away, mostly to impress her.
"A whitelighter?" she asked herself once he was gone. Then comprehension seemed to dawn on her. "No...he must be the mixed breed I've been sent to..." She grinned. "Gee, you're a bad liar...Chris Perry."
"Did you hear about the disappearance?" a solemn voice asked. "Chris Halliwell. He went to our school. He went missing just last week."
"Dunno him," muttered another.
"I did. He sat next to me in math class. Cute kid. Kinda quiet, though, if you ask me. But he was smart."
Chris knew that voice all too well. It was his obnoxious partner in math, Andrea. He longed to scream "I'm right here, guys!" but knew that it would make no difference anyways. They'd just shrug and walk away, pretending that they hadn't heard anything.
"Do you think it's related to —" The speaker lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "That whole 'magic' thing?"
"Maybe...his mother and aunts died in an inexplicable sorta way. I mean, honestly, how often do you find bodies smoldered into ash? I don't think he'd be too pleased if he ever came back."
"I bet you he's dead," said Andrea darkly. "Ran away or something once he heard the news of his family and now he's dead. Maybe he ran into that guy—"
"Lalala, I can't HEAR you!" one of the other girls interrupted. "That magical being that keeps killing people...too creepy. Keep your mouth shut, magic's just wrong..."
The sound of them speaking drifted away as they moved on, headed for the school, where they would spend the day like any other normal teenager would. He sighed and stood up.
"Chris, I've got breakfast ready," said Victor from the kitchen.
Chris stood up and slowly made his way to the sound of sizzling eggs. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad. After all, he and Victor always managed to have a little bit of fun, even if it was just playing cards or board games.
They sat down in silence and chewed the meal.
"Uh, Chris...I think I'm going to have to leave you alone today."
Chris didn't answer. He knew that he didn't want to intrude on his grandfather's life, but he really didn't like the idea of being here by himself. What would he do all day? He didn't speak because he knew that Victor would be able to sense his disappointment.
"I need to...okay, I know this sounds weird, but I'm going to report you as dead. Can you read this spell? You're mother had it in that book thingy of yours. I ripped it out in case it came in handy."
Chris took the fragment of paper out of Victor's hand and surveyed it. The fringe was uneven where it had been torn, and he couldn't help but feel just like that little sitting in a protected book and being ripped away from it with no warning. He stopped himself from thinking and read the spell instead.
"That which hides from wandering eyes,
Make a clone that lives to die."
Chris stared at the floor as blue lights swarmed around his feet. He stepped away from them, and fortunately the lights stayed where they were. A body formed beside him, laying lifelessly on the tile. Not just any body—an exact replica of himself. He jumped away from it, noticing a deep stab wound in its side.
It didn't breathe.
"What are you going to do with it?" he asked tentatively.
"Put on rubber gloves, carry it to an alley and pretend I stumbled upon it. Call 911, all the works...I hope it works."
"Me too."
Victor snapped on the gloves and carried the body out of the room, checking the hall to make sure no one was there. "I'll be back in a few hours. Don't leave the room."
Chris remained standing there with a faint outline of a lopsided grin at the comical situation, but then faced the reality of what was really happening. He was alone. Nobody to talk to, not even if he begged...When he was little, he'd never be alone. Just being in the same building with someone was enough to comfort him. But now he was virtually, hopelessly alone.
And the worst part was that he was basically still felt little.
Eventually he couldn't take the silence anymore. He grabbed his jacket in a huff and left the apartment building quickly, not even allowing himself to stop and think of the consequences. He wanted out of here.
The air was cold and sniped at his cheeks. He shivered involuntarily, having heard sirens in the distance. Was it Victor, calling the paramedics after his "body" was found? He shook off the thought and kept running until he found himself in an alley maybe three blocks away. Panting, he leaned on the brick wall behind him.
"Hey!" cried a voice from about five feet away.
It was dark all around him. He couldn't see where the voice was coming from. "Who's there?"
Something shiny and reflective was being held up to his neck. A dagger. He remained still, trying to make out the shape of his attacker, and saw the faint outline of a girl that seemed a little shorter than he was.
"Put it down," he said quietly.
"Why should I? Who are you?"
Chris gulped. "Uh, my name's..." Think, think, think! he thought in his head. "My name is..."
"Spit it out," she snapped.
"Andy," he said automatically. It was the only name he could think of, probably because of his Aunt Phoebe occasionally telling stories of how he and his late Aunt Prue would get in trouble in high school by being "inappropriate."
"Oh." She put down the knife and kept walking deeper into the alley. For some reason, Chris felt compelled to follow.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Why do you want to know?" she said dangerously, whipping around to face him with a swish of her black hair. "Scared of..." She seemed to relish these words. "Magic?"
Chris scoffed. "I'm not a mortal," he corrected. "You don't scare me one bit." He felt like slapping himself for saying that. So much for laying low! But he looked into those big brown eyes of hers and felt that if anything, at least he'd have SOMEONE to talk to...someone to relate to...nobody had ever been like that in his whole life...
"Oh, I see...Then what exactly are you?" she said slyly.
'No,' he thought. 'No, no, no...' He bit back his tongue and didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject upon seeing an odd tattoo on her arm. "You're a phoenix."
"Smart one, you are," she commented with a mysteriously glinting grin. "Very smart indeed...Now, answer my question. What are you?"
"Not until you answer mine," he objected. "What's your name?"
She sighed in exasperation. "Bianca," she said after a moment.
"Oh." The sirens stopped. Chris looked around wildly for a moment, then realized that Victor could be back. "Uh, look, I have to go—"
"So soon?"
"I'm sorry," he said, knowing that he should be leaving.
"It's okay...just promise to meet me here tomorrow?"
'NO, NO, NO!' the voice screamed. 'DON'T YOU DARE, YOU'LL RISK EXPOSING—'
"Sure," he answered. "See ya." He orbed away, mostly to impress her.
"A whitelighter?" she asked herself once he was gone. Then comprehension seemed to dawn on her. "No...he must be the mixed breed I've been sent to..." She grinned. "Gee, you're a bad liar...Chris Perry."