Emotionless Lighters
Chapter Four: What Phoebe Reveals
Piper
I let out a huff of air, relieved at finally uttering the spell. When I look up, I see that the boy is shaking, eyes brimming with tears. His eyes…they've changed to a startling hue of green and grow wide with fear and a mixture of emotions I have never seen before.
It takes Leo a moment or two to realize what I've done. "Piper, reverse the spell," he commands shakily after a moment, watching the boy tremble.
"Why?" I snap. "It's only fair that he has his own rights. The elders are all a bunch of sick assholes for doing this—"
"Piper—"
That's when I feel the house shaking from underneath us. The boy has closed his eyes, still rocking in the chair.
"Chris?" I ask hesitantly. He seems to be in his own little world, far beyond our reach.
"Don't leave me," he pleads with a stranger in this world, "please, don't let them take me. Not again. I can't…I won't…stop it…take me back…"
"Piper, reverse the spell!" Leo shouts as the floor shakes harder and pots and pans begin to rattle. "Quickly!"
"Undo the spell of which I think
And restore the trap of secrecy."
I breathe another sigh of relief once the house stills once more. The boy is sitting upright in his chair as if nothing happened—his eyes once again gray and his face lifeless. The only trace of the previous uproar is the slight shake in his breathing.
"What was that?" I gasp.
Leo seems to relax a bit at the end of the quaking. "Don't you realize how many feelings they must suppress? To let them all out like that, with that kind of power…of course something like that would happen!" he says. "Even though he obviously doesn't look it, he's probably scared and confused and lost by all this unfamiliarity and maybe even angry or scared about the elders. Keep in mind how you'd feel in his situation." After a pause he adds, "And please don't do that again."
"Excuse me," I say coldly. "I'm just trying to help."
He puts a hand on my shoulder and I intend to shrug away, but linger in the old comfort I used to find in the gesture. "I know, Piper. I know."
"I am sorry," the boy says, cutting in the silence. "I do not mean to act so rashly again."
My anger flares at the injustice of it all. "Don't blame yourself, it wasn't your fault," I assure him, leaning down to his level in the chair. "Nothing in this situation is your fault. It's all a big accident. You know that, right? That you can't take the blame?"
He doesn't nod or shake his head, but I can tell that he does blame himself. Could a child really be taught to believe such nonsense?
"We need Phoebe," Leo asserts for the second time that day. "She can try to look into his past. She may have the answers we need."
"I do not have a past," Chris says, surprising the both of us since he didn't often speak out of turn.
"I'll call her. She doesn't live too far away." I pick up the phone and walk into the next room, explaining all the details to her from her cell phone as she drives over. Phoebe, as I expected, is very passionate with her anger over the situation as well—maybe ever more than me. In record time she speeds up the driveway and opens the door.
Chris is still sitting in the chair, having not been instructed to move yet. I swallow back my guilt at forgetting to allow him to move.
Phoebe gasps when she sees him and the shock on her face is startling.
"What?" I ask, looking around the house. The way she was acting, there could be demons swarming the room or something. But there aren't any demons. It's only me, Phoebe, Leo, and Chris. So what's she all worked up about?
"What's wrong?" I repeat when she doesn't answer.
"You mean you can't see it?" She leans down to Chris. "Oh my god. Are you telling me that you haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what?" asks Leo.
She frowns at him. "You haven't noticed it either?"
Leo
I stare questioningly at my sister-in-law. What's Phoebe talking about, anyway? What can't we notice, besides the fact that she's freaking out in our kitchen without an explanation?
"I don't know what you're talking about, Phoebe," I say apologetically, glancing at Piper and raising my eyebrows.
"Neither do I," she agrees.
"You mean…" Phoebe's gaze is locked on Chris' small face. "Wow. This is amazing. And for you two not to see it…" She swallows. "He looks just like you both."
Piper lets out a strange-sounding laugh at these words. "Like us? You've got to be kidding me, Phoebe. He's been Up There for like, ever. There's no way…"
"No, really. Look at him. Really look at him. He totally looks just like you guys."
My face hardens. "You can't possibly be suggesting that we're related, Phoebe. You know what happened to our second son. He was kidnapped. Killed. We all know that by now. It's been seven years."
"Of course I know that," she says. "You disappeared afterwards, didn't you?" She turns to Piper before I can react to the coldness in her statement. "Don't you think he looks like you both? Seriously."
"Well…" Piper says uneasily. "Sort of. But he couldn't possibly be…you know. Don't lose control of your imagination there, Pheebs."
She rolls her eyes. "I am not," she insists. "Here. Let me take him up to Wyatt's room. Alone," she adds before I can follow her.
"Be careful," I warn. "I'm sure Piper explained—"
"Yes, she did. I can assure you I won't let anything happen to him, got it?" She turns back to Chris. "Come on, little guy, we're going back up to Wyatt's room." She takes his hand and for a moment he looks a bit confused, maybe even taken aback. Hope surges through me. I was right—Phoebe's getting a better reaction out of him than anyone else is, that's for sure.
Phoebe
It's totally strange, taking the hand of this boy. When I was standing right next to him, it was almost as if there was some unbreakable emotional barrier all around him. No matter how I tried to pry into his mind, I was bounced back out. Now, holding his hands and being a lot closer to him, I can almost feel whispers of fear and apprehension.
Almost. But not quite.
This poor kid really has been brainwashed by the elders, I think to myself. I feel terrible for this child, being forced to live such a miserable life. How could anyone be so cruel to do this to small children? I thought the elders had morals, with all their insisting that everything was done for a greater good.
Laying eyes on this boy, I decide that the greater good is definitely full of crap.
I motion for him to sit on the bed and for a moment he hesitates before giving in and sitting down. He sits up straight, eerily poised. Most kids his age would slouch. In fact, I preferred the slouching. This was creepy.
"Okay," I say cheerfully, "so your name is Chris?"
"Yes."
His voice is even and void of emotion. I shiver despite the summer heat.
"Well, then, my name is Phoebe. I'm Piper's sister." Still holding his hand, I can tell that he's a bit confused by these words. "Piper's the woman downstairs," I clarify, "and the man is Leo." No wonder they haven't had any success so far, I think to myself. Honestly, they haven't even introduced themselves to him yet.
I take my hand away from his and immediately feel taken aback by the barrier that forms between us. Finding out more about this kid is going to be difficult, I can tell.
"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" I ask him.
When he looks at me, it's as if he's seeing through me. His eyes are eerily gray colored, but something's telling me that that's not the way they truly are. It's almost as if he's wearing a mask.
"Exactly," he agrees.
It takes me a moment to realize that he's read my mind, and it obviously takes him a moment to realize that he's spoken out of free will. He flinches as if expecting to be hit at any random moment and returns to his normal stance when he figures out that the hit won't come.
"You're okay here. You don't need to worry," I assure him. "No one's going to hurt you here."
I wait patiently, letting the silence bounce back at us for a few minutes. "You are different," he finally says hesitantly. After another pause he works up the courage to speak again. "You are not like them."
I smile at the progress I'm making. "That's right. I'm a witch, too, but I'm an empath. That means I can feel emotions—and sometimes I have premonitions of the past and future."
He stares down at the carpet. "I have no past. There are only elders."
I give him a little hug, but he's stiff in my arms, considering the gesture foreign. "You do have a past," I insist. "That's what I'm here for. We're going to find out where you really belong."
Staring at this little boy, his resemblance to Piper and Leo so prominent in my mind, it's a great mystery I can't wait to solve—finding where he belongs, that is. My heart is telling me that he belongs here, or maybe with me. I feel a strange attachment to him, as if there's some burden of knowledge we're both forced to bear together.
"You—you're a witch," I finally manage to conclude.
This gets his attention. "I am a lighter. I am trained to protect witches."
"But—you know what I was thinking. You're a telepath. That means you have a Wicca power, Chris. That makes you a witch." I pause to think, wondering where the proof is. "You were taken Up There because of the enormous power the elders felt in you. You're a witch. That's why…that's why I can't read you as well. You're an empath, too."
"I could not be. I am only a lighter."
"That means you might have other powers, too," I ramble on. "The elders just probably never trained you in them. Do you know what this means?" I stop myself. Of course he doesn't know what it means. He doesn't know anything about the baby that Piper and Leo lost all those years ago.
"No. I do not," he admits. I smile. As monotone like and mechanical his voice is, it's still childish and small, like a seven-year-old's would be. But maybe I'm the only one that can tell.
"It means…" I try to explain, but shake my head. "Open your mind to me," I instruct.
For a moment it looks as if he's concentrating to follow the command, then stops. "I cannot. It is forbidden."
"Not on earth, it isn't. I want you to open your mind to me. It may be the only way we can find your past."
"I will try," he promised me. His eyes closed in masked determination. Carefully, I take my hand and place it on his forehead, waiting for several moments before my intrusion on his thoughts.
However, I don't find myself reading his mind. I'm swirling into a premonition of the past. In the picture forming in my mind, I'm in the nursery. It's the same nursery that Wyatt grew up in, only here there's a crib and a cradle.
Wyatt, about two years old, is standing in the crib, peeking into the cradle from the railings. In the cradle is the baby that never had the chance to grow up in the manor. I'm so close to the infant in the premonition I can reach out and touch him, but something holds me back. There's an awareness somewhere within me that something important is about to happen. I need to watch carefully.
A flurry of blue orbs appears beside the cradle. I step out of the way, finding myself face-to-face with Gideon.
Wyatt opens his mouth to howl, but Gideon flashes him a glare so harsh that the toddler is immediately silenced. "You are not the one I want," he hisses, gathering the baby up in his arms. "Say good-bye to your little brother, Wyatt." Then he lets out a sinister cackle, orbing away with the sleeping baby in his arms.
As soon as the orbs dissipate, Wyatt releases an ear-shattering shriek, alarming the entire family. I don't need to stay any longer—I know what happens next. I was there. We were all too late.
I feel myself slowly being released from the nursery and brought back into the real world. Chris is still sitting on the bed, though for a change his eyes are wide and green as if he may cry.
"You could not save me, either," he says quietly. "They always take me."
The plot thickens...lol. I'll update as soon as I can! Thank you all again!! You all ROCK! lol