Part Three: Cut Adrift

Chapter Two

Chris's first period was a study hall, run in a relaxed fashion by Professor Max Franklin. So when Chris ducked in late and scurried to his seat next to Vincenta, he got a mild "That's a warning, Chris" and no more. Chris knew that if he made it a chronic offense, Franklin would eventually take action, but at this point, nearing the end of the school year, there was hardly time left to make tardiness a habit. He wasn't worried. And though Chris was sure it wasn't favoritism — all students got the same leeway — there was no denying the teacher had extra affection for a Halliwell. Back when Franklin had been a kid himself, Aunt Prue had saved his life.

"You will not believe what's going on here," Vincenta whispered as Chris slid into his seat.

It became clear that even if Franklin had been concerned about Chris's late arrival, he was too occupied to pay much attention just now. For up at the front of the classroom, looking very pleased with himself, was Joe Lasota.

For a span of time last fall, Joe had been the bane of Chris's school existence, targeting him for humiliation and abuse. The means included everything from a rather serious attempt to bind Chris's Whitelighter powers to the trivial but very public spell that raised Chris's voice to a squeak. Chris had not told his family what was going on, though the couple times he had to ask his mother to reverse a spell certainly raised suspicions. He had begun to get very skilled at the art of avoidance when the incident occurred that put a stop to it: Joe dared to try something with Wyatt present.

In retrospect, Chris wondered if he had been only bait. Joe had wanted to take on Wyatt. Wyatt — who was more than a year older than Joe and was more powerful than any witch alive. So Joe was an idiot — and a coward, so Wyatt said: "He wouldn't take me on face-to-face." Instead, he had been taking Chris on, always using surprise-attack spells — but that last time, Wyatt had been nearby.

That spell — whatever it was, Chris never found out — caused actual physical pain, knocking him to the ground, where he was only partially aware of the ruckus that followed. A crowd gathered; Wyatt used some kind of orbing telekinesis move that sent Joe flying into a wall. And like a nearby bowling pin, Phoebe's daughter Penelope fell too, breaking her wrist.

It was an accident, but Phoebe called it an overreaction on Wyatt's part. She got herself so worked up about it that she called in Merlin. So that had all started there.

But Joe's torment of Chris had ended. He really was a coward, and an open confrontation with Wyatt, as opposed to his subterfuge attacks on Chris, had taught him to back off.

This morning, however, Joe had the look of someone with newfound confidence.

"Turns out," Vincenta told Chris, "he's developed an active power."

"As if Joe with passive powers wasn't bad enough."

"Exactly."

"So what's the power?"

Vincenta rolled her eyes. "We don't know yet. He's going for the big reveal, I think."

Joe wasn't immediately successful at that. Chris guessed he was trying to use the power while looking cool, and that wasn't how it worked. Suspicions were confirmed when Joe grimaced with noticeable frustration, and that finally produced results. Voices in the class yelped and gasped as a wall display caught fire. Franklin jumped up, ripped off his academic robe and beat the fire out.

With more annoyance than Chris had ever heard from him, Franklin said, "That's the kind of power you don't play around with, Joe. You should have warned me." He took a deep breath. "How did this happen? Firestarters normally show that ability as young children — but you just developed this?"

Joe shrugged. "I don't understand it myself, Professor."

"Why don't you take the study period, go report this to the Headmaster."

He left, but returned before the period ended — apparently just to be sure he could accost Chris in the hallway.

"Watch yourself, Chris."

"What, are you going to set me on fire?"

"Would I do something like that?" he protested. "That would be dangerous. All I'm saying is that your brother might find me less easy to take on. And then baby brother will be left without any protection." He sauntered away, laughing with some friends.

"Oh please," Vincenta said. "Whatever you want to say about Wyatt, the last thing that would intimidate him is that little squirt."

And hour later, Wyatt's term was more direct.

"That little shit."

Chris hadn't gone running to his brother. The school rumor mill — and Joe's vocal hubris — had spread the word effectively.

"He needs to be taught a lesson," Wyatt growled, "since the first one obviously didn't take."

"Wyatt, I can handle him."

"I'm not saying you can't, little brother. But he's going around yakking about how he can take me. With one pathetic power he doesn't even know how to control? This has nothing to do with you — it's my reputation. Okay, it's got a little to do with you. But we can both handle him. Keep alert, give him one good TK and he'll be running scared from you too." As a demonstration, Wyatt flicked his hand in a playful imitation of his brother, before walking off.

Wyatt did not immediately go to his next class. Instead, he ducked into an empty room and pulled out his cell phone (a recent benefit of his mother wanting him reachable) and placed a call. He had concocted a plan earlier that morning, but this new business with Joe could make it more interesting. Either way, for once, he was going to need some help for the plan to work.

Just before lunchtime, Wyatt cornered Joe alone.

"You've been telling everyone about your new power. Showing it off."

Joe squared his shoulders and tried to look imposing — an impossible feat next to Wyatt, who was large for his age and whose confidence was effortless. But Joe tried. "Are you here to test me out?" he asked.

"Not in the way you think. You're going to help me."

Joe snorted with scorn and made a move to leave, but Wyatt blocked his way.

"So you have a new power. You want to prove to me what a big man you are. Try proving that you can use that power the way witches are supposed to. Against demons."

As Wyatt had guessed, curiosity and lure of competition were quickly overcoming Joe's good sense, if he had any to overcome.

"You see this?" From a pocket, Wyatt pulled the ornate half-sphere Phoebe had given him, and lightly tossed and caught it before holding it in front of Joe's face. "It has a mate. If demons get hold of them, and put them together, bad things happen. We have to recover the other half. I have a general idea of where it is. We can go together, and once we're there, whoever finds it first …"

"Gets what?"

"The reward of a job well done. For you, a little evidence that you're not just a schoolyard braggart who couldn't win a fair fight if he tried. Do you just want to stick to beating up on Whitelighters, or do you think you can handle a demon or two?"

Joe made a show of distrust, but Wyatt could see he was willingly walking into the trap.

"Okay, you're on."

So easy, Wyatt thought.

Joe continued, "So when are we —"

Wyatt grabbed the other boy's arm and said just before orbing him along to Golden Gate Park: "Now."