2022 cont.
Lifting her leg, Bianca placed her foot squarely in the demon's abdomen, tugging its arm violently as she pulled back, hearing a satisfying crack as the bone popped from the socket, a squeal of pain erupting from its lips.
"I told you if you didn't give it to me, I wouldn't play nice," Bianca scolded. "Stop your whining; you asked for it."
Spinning herself in towards the demon, she positioned her hip against its body and threw it over her shoulder, another whimper sounding as it landed hard on the ground. Steadying herself, she straightened again, looking down coldly on the demon before her. Cocking her head to the side, she placed her hands on her hips as she walked slowly around it, keeping her eyes fixated on the same position the whole time.
"Now, what else can I do to show you what a bad decision you made by not co-operating?" she mused aloud. The demon made a move to get up and quickly Bianca leant forward, holding her palm flat over the top of it. "Uh, uh, uh, did I tell you to get up?"
Lifting herself back up slowly, she delivered a swift kick to the base of the demon's chin, knocking its head back, and with it the body fell back to the ground.
"Much better. Now where is it?" she queried.
The demon shook its head. Bianca pursed her lips, anger and irritation taking over her being. Swiftly grabbing its shirt as she crouched down, she brought her face closer to the demon's.
"Do you want to be in any more pain than you are?" she yelled.
"O-over there," the demon stammered. "Behind the loose rock in the w-wall, just left of the alter."
Glancing up to where the demon indicated, more than a few strides into what could almost be deemed a separate room in the dank cave, Bianca's eyes trailed back to the demon she held fast in front of her. Lifting her chin, she looked down on the demon in her grip with defiant power.
"Thanks," she said, releasing her fingers quickly, the demon's body falling back to the ground with a thump as she climbed to her feet.
Walking into the section the demon had indicated, Bianca circled the alter and ran her hand along the grey edges of the stone wall. Stopping before a section just off to the left, she faced the stone and dragged her left hand towards her right, ensuring she had felt out the correct stone, digging her fingers around it and shifting it forward, burrowing her fingers further back as she concentrated and tugged towards herself again. Finally pulling the stone free, she tossed it to the right of her feet, stooping a little to see inside the hole she'd just made.
"Why didn't I just blow that up?" she mused, thinking about the heavy stone she'd just removed and how an energy ball might have been the simple way of doing this.
Reaching into the hole, her arm sinking almost the full length inside, her hand fastened around a dark purple bag, soft to the touch as if it was made of velvet. Pulling it back, the cord intertwining in her fingers as she tried not to scrape her skin on the rock's surface, she yanked it from the opening and held it up before her. Using her free hand she briskly unfastened the cord and opened up the bag, looking inside to see that it indeed contained the very thing she was looking for. Hearing the clatter of the pointer against the wooden board as the bag moved, she dipped her hand in and pulled the spirit board halfway up out of the bag. It looked just like any other on the front, but the back had a special inscription to the three sisters carved into it. The Power of Three will set you free. They were all the words Bianca needed to read to know it was the right board. Dropping the spirit board back into the bag, she pulled tightly on the cord and fastened it securely around the neck of the bag.
"Now that's done…" she started.
Lifting her gaze towards the makeshift archway she had just walked through, she looked over the demon still lying on the ground. Satisfied that it wasn't going to give chase, she shimmered out. Reappearing in Wyatt's apartment, she looked around and saw he was nowhere to be seen. Walking towards his bedroom, she opened the door with a slight push from her palm, glancing to the left as she heard water running. Placing the bag down on the cushion of the sole overstuffed armchair in his room, she pushed aside the heavy green drapes to peer out the window momentarily before her eyes drifted to the large polished cabinet that stood proudly against one of the walls. No doubt his newly acquired sword took pride of place over his bed now, but all his former weapons and treasures lay inside this cabinet where he could easily access them yet also display them in their own threatening manner.
Bianca took a few steps towards the cabinet, looking over the weaponry with the kind of remarkable fascination that only one who would use them would show. Her eyes trailed down to the books slotted together in a neat row at the base, settling on one that was in a section all of its own, its hardbound cover resting comfortably against the solid oak cabinet wall. Glancing quickly at the closed door of the en suite, Bianca crouched down to take a closer look, her hand working the latch loose and opening up the glass door as she reached inside to pull out the aged tome. Holding it flat in her palm, she looked over the green cover – plain except for the single triquetra symbol positioned in the middle. Glancing up at the closed bathroom door again, the water still echoing through the walls, Bianca felt safe enough to be able to look through this book without being caught. Seating herself on the bed, she flipped open the cover, gently lifting the weather-beaten page to reveal the text inside. It was an innate description of the history of Melinda Warren and the Charmed Ones genealogy. Flipping through the pages she saw spells; descriptions and illustrations of various demons, ghosts, and otherworldly creatures – not much different from the Grimoire if she remembered correctly. But the thing she found most interesting lay towards the back of the book. It was a handwritten note titled: Tips For Future Whitelighters. Underneath the heading it was addressed: To my sons, Wyatt and Chris. Fumbling her brow, Bianca read further, continuing all the way to the bottom as she read: Know that love is the key to your healing hands. Understand that whatever happens in the future, there is good inside of you.
She did not hear the door open. She did not see Wyatt come out and find her reading the book, the one prized possession he owned, the only thing he had saved from the manor, the one thing he kept under lock and key so that nobody could touch it. Quickly he grabbed hold of the back cover and flipped it closed. Bianca hastily pushed herself from the bed, backing up to the other side of the room, her eyes firmly locked on Wyatt standing there only in a towel, watching and waiting for him to do something. Slowly he sat down on the bed, keeping his eyes on her as well. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, her breathing erratic as she bawled her hands into fists, seemingly preparing to defend herself from whatever attack she was expecting to receive.
"You weren't supposed to be reading this," Wyatt said diplomatically.
Bianca continued to stare at him, feeling like he could see right through her, that he could sense she was scared, that he knew all about how Michael liked to close books on her in search of something else. She couldn't show him weakness, Phoenix's didn't do that, and she knew if she did she would fall into another world of lies and betrayal. But here he was sitting before her anyway, defiant, already holding things back from her, and the only way she could cover up her vulnerability was to mask it with anger.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she snapped.
"I told you…" Wyatt began, looking down at the book in his hands.
"You didn't! You're holding things back from me," Bianca argued before he even had a chance to finish his sentence.
"Like what?" he shot back, looking up at her.
"Like Chris. Who's Chris?"
"Why do you want to know?" Wyatt asked, his tone both arrogant and annoyed as his expression darkened.
Chewing her lip, Bianca didn't want to admit to what she'd just been doing, not when she could clearly see he was irritated by it, even more so by her questioning but she had to do so or else he would expose everything that she'd quashed over the past few years. She was probably going to serve up more ammunition for him to punish her, to get rid of her, but she'd come too far now to deny having seen anything.
"He was in the book," she said.
"A lot of people are in the book," Wyatt retaliated, oblivious to what she had been reading, obviously searching for something behind the question of his identity that she didn't fully understand.
"Not with personal notes addressed to them they aren't. You're keeping things from me," she said. Feeling her cover beginning to slide, she quickly looked away from him. "I can't believe you're lying to me."
"I'm not keeping anything from you," Wyatt disagreed. "And I'm certainly not lying."
Bianca shifted her gaze back to look at him. "You told me you lost your family."
"I did. My father took off, and my brother and I are not exactly on the best of terms. In their own ways they have abandoned me; therefore they all are lost to me."
For a moment Bianca felt a pang of guilt at bringing all this up. To avoid her own dark past, she was forcing him to delve into his. This was hardly a conversation to be having with him when he was sitting there only in a towel. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, trying to think a way out of this conversation, trying to stop it before it went too far.
"Why are you being so suspicious?" Wyatt inquired. It was the only thing he needed to ask to step over that line into her personal boundary. Six simple words that opened up old wounds that wanted to let everything out.
"I don't like being deceived," Bianca said straightforwardly, hoping it was enough of an explanation, hoping that he'd now let her be.
"Is that why you left? The Phoenix did that to you?" Wyatt questioned further. As if to add less personal attachment to the questions, he focused his attention away from her - standing and adjusting his towel as he picked up the book, walking back over to the cabinet as he placed it back where she had taken it from.
"Everybody did," Bianca answered softly, turning towards the window as he looked towards her. She didn't want him to see anymore. She didn't want him to see that he had gotten to her. Feeling a hand wrap around her upper arm, almost encompassing her shoulder, she shook him off violently, her hand flying back defensively to hit him as she turned. "Don't touch me!"
"Bianca, what did they do?" Wyatt asked, his voice passive. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Don't," she said, shaking her head, willing herself not to break down but to go back to the cold unfeeling state she'd been in for so long. Wyatt lowered his head, his eyebrows lifting at the same time inquisitively, but he didn't say anymore for he could see now he had broken down her defence. "They made me kill."
"Ha, you do that now," Wyatt said, laughing the excuse away. Seeing her fasten her eyes closed he knew she wasn't giving the whole story away. "Nothing's changed there. I know that's not it. There's something more isn't there?"
Bianca opened her eyes, staring at him. She didn't answer him, she gave no indication whatsoever that he was right, but she was sure he could still read it in her eyes. Focusing on steadying her breathing, quieting her heart, making her eyes only shine not spill over with tears she thought she'd never be able to cry, she managed to get herself under control as she watched him grow more uncertain about his perceptions on her behaviour. His gaze shifting away from her in thought, he finally lifted his eyes back towards her with a renewed strength and a fresh approach.
"If you're going to trust anyone, Bianca, trust me," he said.
She believed him. Despite whatever reaction he'd had, despite whatever thought or feeling or comparison she had dredged up in connection to her past, she could see that they shared one thing – they shared the hurt of losing someone that they'd loved dearly, and the deception of the people who took everything away from them. But she couldn't tell him everything. She couldn't tell him that for every second she had known him she had compared him to Michael, because no matter what she was thinking she feared that if she let him know that, then he would turn out to be Michael.
"Someone took advantage of me…" she said slowly, finally divulging the reason she was hiding, the one that had initiated her escape. "Because he knew he could."
Trying to clarify what she meant in answers all too cryptic, Wyatt questioned. "In what way?"
"In every way," Bianca responded darkly, her eyes full of hate. The indifference she thought she had lost rushing back in a flood and covering everything she thought she had left open to him.
"It's interesting," Wyatt began, seemingly undeterred by her composure although fully aware she was at such a height of emotion that she was like a guard dog about to attack. Slowly he turned away, heading over to his chest of drawers. "That despite all the presupposition of the Phoenix's great assassin heritage, the marvel of them being able to rise from the ashes would bring such Neanderthal ideals with it into how they treat one another." Removing a few items of clothing from the drawer, he tossed them back on the bed as he looked over to her. "That's hardly a civilised way of living."
Bianca felt herself beginning to calm down as she watched him, his words easing her mind into the belief that he thought it was morally wrong as well.
"It's not going to be that way again," she said quietly, reassuring herself that she knew what she was doing, that she wasn't going to let him hurt her.
Wyatt's gaze crossed from her to the purple bag sitting in the armchair, his lips curving into a small smile. He didn't press any more on the subject instead focusing on the task he had assigned her, one she had completed competently and successfully.
"I appreciate your help in this - makes us one step closer to fulfilling a purpose. But," he glanced down at his clothes and then coyly back up to her, "if you don't mind."
Bianca nodded, shimmering back to her apartment and seating herself on the couch, resting her head in her hands as she tried to analyse everything that had just happened. She'd just let out almost her entire past to him, and she wasn't even sure how she had done it. For something that had only started with her prying into his life, she'd uncovered very little but he had found out a great deal about her. And she wasn't about to let him deceive her as so many others had.
Wyatt's collection soon outgrew his small apartment. He began to store things – larger and less personal items – in the spare rooms of Bianca's apartment. Not that she minded, the clutter made the place feel less empty, and now she felt as if having things that belonged to him was a step up in their partnership – she had something to bargain with in case he tried to forfeit the deal.
Bianca shimmered into Wyatt's apartment, glancing to the right as he orbed in beside her, a large chest bound securely in his arms.
"That proved to be slightly more difficult than I thought," Wyatt commented.
"I'm just glad you didn't want anything larger," Bianca said.
Wyatt tilted the chest back towards him so he could inspect the front, a green substance splattered across its face and sinking into the carvings of the square wooden box.
"If my family had been more organised, it might have been," Wyatt said, lowering the chest back into his hands to inspect the dusty lid. "I'm going to go clean this up."
Glancing at the TV, he lifted two fingers away from the chest and moved them slightly. The television screen blinked to life halfway through a local news program. Bianca stood and watched the telecast as Wyatt drifted to his bedroom, and probably to the en suite inside she presumed.
"Crime levels have hit an all-time high across San Francisco – thievery, murder, adultery – the San Franciscan Police Department are having difficulty keeping the numbers in their jails under control. Because of this businesses have started to resort to new measures of protection against what people have referred to as 'inhuman creatures' whose 'superhuman powers' have allowed their destructiveness to go unchallenged. A local inventor has come up with this device," the reporter said. Bianca's eyes shifted to the round device in the woman's hand. "Simply called a probe, it scans the DNA of located subjects and transmits back to the authorities the identities of criminals. It is currently being installed in all public places of interest, and in some large companies who feel threatened by the city's latest disturbances."
Bianca turned back to look at Wyatt as he wafted back through the door and stood at her side, his eyes fully focused on the television screen. Moving a little closer, he lowered himself to peer at the object in the woman's hand.
"They're going to try to catch us out with that little thing?" he said, smirking.
"You don't know how dangerous it could be," Bianca warned. "And I don't like the idea of being on someone's criminal register."
"I wouldn't worry," Wyatt said, shaking his head as he straightened. "The last method they employed to replace security cameras failed miserably. I don't see why this should be any different. I don't mind them finding out who we are, we're much more powerful than those small folk."
"It's not them I'm worried about," Bianca murmured.
"Come on," Wyatt encouraged. "Let's go show them we're not afraid of their simple devices."
"We're going out again?"
"Why not? There's more fun to be had elsewhere," he said joyously. Bianca looked at him disconcertedly. "Follow me."
It sounded more like an order than an invitation. Bianca lifted her head, her eyes watching as his orbs floated up and away. Reluctantly Bianca shimmered after him. She was already tired from every battle they'd encountered that morning, and still he wanted more. Reappearing next to him outside a large brick building she saw that wicked grin again appear on his face.
"Now for something grander," he said, rubbing his hands together.
"Grander?"
He looked at her with surprise. "You don't know the meaning of the word? Bigger, more valuable."
"Very funny," Bianca said sarcastically. She nodded towards the door. "What's in here?"
"The quintessential prize."
Before Bianca could inquire further, Wyatt strode forward and through the doorway. Turning her head to the side, she sighed heavily.
"I've got to make him work on his lack of preparation," she said absently.
Following him inside, she saw he bore no sign of patience this time. Whatever he had said upon entry, he had caught everyone's attention in the room, some people inching away as they looked at him strangely.
"I want it all!" he demanded.
Bianca stopped behind him, looking across the annoyed faces in the room, faces that quickly turned to fear as Wyatt used his powers to lift one man from his seat and throw him across the room, his body shattering the glass wall of the office behind him.
"We'll call the police!" one woman shouted at Wyatt before cowering behind her desk.
"Ha. What makes you think they'll come before blood is shed and lives are lost?" Wyatt asked rhetorically. He looked down at his open hand. "Excalibur!"
Gripping the handle of the sword as it solidified in his hand, he swung it before him, making a few graceful passes for show.
"Because there's one already here." A middle-aged man rose from behind another desk, his gun already drawn from its holster and aimed straight at Wyatt.
"Well that defeats the purpose," Wyatt said. "How am I to have any fun if the authorities are already here?"
"Put the sword down!" the officer shouted.
"Hmm, let me think about that," Wyatt mocked, stroking the stubble on his chin. "No."
The officer fired his weapon, Wyatt swiftly lifting hid sword to block the bullet. Another three escaping from the barrel, Wyatt orbed out before any of them could hit him, the small round objects passing through the light and embedding themselves into the wall and glass door behind him. Bianca stepped aside as the glass shattered to the ground. All around them people were gasping and pointing, completely in shock after seeing what had just occurred.
"It's okay, it's okay," the officer said, trying to calm them, one hand leaving the gun to try and still them over the panic.
As an extra show of his dominance, Wyatt rapidly thrust forward the sword into the body of the man closest to him, pulling it back just as quickly, his eyes still trained on the officer struggling to keep the peace.
"Your own kind are going to betray you," Wyatt commented, slightly amused at the arising chaos. "Pity that."
The officer's attention snapped back to Wyatt, glaring at him, steadying the gun on his figure. Several employees launched themselves towards Wyatt in an attempt to attack, serving as an additional distraction to aid the officer. Wyatt lifted his hand, tilting one way and then the other as he dispersed two energy balls to take two of them out. Lifting the sword with an arcing slice, he crossed the bodies of the three before him, watching with interest as they collapsed to the floor into pools of their own blood.
"I almost wish we could make shapes out of it," Wyatt said, tilting his head as the blood trail ran steadily towards his feet. He glanced over his shoulder at Bianca. "Are you planning on doing anything? I didn't bring you so you could spectate."
"And what does the almighty one suggest I do?" Bianca queried, knowing full well that he hadn't revealed to her any of his intentions for these people or this place.
"Deal with the problems," he said shortly.
Scanning the room she saw that most of the inhabitants didn't pose a threat, but one still did, his gun still aimed at Wyatt. Pushing off, she raced towards him, the words Cop Killer pounding in her head along with the sound of her falling footsteps. Shimmering out mid-stride as his gun moved from Wyatt to her, she knew she had made him paranoid with her disappearance, counting on the fact that he would spin about frantically as he did searching for her. Reappearing just off to his side, she spun and delivered a swift kick to his arm, knocking it sideways, her heel connecting enough with the gun to knock it from his hands. Now unarmed, his next best defence was to grab for her, but she already counted on that as well. She barely gave him time to recover and make his move before she shimmered behind him, a warm reddish glow surrounding her hand as a sharpened dagger appeared there.
"Deadly weapons aren't meant to point at," she said, grabbing his shoulder to hold him steady as she thrust the dagger into his back. Leaning closer to him, she whispered vehemently: "Hurts to be here, doesn't it?"
Raising her hand as she sliced the wound open further, twisting it deeper as she felt the warmth of his blood begin to trail down the blade onto her skin, she tightened her grip on his shoulder as she yanked the dagger out again, pulling him back towards her at an angle as she drew the blade across his throat.
"Your service is terminated," she said, pushing him roughly to the ground.
Lifting her hand, the reddish light appeared again as she made the dagger once again disappear. It was perhaps the best thing about conjuring, that there was no need to clean up, you could just make something vanish instead. Her gaze lifted from her hand to Wyatt to inspect what he was doing. Wyatt had taken out a few more people, their slain bodies adorning the floor. Just like her, his skin and weapon of choice were stained with blood. Seeing him orb his way over to the corner, set on containing his next victim behind their desk, she stepped up onto the one before her to gain a better view. Glancing back towards her, his determination sank further into anger as he saw another woman had collected the officer's gun from the floor and was aiming it at Bianca.
"No!" he bellowed, swinging his hand up towards her, his telekinesis picking the woman up and throwing her aside as if she'd just been hit by a strong wind.
Bianca's attention finally caught hold of the woman as she fired the gun. Leaping forward she heard the bullet wiz by. Straightening once she hit the ground, she stared at Wyatt. She'd come so close to being hit, and he'd saved her. Quickly he looked away from her, again focusing his attention on the man in front of him. Lifting his hand he began to close his fist. She could hear the man spluttering and choking from where she was.
"Keys," Wyatt demanded. There came a jingling sound as the man fumbled around his waist for them. Wyatt, growing tired of the man's nervous agitation, reached down and snatched them from his belt. "What's the box number?"
The man shook his head, unable to talk as Wyatt kept up his strangling hold. Feeling it tighten, he frantically pointed to his throat until Wyatt eased the grip.
"Eight two nine. Box eight two nine."
"And the code?" Wyatt queried.
"I can't tell you that. Company policy," the man said, shaking his head. Wyatt tightened his grip again until the man nodded, wheezing out an "Okay, okay. Five seven nine six two five."
"Wyatt!" Bianca cried, but it was too late.
Amongst all the talking, probes had begun to infiltrate the scene, one stopping right behind Wyatt as it scanned him with its yellow-green light. His attention fully focused on obtaining the information he needed from the man in front of him, he did not notice its presence until Bianca's call of warning, and by that stage it was far too late for him to raise his deflective shield. Even so, he made a good attempt at it, only reaching the halfway point before a spider-like piece of metal shot forth from the probe and burrowed itself into his shoulder. His hand hitting the floor hard to stop him falling completely, he lifted himself to a crouching position, enough to see Bianca as he clutched his wounded shoulder. Bianca rushed forward, looking at him with concern.
"What did it do to you?" she asked,
"Nothing. Here," Wyatt said, handing the keys over to her. "Go find the box numbered eight two nine. You'll need to punch in the code to open it which is… five seven nine nine… no, six two five."
Bianca looked at the keys unsurely in her hand. Glancing back to Wyatt she saw him nod with insistence in his eyes. Pulling his hand away from his shoulder as she turned, he conjured an energy ball into his palm and threw it at the offending probe, waving another one floating further away into the wall and feeling some kind of sweet revenge as it shattered into pieces onto the floor.
Bianca went to the back of the office, finding a large closed vault and smirking upon the 'minor' challenge. Placing her hand against the cold steel, she closed her eyes, shimmering across to the other side. Locks weren't going to keep her from entering something so large. To both sides of her lay an endless row of little grey boxes, all with black numbers etched onto white slips of paper pushed into little holes in the face, a digital scanner underneath each one with buttons to enter a numbered code. Looking up and down the rows, Bianca eventually found box 829. Quickly punching the code in, she smiled proudly as it beeped and she heard a click as it unlocked inside. Pulling it open, she found more keys… and a piece of paper. Looking around her surroundings again, double checking the face of the box, she knew that this is what they had come for. This was all Wyatt wanted. They had killed numerous amounts of people, including a police officer, for something so simple. Yanking out the contents she slammed the box closed, stalking angrily back out into the main room.
"We did all this for a piece of paper?" she shouted. "You had me kill a cop for a piece of paper? Your ultimate prize was just a fucking piece of paper?"
Waving it around in the air, she could see Wyatt's eyes locked on it, fear actually briefly flickering in them that she wouldn't give it over to him; that she was going to do something destructive with it and it would be lost forever.
"It's important. We're going to build on it," he said. His expression darkening, he looked back to the man on the floor, his gaze passing by the photographs on the man's desk. "Not a word about this. When the authorities come, you don't tell them what happened. Make up whatever you feel you need to. Rabid monkeys attacked you – see if I care. Just know that if you don't keep silent, I will come after you, and not only you, but your wife and children also. I have no problem killing you, and if you don't feel like agreeing right now, she has no problem cutting your tongue out."
Hastily the man nodded. Groggily Wyatt lifted himself up and stood unsteadily on his feet, his hand again securely covering his shoulder. Bianca looked him over curiously. They didn't know what they were dealing with, probes were new, and the fact that he had been shot meant he could have any number of things in him.
"Better get you back," she said, reaching out towards him and shimmering him back to his room in his apartment where she placed the keys and paper onto the side table.
Pulling him down onto the bed, she peered over his shoulder, grabbing his hand and tugging it away. Whatever that thing was, the entry wound wasn't pretty. His head drooping slightly, she lifted his chin with the tips of her fingers.
"Hey, you still conscious?" she asked.
"Barely," he responded.
"We have to get you something. Caraway, germander… the sage leaf variety… do you have any of those?" she questioned urgently.
"Yeah. The cupboard."
Dropping her hands away from his face, she could see he wasn't doing so well. He looked like he was about to drop off at any minute, and who knew what the probe bullet had done to his bloodstream. At least if she could find the germander, and if he was still conscious enough to drink it, then she would be able to restore his awareness and cleanse his bloodstream.
"Stay here. I'll make it up for you," she said.
"Not going anywhere," Wyatt responded slowly.
Hurrying out to the kitchen, she pulled open all the cupboard doors until she found where his herbs were kept; ransacking through them and almost breaking a few glass containers in her search. Finally finding what she was looking for, she pulled it out and slammed the cupboard door closed, making the tea as quickly as she could before heading back to the bedroom, thankful to find Wyatt still in the same state as she'd left him.
"Here, drink this," she said, sitting next to him and handing the cup over. "It's going to taste horrible, but it's probably the best thing to help you right now."
Taking the dark cup into his hands, she saw him slowly lift it to his lips and sip it. Watching his face, she saw that it was only once he'd ingested a good amount of the liquid that he noticed the bitter taste, his face screwing up slightly as he held it in his mouth before forcefully swallowing it down. Satisfied that he was going to finish the entire thing she moved onto her second task and scooted herself back across the bedspread, crawling behind him. Looking at the wound again, she sat back on her heels, her hands hesitant to touch him.
"Unless you want me to slice that off, you're going to have to remove your shirt," she said.
Placing the cup down on the side table, Wyatt wrestled his way out of his shirt without a thought, only a mere groan at the pain of moving his shoulder in the process. With great effort he tossed the shirt to the floor. Bianca moved herself closer to him, putting her hands around the wound, her touch a lot more gentler than what she normally inflicted on her victims.
"Looks like it's in fairly deep, but I guess it didn't hit anything if you're still walking around. Can you handle a little pain?" she asked.
"Your version of little and my version of little are probably two opposing conjectures," Wyatt said. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "But being as you think you have an idea about what you're doing, I'm not going to blast you for hurting me."
Double-checking that both his expression and his eyes gave her the go-ahead, Bianca conjured a small sharp object into her hand, halfway between forceps and tweezers it was the only thing she could think of to use. Pushing it into the wound, she stilled her hands as he cried out, growing quiet as he bit his lip and gripped the bed, doing whatever he could to combat it. Digging a little further, the metal tip finally connected to the metal bullet. She pulled it out using the same pathway she had to go in, noting as she looked at the remains that some kind of strange substance was on it – obviously whatever had been poisoning his system. Not wanting to leave him bleeding out, she stayed where she was and simply conjured a medical kit, discarding the bloodied bullet and metal retriever inside the case. Picking up a soft square cloth, she wiped the blood from his back. Next retrieving a needle and thread, she set to work on closing the wound. Wyatt flinched as she pushed the needle in. Quickly she grabbed his shoulder to steady him.
"Don't move," she warned. "This won't work properly otherwise, and if you move too much I might accidentally take your powers if I slip."
Wyatt remained silent for a moment as he stilled, feeling her fingers push the skin together then pull it tight as she wound the thread around. He'd noticed the slight lack of confidence in her voice, despite the choice of words which were meant to assure him she knew what she was doing.
"You've done this before?" he stated.
"On Michael. Plenty of times," she said, pulling the thread again as she worked steadily to close him up.
"Michael?" Wyatt repeated. Previous conversations coming back to him, he began to piece the puzzle together. "He's the one that played you, isn't he? The reason you're like this. The one you're so frightened of."
Bianca pulled tighter and he winced. She didn't answer him, but he could tell from her reaction that he was right.
"It's fixed now," Bianca said, pulling away as she finished up. "Don't try anything else."