Part 5
He orbed halfway across the globe, across the plains, over the Atlantic Ocean and past several small islands before coming to his destination.
It was a world unlike the one he had left behind. The air fizzled with magic, like bubbles rising in a glass of soda, making his skin tingle. The surrounding forests were old, their trees reaching up above to the heavens. Mountains stood tall with their snow peak caps, obscured by the mists swirling above. It was chillier than in warm San Francisco. The leaves on the branches and twigs were turning to golden-browns and reds, already covering the forest floor with their colors. The sign of the beginning of the coming frost. Winter arrived here much faster than the other side.
Leo absently wished he had brought his jacket along. He wasn't freezing yet but it was really cold. His breaths came out in small mists before his face as he made his way up a familiar path, between the tall trees, past a stream and into a large clearing.
A quaint English cottage stood in the center, smoke puffing out from the twin chimneys on the straw-thatched roof. Sunlight glinted off the lattice windows. A tiger tabby lay dozing on the window sill next to a flower pot. It lifted its head at the sound of his arrival, stretched lazily, and jumped off the sill into the house.
The paint on the door was chipped and faded. It was foreboding and inviting at the same time. Leo hesitated, then raised a fist and rapped firmly on the surface smartly. He would have orbed in but it was manners to make one's presence known first.
"Come in," a voice called out from inside. He entered with some trepidation, anticipation and some other emotions doing cartwheels in in his stomach .
The inside of the house was what he had remembered. Cosy and homely. It was warmly lit by the fire burning away in the fireplace and the torches along the walls, giving the room a warm, ocher glow. A bookcase lined one wall with books and several knick-knacks. An antique lamp sat on a side table next to the worn-out armchair. A low coffee table was littered with more books and several pieces of paper and a bowl with fruit. The tiger tabby had settled itself on the mismatched couch, leaving the other armchair free. From the middle of the room, Leo could see the rickety stairs leading up the first floor landing of the house, and he could see the shelves lined up, filled with books. Here was another mark of wisdom: one could never have too many books.
"It's been a while, Leo Wyatt. What brings you all the way from Elderland to here?" came a voice from his right as the owner stepped out from the small hidden alcove.
The woman was in her mid-fifties with greying hair, but she still stood straight in a stance that reminded Leo that she was not to be underestimated. The gold bracelets on her wrists jangled as she wrapped a knitted shawl around her shoulders securely. Her fathomless black eyes turned to him.
"Hello Shamala."
Shamala Leila nodded, waving a hand at him, an invitation for him to sit on the battered couch. "You were always one to beat around the bush, Leo. Always starting things with a preamble before getting to the point."
She seated herself at one of the armchairs, eyeing him as he sat down on the couch. She gave a flick of her wrist and the low coffee table had a tea tray on top with the customary teapot, cups, saucers and a plate of biscuits. The tiger tabby hissed at Leo's sudden intrusion on its spot on the couch and jumped off, tail swishing, to disappear into the kitchen.
"Come, this isn't any social visit," she said, allowing a small smirk on her face at his surprised expression. "I know you, Leo. You haven't been here in over twenty-five years and suddenly, lo and behold! You just appear out of nowhere."
"I didn't appear out of nowhere. I orbed," Leo objected, continuing the banter they'd shared all those years ago as though he'd seen her only yesterday.
"Ah, yes. Such a way to travel." Shamala Leila dismissed his mild protest, then told him with a look that she knew a visit from him was serious, and that he could dispense with their peculiar form of pleasantries.
"It's my son." His brows furrowed as he came straight to the point. "My youngest. A demon came to our place, attacked my family, and made off him today."
"It was coming for your first born, actually." Shamala noted the surprise on his face. "The demon was supposed to take Wyatt but instead it took Christopher. Beggars can't be choosers, as they say. And that boy is no slouch himself, considering who his old man and mother are. He's got good blood." She paused and nodded to herself."Good blood. That is what they usually want, after all."
"Then you know who's behind it?" Leo demanded.
"I do not know; I only assumed." The woman looked slightly offended. "I do not have the gift of foresight. I believe I do know that you have an inkling of who it might be."
Back at Magic School, something had tickled Leo's memories at the mention of the demon. Something vaguely familiar that was at the back of his mind, but no matter how much he tried to recall it, it just remained out of reach, frustratingly out of his grasp. Only one thing had come to mind. The name Shamala Leila. He had left the sisters then, knowing Piper was going to launch into one of her tirades once he got back to them for leaving them grasping straws once more.
"It's at the back of my mind," he admitted. "But I can't seem to fit the pieces together. There's something about this place and you, it's like -- it's like it's connected somehow..."
Shamala Leila nodded, an odd expression on her face as she studied him somberly. Leo watched her carefully. Contrary to popular belief that he was often oblivious, he was actually rather sharp and perceptive. He could see the way his friend's shoulders had stiffened, could see the conflicting emotions in those wise eyes.
"There is a connection isn't there?" he asked, suddenly feeling a dread in the pit of his belly. A part of him was wildly excited that he was getting a break but the other part was... afraid, quaking at the impending words.
The witch finally stood up, standing before him. "Are you prepared for this, Leo Wyatt?" she asked softly, her burr accenting her words. "It will not be pleasant. There will be things that you'd rather not see or hear."
Leo squared his jaw, pushing the irrational fear away. "My son's life depends on this, on you and your answers."
"Very well." Shamala Leila nodded gravely.
And Leo was suddenly falling into a never-ending darkness.
Leo found himself at a meadow. The sun was shining brightly down on him but he felt no heat from its rays. While the leaves rustled in the unseen breeze, he felt no wind. It was eerily silent and still, with not so much as the sounds of chirping birds or insects. He took a cautious step forward and halted when he saw a figure darting out from the trees to the field dotted with wildflowers.
It was a small girl of five or so with long dark curls. She wore a yellow pinafore over her white blouse and brown sandals. Her eyes shone with some happiness and the carefree feeling of a child. Her mouth was turned upward in a laugh,
yet Leo didn't hear any sound coming from her. It was as if someone had taken the TV remote and muted all sounds.
Another figure came out from the shadow of the trees, a woman with familiar brown eyes and dark hair. The sunlight glinted off her gold bracelets. She wore a warm smile on her face as she watched the child run and dance among the wildflowers. Leo recognized her at once. She looked years younger, more carefree, but he knew her.
It was Shamala Leila.
The scene changed to another, one in the late afternoon. The sun cast its final amber glow over the cottage. Shamala was standing by the door, still smiling as the child skipped down the path to the house. The girl was saying something to Shamala, her lips moving, but Leo couldn't hear the words or catch what she was saying. He stepped forward, wanting to get closer, when he saw a shadow move among the trees. Reptilian eyes glowed in the dusky light. In an instant, the shadow moved. Leo opened his mouth to shout out a warning to the two, but no sound came out.
It was a demon. A large brutish, hairless beast. It sprang towards the girl, grasping her with its large paw, digging its claws into her delicate skin, drawing a cry of terror and pain from her, and blood.
Leo could see Shamala scream, saw her lips moving as she recited a spell even as she ran towards where the girl and the demon were. The girl was crying, screaming, trying to get away from the demon's tight grasp.
The demon snarled furiously, not liking that its prey was fighting back against it. Its ears flattened on top of its head as it opened its jaw and spat at the woman coming at it. The acid hit her on the right shoulder and upper arm, eating away at flesh, exposing bone. Shamala screamed in agony, collapsing on the ground.
Leo found his feet moving on his own accord as he darted towards them, throwing out his arm, intending to shock the demon into letting go of the child. Nothing happened. "What the–?!" he exclaimed. His powers should have worked. He could only watch helplessly as the demon flashed out with the girl.
Bright lights made him lift his head up to see himself forming into solid form beside the hysterical Shamala. He took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief and mouth opened in an 'O'. What was happening? He watched as his double held out his hands over the woman's wound and started healing.
Several more lights appeared and he saw three Elders had orbed next to them, one of which was his old mentor. Gideon helped him with the healing. Once done, Shamala's face crumpled up and she burst into a fit of wailing, grasping hold of him as if he was her last lifeline. Leo saw the other Elders shaking their heads, converging in a small circle for a meeting on the situation. It lasted a few heartbeats before they turned to face the trio: Leo's past self, Shamala, and his mentor.
Leo couldn't hear what they were saying, but their faces were grim and serious, almost sad even. His mentor took his past self by the arm, said something to him, and they orbed away. One of the remaining Elders knelt by Shamala, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his mouth moving, probably saying something. Leo wished someone would turn off the mute button, this soundlessness was making him crazy. Not only that, the entire scene was making him confused.
He was about to try and see if he could get any of their attention when he felt himself being tugged away from the site.
He was falling head over heels in the same darkness again.
Leo suddenly found himself back at the same cottage except it was now midmorning. A different time and day. He could see everything was still the same, except it was not. The paint on the door had begun to chip away in flakes, peeling off. He stepped forward cautiously, confused as to why he was brought back here. He stopped when he saw his past self standing at the edge of the grove. There was such an infinite sorrow and despair on the face that it was nearly tangible.
Past Leo was wearing one of those flannel shirts he used to wear, a tatty shirt and even tattier jeans. His hair was mussed and grimy as if he hadn't washed it on days or weeks. There was the beginnings of a beard on his chin. His face looked haggard, the eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, the shadows under them, making them rather unflattering. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days.
Leo bit his lip, wondering what had happened to him during that time and how on earth he had let himself go like that. A memory of his two wartime buddies' spirits haunting him and his family came to mind, and he knew just how he could let himself go. That one time had been enough. But apparently, it wasn't the first time.
A violet light along with a sharp jangle appeared beside his past self. Past Leo didn't even twitch a muscle as the lights faded to reveal his mentor. The expression on the man's reminded Leo of a time when Gideon had always been understanding, caring and kind. He missed that Gideon.
"Leo," said Gideon.
Someone had heard him and had flipped the mute button off. He could now hear everything. He hurried closer, not wanting to miss everything.
"Thomas had to take care of your charges," Gideon said, as if having a pleasant conversation instead of trying to get his protege to pull himself together. "The poor man is running himself ragged in trying to get to your charges and his own."
Past Leo made no sound, merely staring at the cottage.
"Leo, please, you must pull yourself together." This time, Gideon's tone was firm but still kind. "Your charges need you. We need you. You cannot allow yourself to just– to just rot away like nothing. It was not your fault. You were tending to another charge that day."
"I came too late!" past Leo cried out, whirling around and meeting his mentor's eyes. "I heard her but I didn't come straight away! What kind of Whitelighter am I? Tell me!"
"Things happen, Leo," Gideon said patiently. "We cannot stop fate or destiny. The world doesn't just halt itself. It continues to move along."
"So, you're asking me to forget what happened? I can't– I can't ever forget what had happened!"
Leo flinched at the anguish in his past self's tone. He realized distractedly he had a tendency to beat himself up over everything.
Gideon let out a breath, patience thinning from his pupil's stubborness.
"The Elders have given you as much time as we can to recover from the incident, but time is running out. Thomas cannot keep up with the double workload and tend to his own charges as well as yours. Leo, I can't stand seeing you in such anguish, wallowing in guilt and sadness. But I see talking has no effect on you, so I have no other choice."
The Elder dipped his hand into the pouch in the pocket of his coat, fingering the tiny particles running between fingertips. He took a pinch and without warning, sprinkled them into Past Leo's face.
"Forgive me, my friend," he said. A golden light surrounded his protege, then it faded away. The man before him looked nothing like the man just now. There was serenity on his face.
"Gideon?" he asked, sounding bewildered. "What are you doing here? What am I doing here?"
"We're just about to leave," Gideon said. "Shamala always serves the best tea. Come, we'd best be going. I'm sure Thomas will be glad to be relieved of your charges."
"Why?"
Gideon chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. His words were cut off as he orbed them away from the place.
Leo stared at the spot where they had been minutes ago, his eyes stinging. He never did get to thank his mentor for that merciful act. He looked back at the cottage and suddenly found himself falling once more.
Leo gasped out loud, blinking away the wetness in his eyes as he came back to the present. He reached up with one hand to wipe at his face before looking up to see Shamala Leila before him. Older now, wiser, wrinkles at the corner of those eyes. There was an infinite sadness in those eyes now, a sorrow that Leo felt he could reach out and touch.
"I was there...? They– he - Gideon used memory dust, took away that memory."
"You were overwhelmed with guilt for months, for not being there," she said gently. "For having Sarala being taken."
The memories of the past rushed back. Leo remembered now. He had heard her screaming and orbed as fast as he could, arriving only to miss the demon and to see Shamala in pain and hysterics on the ground. He had gone to heal her then, trying to calm her down as she told him to ignore her and go after Sarala. Then the other Elders arrived, Gideon included among them.
"Gideon did not want you to live with such a memory," Shamala said. "He wanted to spare you the burden. He explained it to me, told me why you couldn't be my Whitelighter anymore, told me he allowed you to keep the memory of me but not of that day or anything of Sarala."
"He was the one who took away the memory of that day," Leo said. He remembered it well now. How he had let himself wallow in the sorrow, grief and despair, unable to deal with everything. He couldn't even tend to his charges. He remembered wanting to just crawl into a hole and stay there, or better yet, just die. Gideon had found him at the cottage, talked to him, tried to get him to pull himself together. As a last resort, Gideon had told him this was for his own good and memory dusted him free of that day.
Sarala, sweet, cheerful Sarala. Leo now remembered her. A bright child with a ready smile for everyone. How could he ever forget her? How could he ever forget something so important as that day? He felt sudden anger rising at the other Elders who had adamantly refused to let him know of the various disappearance of the children in the last two weeks or so. They knew all along how intimately connected he really was. He wanted to go back Up There and just blast them to hell and back, but held back. They could wait until later. His son could not.
"Shamala... I– I'm sorry, for that day," he said, remorse in his eyes.
"There is nothing to be sorry for, Leo Wyatt. It was not your fault and I do not blame you. I blamed myself for my carelessness." Shamala's face hardened when she saw he was about to drown in another round of guilt. "This is not the time to feel sorry or pity, Leo Wyatt. Christopher is in terrible danger. I have shown you what you seek, now it is up to you to follow the lead."
Leo nodded. On impulse, he embraced her fiercely. "I– Thank you for what you have shown to me."
"Go, now." The witch smiled at him sadly, pulling away from his hug.
"I'll come back to see you once this is over," he promised.
"Ah, you better bring that boy of yours along." Shamala smiled, the sadness fading slightly. "I want to see him in one piece, Leo Wyatt."
Leo nodded and orbed away, leaving behind the fading lights and chimes.
Shamala turned and looked down at her cat as it sat by her side and stared at her. "I hope he will not fall into the same fate as my Sarala did," she said softly.
The cat mewed at her in agreement. Together, owner and pet sat by the fireplace.
TBC...