Part One: Below the Light
Chapter 6
"Ah, see, she is reviving."
Bianca opened her eyes and realized she was in her own bed. Standing over her in the night-darkened room were her mother and the person who had been speaking. Using "person" loosely — she was not sure what exactly this craggy, squinting creature was.
"How do you feel?" her mother asked.
"Better." Bianca looked at her bandaged arm and wrinkled her nose. Whatever medicine had been applied, it smelled foul.
The creature said, "You can remove the bandages and wash off the potion in twelve hours."
"Good," her mother said. They moved away to the door and Bianca could see her mother pay the creature, who then seemed to dissolve into the air. "According to the shaman," her mother said, "you were poisoned by a low-level amount of Manticore venom. What happened?"
Bianca sat up on the edge of the bed; she wished she had had time to come up with a lie. She had been told to track Wyatt Halliwell, not engage him. Though he had called her forward, she knew very well she could have shimmered away, leaving him and his companion in that pit. Bianca decided that it would be better to come off as incompetent than disobedient, so she said:
"He found me out. It was because of an accident. The demon he was with — the one who did this to me — slipped while I was hidden nearby and he took me down with him. I was exposed, and Wyatt attacked."
"And you fought back. You didn't try to escape."
"It kept him occupied for a little bit," she protested. "I thought that's what you wanted."
"All I wanted was for you to alert me if the target was in Wyatt's presence. Do you know why?" Bianca nodded with barely concealed impatience, but her mother continued: "Because I'm not sure I can take on Wyatt Halliwell if he is there to protect his brother. I doubt you could either, which is why you were supposed to stay safely out of his sight."
"The target did show up," Bianca offered. She immediately regretted it, by the look on her mother's face. She added hastily, "But I tried to take advantage of the situation. I tried to get him, I conjured an athame, but …" She realized she was proving her mother's point. "Wyatt orbed it away and the younger one was unharmed. That's when I left," she ended lamely.
"So, not only did you not do what you were asked, you attacked Chris Halliwell, which will put his family on the alert that he may be threatened — making my job that much more difficult! No, don't make any more excuses. Stay here in your room while I go to see if I can talk my way out of this mess with my employer."
With that her mother shimmered out.
Bianca's head was still spinning a little. Was that the venom? Or maybe just the stench of the medicine. With a groan, she flopped back on the bed, and waited for her mother to return.
Not long after, Bianca's mother was escorted into her employer's study, where he stood, pensive and grim, staring out a window at the city lights. His residence was slightly less well-appointed than what she was used to seeing with demons who had chosen to live above ground – but only slightly. What he lacked in opulence he made up for with carefully subdued tastefulness.
He didn't turn to her when he spoke. "Don't bother to explain. I already know about this afternoon's debacle."
"I promise you this can be fixed. The family may be extra protective of the younger boy now, but …"
"They may indeed," he said. "I can only hope that the disinformation I've spread — that Wyatt was the target — will be believed."
"If I may say, I can't understand why you are concerned with the younger one," she said carefully. "He's certainly weaker, while Wyatt — well, you know, the Twice-Blessed Child, Heir of Excalibur …"
She trailed off as he finally turned toward her, frowning as if he were not entirely sure she was speaking English.
"It's unusual, that's all," she added.
"Of course," he said, almost to himself. "You may be right. I've been going about this the wrong way altogether." He left his reverie and said more briskly, "I have to give this some thought. In the meantime, your services are no longer needed. Your job is canceled. Leave the younger boy alone. Consider him under my protection, even. I may need him alive."
"Of course. I understand."
"I would strongly suggest that you not use a job for me as a training opportunity for your daughter again. Do that on your own time. When I want to hire her, I will."
The woman could hardly believe what he was saying. She had come fully prepared to plead for her daughter's life, taking on her own shoulders whatever punishment came. But no punishment, aside from this mere firing, was meted.
She realized she had been gingerly backing toward the door to freedom when her employer — now former — said with annoyance, "Get out."
He returned to the window, as she quickly, gratefully, obeyed.
Piper crept down the hall past the boys' rooms. The days' events — or the boredom of an enforced Saturday night at home — had apparently wiped them out, and they were sleeping. The light shone from under Chris's door, but when Piper checked on him, he was asleep with the books and papers for his school project scattered around him on the bed. She picked them up, stacking them on the night table, and turned out the light as she closed the door behind her.
She went to join her husband in their bedroom.
"Your younger son," she told him, "was able to sense Wyatt and find him when they were down there."
"That's good."
"No, Leo — for the first time."
He looked mildly surprised. "I thought … I guess I supposed he already knew how."
"Oh my god. Please don't say that to him."
"What? He didn't tell me."
"Did you ask?" she lightly scolded him.
"I ask him things, I do, and I get monosyllabic answers. Besides, when it comes to asking him about his powers or trying to help him with anything magical …"
"I know, he thinks we're comparing him to Wyatt."
"No, he thinks I'm comparing him to Wyatt. How do you get off the hook?"
"Believe me, I don't. Okay, maybe more than you do. But he's thirteen. It'll pass."
After a moment of silence, Leo spoke again, more somber, "And what about Wyatt? I wonder, will whatever is happening with him pass?"
"What do you think is happening with him?" Piper demanded, though less of her husband than of the universe at large. "He was held in the Underworld for months by a demon, which we don't think he can remember, but now he's going down there vanquishing anything that moves." Her throat was tight, and it was an effort to keep her voice low. "We are not going to lose him, Leo," she said fiercely. "It is not going to happen. If I have to resurrect the demon that did this to him and kill it again to put this rest, I will do it."
Early the next morning, Merlin entered Penka's lair to find the demon even more petrified than usual.
"You've got to protect me from him," Penka said without preamble. "He knows I know."
"Who knows you know what?"
"The Elder! I read your thoughts about him, and he saw."
"Not even an Elder can 'see' you read someone's mind, Penka."
"Maybe not, but he could see my expression. It was a bit difficult to keep a poker face when I realized what you know."
"And what do you think I know?"
"That the Elder kidnapped that kid when he was a toddler and held him for months in the Underworld, trying to kill him. That the family thinks it was some unknown demon, but it was the Elder, and he got away with it, and now he knows that I know!"
"Penka, calm yourself …"
"No! I won't be calm until you do something to protect me!"
"I'll see what I can come up with. But you have little cause for worry. I sincerely doubt that Gideon was drawing any conclusions about you other than distaste for having a demon in his school."
"Yeah," Penka said contemptuously, "and here I am, never actually having tortured a two-year-old. Why do I have to be the one running scared?"
"It's sometimes dangerous, being on the side of good."
Penka shot the wizard a deeply offended look. "Excuse me! I am not. I'm evil.
"Indeed," Merlin said, failing to suppress a smile.
"You claim to be on the side of good — what I don't get is why don't you tell them what you know? Especially when you know what happens to them in the future. It's nothing good, not for them, or for any of us, for that matter."
"Penka, you have said yourself that you find it difficult to fully comprehend my thoughts, because of my human half, and because I have means of blocking you to some degree. I will only say that suspicions are not facts, and unlike you — or the Halliwell family — I can see the bigger picture. Now, I need to know what you have learned."
"They're not after the Halliwell boy anymore. I mean, you know, aside from the usual 'I'm gonna kill the Charmed One's son' bluster that I hear all the time. But the assassin has been called off."
"Who hired her in the first place?"
Penka sighed and shrugged apologetically. "I never found out."
Leo had been called away in the morning, and had spent a good part of the day with one of his other charges, those never-met people who were the Whitelighter duties that took him away. For how much time — that went in phases, it seemed to Chris, whenever the Elders decided to load his father's docket up. Over the past week or so, Chris had wondered if another phase of absence was starting up.
To finish his paper for Professor Franklin's class, Chris had commandeered the dining room table. He was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel — he would get this done by the deadline after all — when he heard the sound of orbing from the kitchen. Moments later, his dad walked into the dining room.
"How's the project going?"
Chris barely looked up, tapping at the laptop in front of him. "Almost done," he said.
Leo smiled awkwardly and nodded. He made a move to walk out — then stopped.
"Hey, your mom told me you were able to sense Wyatt in the Underworld."
"Yeah," Chris admitted.
"And you figured it out on your own?"
Leo didn't seem to be leaving. Chris sighed and stopped typing. "Yes. I kinda had to, once you guys summoned our guide away."
"Sorry about that. We were trying to find you, not leave you stranded."
"How'd you find out about Penka anyway?"
"You left the Book of Shadows open to that page."
"Oh." Chris almost returned to work, but his dad kept talking.
"So, you didn't need him. You found Wyatt on your own. How did you do it?"
"Uh, tried to act peaceful, think about Wyatt. That didn't really work at all. Then I just … somehow knew, you know?"
Leo smiled. "I know. I'm not sure I could have taught you how to do that, Chris, but if there's anything you ever need to learn —"
"Okay," Chris cut him off, then again, more kindly, "Okay." He added sheepishly, "I can't think of anything right now. I probably won't until I'm in trouble again."
"Well, if you're in trouble again, you just call for me, and I'll be able to hear you, because you won't be in the Underworld — right?"
"Man, I hope I won't have to go down there again. Ugh. The smell. It was disgusting."
"It's actually not like that everywhere. Not that you should check it out —"
"Got it," Chris emphasized, but with some humor. "I guess it's true the smell wasn't so strong when I moved to wherever Wyatt was."
"Do you have any idea what part of the Underworld you were in? What was it like?"
"The deserted part? I mean, that's where Penka took us. I don't think he knew where he was going. That is the last time I ask a demon for help, I swear. Even if Grams used him to get information, I …"
Chris was interrupted by another ring of orbing: His aunt Paige materialized, holding a small old book, her finger marking a page. She said brightly, "Hey! I found a possibility on that rumor about somebody being after Excalibur – and consequently, maybe after Wyatt, too. Check it out."
She flipped the book open on the counter and pointed to a yellowing page with a drawing of an imperious, robed female. " 'The Fortalice.' It says here that in Arthur's time, this demon made numerous attempts to gain possession of the sword, to keep it out of the hands of its rightful heir."
"Did you show this to Merlin?" Leo asked.
"Yes. He said he had never heard of her," she admitted. "Then he got huffy because the book says he's a myth."
"We know that's not true, so how accurate is anything else in here?"
"It's not like we haven't heard the 'Merlin's a myth' thing before – like from that Mordaunt guy."
"Who was evil and trying to get Excalibur for himself, so he had reason to lie."
"All right, all right. I'm not saying we should ignore all other suspects. I'm just putting this one out there, okay?" She stopped, finally noticing that Chris had snapped the laptop shut and started stacking his papers on top of it. "Oops. Sorry, Chris, we are kind of intruding here. Didn't mean to barge in while you're trying to work."
Her nephew paused before replying, looking from his aunt to his father, whose expression was mildly expectant. Chris picked up his things and said, "No, it's fine; I was finished anyway." And he walked out.
"Okay," Paige said dubiously, then was startled by Leo's inarticulate sound of self-recrimination.
"Damn it!" he said in an undertone.
"What? What did I miss?"
"Oh, before you got here, Chris and I were talking – actually having a real conversation for once, and you showed up and I … got distracted. It's not your fault; you didn't know. But I should have let him finish talking, and now …" He gestured rather helplessly at the door where his son had departed.
"Well, Dad, you can't be perfect all the time. But give yourself a break. You've had to deal with a lot lately, with these rumors about Excalibur, with what happened yesterday. Which, by the way, how did that all work out?"
"According to Merlin, it's all fine," Leo said. One problem to the next. "He told us this morning that his sources said the threat to Wyatt has been called off for now."
"And Wyatt?"
"He said he wouldn't go to the Underworld any more."
"Do you think he will?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. He made a promise, and I believe him when he says he means to keep it."
If he never heard the word Excalibur again, it would be too soon. Let the demons take it, part of Chris wished.
After carelessly depositing his laptop and papers on his bed, Chris decided to leave his still-unfinished work behind. He was annoyed enough to be too distracted to think or write about goblins now, and he orbed up to his favorite spot to be alone, get away from his family and clear his head: a corner of the Manor's roof, overlooking the backyard.
The wind made him shiver a little and pull his jacket around him, but the afternoon was clear and beautiful, and he could take the cold for the view and the solitude.
Until it was interrupted. Sort of. On the ground below, Wyatt walked out of the back door, carrying a basketball. A few years back, Leo had set up a hoop on one end of the patio, creating something like a court, which just now was cluttered with a table and chairs, a few planters, and other evidence of summer left behind. Wyatt stood in the middle of it all, seeming to consider it before orbing everything to the sidelines, clearing the "court."
"Personal gain," Chris muttered.
Wyatt shot a few baskets before he paused, holding the ball, and said without looking up, "Why don't you come down and play, Chris?"
Chris orbed down, appearing in front of his brother, arms crossed, with only one thing to say: "I thought you didn't want me around."
"That's not what I said."
"That's what you meant."
"No, it's not."
Wyatt's evident amusement only aggravated Chris further. "Whatever," he said, but before he could orb back up, he was forced to catch the basketball that Wyatt suddenly tossed at him.
"Get over it. If I didn't want you here I wouldn't have asked you to get down off the roof. Besides, you still need practice for the day when you're actually tall enough to have a chance against me in this game."
With a look that clearly said he wouldn't be forced into enjoying it, Chris began to dribble the ball and try to make his way toward the hoop. It was too low now; they were both outgrowing it, even Chris. At least playing against each other offered some challenge. Wyatt secretly went a little bit easy on his brother. Just a little. Not so much that Chris didn't have to work for it. But this afternoon, Wyatt had a different plan in mind.
From the opposite end of the patio, he made as if to try a long shot to the hoop — but then unexpectedly threw the ball straight up into the air. With a wordless gesture, Wyatt orbed it out of its flight path, sending it directly above the hoop.
"Hey!" Chris shouted indignantly as he ran down the "court" toward the hoop. He flicked his own hand in an upward gesture, and the ball skittered against the rim before falling outside it. Chris caught it, jumped, and made the basket through nonmagical means. "Yes!"
Wyatt grinned at his brother's triumph. "See, it turns out you can use your powers on the fly. Don't think — act. That's what it takes."
"I got it, Yoda. Any other lessons you want to teach me by cheating?" But Chris was laughing as he spoke, and they took up their one-on-one again as Wyatt replied.
"I wasn't cheating. I was inventing a new game: Halliwell Magic Basketball." He dribbled down the right, stopped short for a jump shot and continued: "Paige and I could do the orbing TK thing, and you can use the regular kind. Phoebe can make the baskets pretty easily if she levitates …"
"… and she can tell us how we all feel about every point scored," Chris snickered, trying to fake out his brother with a double pump — which Wyatt handily blocked.
Chris growled at being thwarted, and Wyatt intoned, "I sense that you're very frustrated."
After that remark, they were not only breathless with exercise, but with laughter, too.
"I want Mom on my team," Chris declared, "because we could make a good freeze-then-TK play. Plus, if Dad was on your team, she could freeze him if he was just about to score a point."
"Talk about cheating. But I'm wondering how blowing things up will come in handy?"
"Um … not sure. Maybe just to get our revenge if we lose."
"Which you would."
"Which we wouldn't. We would so kick your ass."
For tonight, there would be no supernatural moves in this Halliwell Magic Basketball game. Just arms darting and legs jumping, laughter and the sound of sneakers on the flagstones. The twilight deepened until they could barely see the hoop and their mother turned on the porch light and called them inside.
End of Part One
Author's Note: Huge thanks to Toni, my basketball beta reader! She saved my sports-clueless self from looking like an idiot, and made it all sound much more natural. And if I still messed up, it's my fault, not hers. And thanks again to Bluley, for asking the best questions. I hope all the Leo scenes are adequate repayment!
And as I mentioned in my note in Chapter 1 when I changed the story's title, I'm turning "Below the Light" into simply Part 1 of a longer story. Stay tuned for more…