2027 cont.
Bianca ascended the stairs, finding Wyatt studiously working at the desk in the main room of the house neighbouring the manor. Through the window she could see yet another group heading into the old Victorian home for the routine museum tour. Surveying the rest of the room she saw there was only one other occupant – a raven haired Phoenix named Veronica who led one of Wyatt's teams. Wyatt flicked through the papers before him.
"We're missing something," he stated.
"I know," Veronica agreed. "I suggest we gather our resources and aim for the most prominent location."
Wyatt looked up, spying Bianca as she hovered in the doorway. "Bianca."
"Yes?" she responded quietly.
Huffily Veronica looked back at the fellow Phoenix, rolling her eyes away. She didn't like being interrupted, and she wasn't fond of the distraction Bianca afforded.
"What do you think?" Wyatt asked.
"It's not her place to say," Veronica intervened. "She hasn't taken part in any of this."
"I still would like her opinion," Wyatt admonished.
"So she can deceive you again?" Veronica queried. "I don't know why you place so much faith in her."
"He has every right to," Bianca snapped, walking further into the room and heading towards Veronica. "I was with him from the beginning. I've worked for him longer than you."
"That's only because you abandoned us. Traitor," Veronica spat.
"Ladies!" Wyatt yelled. "Stop this. Dissension won't help our cause."
Scathing, they both looked back to him as two more assassins shimmered into the room. Dressed entirely in black, Bianca knew they were merely team members.
"We found the book, sir," Jax informed him. "It's with the Pelonir. Stanford and I were able to get close enough to their location, but they will move shortly. Do we have permission to attack?"
"Jax, no," Veronica scolded. "You need more than two men to take a group of that size on, especially if you're going in half-cocked."
"Veronica," Wyatt chastised sharply. She looked back to him. "Let them try."
"Thank you, sir," Jax said, he and Stanford shimmering out.
Veronica approached the table, slapping her hands down on the other side, looking bitterly at Wyatt. "You have no idea what you're doing. Why are you sending my men out on suicide missions for some stupid book? This is what we should be focusing on."
"That book could provide us with the missing pieces of the puzzle required here. Now stand down before I obliterate you," Wyatt commanded. Begrudgingly she stepped back. "Considering the Phoenix are all about control and order I find none of you manageable. You're all consumed with your own ideals. Have a little patience."
Staidly he returned to flipping through the pages in front of him. Stopping, he lifted his head, bewilderment on his face as he sat back thoughtfully in his chair.
"Huh," he said as if he'd realised something, looking towards the side.
Bianca's gaze flickered quickly in the same direction but she saw no sign of danger. Whatever had crossed Wyatt's mind was entirely in his own thoughts.
"What are you thinking?" Bianca asked.
"Not thinking, per se. Remembering," he explained, looking back towards her. "Chris is dead."
Bianca straightened, shaking her head adamantly. "No. Don't do this, Wyatt."
"I'm not doing anything," he insisted. "I was there when he was stabbed… by an Elder. Dad couldn't fix him."
"No," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "You're lying."
Unable to defend himself without absolute knowledge, Wyatt stared at her silently. Bianca turned away, shimmering out of the house and over to the main Phoenix headquarters. She was not worried about being discovered there. Ever since she had killed Michael, Wyatt had owned the building and the occupants who now busied themselves all working for him.
She headed straight for the library, pushing the doors open and stepping inside. She had not returned here in all this time, and the sight of the tables and books brought back a flood of memories. She knew she could find out the truth here. Everything Halliwell she had discovered here. She easily located the book. It was just as she remembered, although a little more aged with dust. Some of the pages beneath its leather-bound red cover were creased. Sitting at the table she scoured the pages for Chris' name, flipping past each prominent event in the lives of the Charmed Ones. She tried to remember how long ago it was that she last saw Chris but it was all becoming hazy. She didn't know whether the same amount of time passed in the present as it did in the past. She stopped as she saw Chris' name on the same page as the hospital. Worriedly she read the text more in depth only to discover it was his birth. It wasn't her Chris, the one she had sent back, the older version. She flicked back a few pages, skimming the text more closely. There she found it, as Wyatt had described. Gideon, an Elder who at that time had run Magic School, had ended the life of the Charmed Ones' newest whitelighter. He had been stabbed with a magical athame, whilst watching over his older brother as a toddler who was subsequently kidnapped, and was unable to be healed.
Tears slipped from Bianca's eyes. She lifted her head, running a hand under her nose and sniffling as she tried to hold them back. She knew what this meant – it was over. They had failed. Now Chris was dead, very likely where she should have been, and the world was still devastated in its own bleak way. Any hope she'd had was immediately crushed under the weight of reality as she tried to surmise how she would now live in a world where she had lost everything. All she had left was Wyatt. Wyatt still wanted her. She could use him to make herself feel better. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she needed to be wanted, she needed something to cling to.
Wiping her eyes, she closed and replaced the book, heading into the bathroom to wash her face. Running wet hands back through her hair she looked at her reflection. She looked pale, but there were barely any other signs that she had been crying. She hadn't allowed herself to release enough tears to give that away. She thought again of going to Wyatt. She knew the ideas in her mind were wrong and stupid, but she felt so hollow now, so alone. He was an easy target; he would succumb much faster than anyone else she could try to pick up on the street. Determined to make herself feel better she returned to the house neighbouring the manor and went in search of Wyatt. It didn't take her long to discover he was no longer there.
Her queries led her to his apartment. It amused her to realise after everything he'd achieved and all he could have, he still chose to squander himself away here during the quiet hours, at the very same address she had showed up to five years ago. She found him seated in his favourite armchair playing with the ornately carved edges of an antique photo frame held tentatively in his hands. He looked reflective as his eyes scanned over the picture inside it. He looked like he needed the same sort of happiness she did.
Striding forward, she peeled off her jacket and tossed it over the back edge of the bar stool. The buttons clattered against its metallic surface causing him to look up and quickly put the picture aside as he noticed he was not alone.
"I thought you would have been on one of your vengeance missions by now," he said.
"No," she said. "I'm only looking for one thing."
Continuing to stride forward, she pushed him back in the chair and straddled his waist. He looked at her, confused, seeing her hesitate for a moment before she pressed her lips to his, her body falling against his, sliding against him, wanting him. He almost gave in.
Artfully he pushed her back, seeing desperation and sadness flicker in her eyes before she averted them, running her hands up along his arms. He shifted his gaze, cautiously watching them, ensuring she wasn't armed. It was possible. He'd known her long enough to understand what kind of trickery she was capable of. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and he knew they were going to remain empty.
"You need this like I do," she said, leaning back into him. Softly she kissed him again, progressing back towards his ear, speaking in sultry whispered tones. "Don't deny I can't give you a happy ending. Show me how much you want me. Make love to me."
Wyatt closed his eyes. "No."
Bianca stopped her amorous ministrations, breathing steadily. Her heart thundered in her chest. She wasn't even sure she had heard him correctly. She couldn't comprehend why he would turn her down. Slowly she sat back up, her eyes moving to meet his. She slid her hand from his shoulder, tracing a gentle line down his chest. She was feeling less confident now but she was convinced she could change his mind.
"I'm not falling for this, Bianca," he said. "I know seduction is one of your ploys to distract, kill or both."
"Wyatt, please," she begged. It was true she was trying to distract herself, but it was not her intention to do any of those things to him. Seeing he was unconvinced she dropped the act and stared at him resolutely. "I'm not moving."
"I have no qualms about moving you," he said. She dug her knees further into the cushion, preparing to fasten herself into position, hoping to entice him a little more in the process as she wriggled on his lap. Wyatt barely moved as he orbed her from his lap to the couch nearby. She had no chance of stopping him. He pushed himself up from the armchair, not giving her a chance to shimmer back. "I'm not giving you what you want. You're spoilt."
"I am not spoilt!" Bianca shouted.
Refusing to refute her claim, he walked away from her towards his bedroom. Picking up the cushion from the corner of the lounge, she threw it at him as he walked away. As he closed his bedroom door, effectively sectioning himself away from her, she flopped back down onto the couch, raising a hand to her head. She felt humiliated. She felt guilty for trying to play him like that. She knew it would be hard to face him again without thinking of what she'd done, or attempted to do.
"What are you doing?" Amanda asked Bianca, watching her cautiously. It wasn't everyday she had an assassin in her prison sharpening a blade against a stone. It gave her the jitters.
"Passing time," Bianca answered.
"You couldn't, like, do that outside? Away from likely-to-be-killed captives?" Amanda requested. "It's just a tad… disturbing to watch."
"Well don't watch then," Bianca answered simply.
"It's a little hard. These blank grey walls aren't exactly enthralling to look at." She shifted position, thinking of an idea. "Hey, I know. Why don't you get me a piece of chalk and I can draw on them? Tally up my days in here with a few marks. Or you could give me that knife and I'll just carve them, how's that?"
Bianca lifted her eyes, pausing in her task. "No."
"Spoil sport," Amanda complained. Something about the remark made Bianca look incredibly uncomfortable, and Amanda wasn't shy of noticing it. "Did you want to talk about something?"
"No," Bianca answered quickly.
"You know I could jump you and find out what your problem is."
"You jump me and this will end up embedded in your body," Bianca said, holding up the sharpened blade.
"Good point," Amanda observed.
The door opened and Wyatt strolled in carrying a small but heavy book in his hands. He glanced at Bianca in passing. She kept her eyes deflected from him. From their cold and distant body language, Amanda surmised something had happened between them but she couldn't determine what it was.
"I'm going to check on Rhett," Bianca said, quickly excusing herself and disappearing out the door.
Wyatt paused, listening for the door to close before continuing forward and stopping before Amanda. She looked up to him.
"You brought me a present?" she asked, seeing the book in his hand. "That was nice of you."
"I found the book," Wyatt explained, holding it out to her. "I want you to decipher the text. If you lie to me, don't think you won't be vanquished immediately."
"I don't know what you're looking for," Amanda said.
"Read it," Wyatt insisted.
Amanda reached for the book, holding the opposite edge as Wyatt pushed it forward into her hand. Suddenly the book seemed to round, and she saw her hand was firmly encompassing a basketball. Looking to the side she saw Wyatt asking her if she was tired of playing with it yet. Removing his shirt, he began to join her for a not-so-fair game which concluded with her kicking him to the ground. Although angered, he didn't hurt her. He instead told her he was going to visit someone else. And that someone else she knew was Bianca. A vision inside a vision she had seen it when she'd touched the ball.
"No," she gasped, drawing away. The book clattered to the floor as she turned from Wyatt and walked as far away from him as she could get inside the tiny room. Quickly she looked back to him. "What the fuck was that? I've never played basketball with you! What… are you planning on even taking me outside?"
Wyatt looked at her confusingly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "I can't say the thought ever entered my mind."
Amanda looked at the book. It had fallen open on a page with an elliptical detailed picture. She knelt before it, looking at the curvature of the writing. The Eye of Acrilya. She knew nothing about it, but from what she could make out of the text it wasn't a good thing. Gingerly placing her hands back on the book she saw everything beneath her take on a brown hue, the eye growing before her. She saw three people in front of her – all of them she was now able to recognise from the visions she had seen from Bianca. Chris was crouched down, gently prodding the large eye. Bianca was wrapped in Wyatt's arms. They all looked somewhat disgusted and slightly fearful as they discussed the disappearance of the workers on the site. Amanda drew her hands away, looking up to Wyatt.
"What the hell did you do? You ruined my life!" she yelled. "I don't want to have to see these fucking things every time I touch this book."
Wyatt looked away irritably. "Amanda, I did warn you. Stop playing games."
"This isn't a fucking game," she said. Standing, she pushed him. Another flash ran through her mind – Wyatt and Bianca in their bedroom discussing his parents' anniversary. It didn't make sense, she knew his mother was dead, and it was causing her more than enough headaches having her vision interrupted not just on occasion but every time she touched something or someone. "Give me back the spells. I don't want my powers!"
Hearing the shouting from the room, Bianca quickly rushed back in. She saw Wyatt try to grab for the hysterical girl, saw Amanda quickly evading him. She looked as if Wyatt had been torturing her without really trying.
"What's going on?" Bianca asked.
"She's psychotic," Wyatt answered.
"He's fucked-up," Amanda replied. "In fact this whole thing is. You screwed with some evil eye and now we're all living in this shitty world. The two of you were in some joyous happy relationship and now look at you – you're killing people and fighting each other."
"We're not—" Bianca countered, looking towards Wyatt. Blinking, she quickly looked away. She didn't even know what they were now. She was still embarrassed about throwing herself at him, and they had decidedly avoided each other in the following days.
Amanda lifted her hands to her head. "Please. I need those spells."
Wyatt lifted a hand and swung it backwards. Telekinetically Amanda flew back and hit the wall, sinking to the ground unconsciously.
"Wyatt!" Bianca admonished.
"What do you want me to do, Bianca?" he shouted. "I don't know how strong her mind powers are. She could have attacked us. Or she's just plain crazy and in that regard I did her a favour putting her out of her misery. It's not as if I killed her."
"You could have given her those spells."
"How do I know she's telling the truth about that?" he questioned. "Besides, I don't know where they are."
"You were the last one with them!"
"How the fuck am I supposed to keep track of two pieces of paper amongst everything else? You expect too much from me, Bianca."
She kept quiet, looking at him solemnly. All her defences had come down speedily enough for the retaliation to hurt. Breathing heavily and clearly angered, Wyatt turned away from her and hastily swept the book up from the floor. Walking back towards the door he opened it and looked out into the hallway.
"Veronica! Take this back to the study," he ordered.
The raven-haired Phoenix hurried down the corridor, taking note of the urgency in his tone. She took the book from his hands, slipping her fingers between the cover and the page that had been open. Walking back with it, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure Wyatt had disappeared before she glanced at the page. She had heard of The Eye of Acrilya. She knew that it was secreted away somewhere, that its job was to ensure evil ruled the world. She smirked thinking it had done a good job on Wyatt already, he was clearly destructive and nobody could stand in his way, not even the Phoenix. But he had a weakness, and that weakness was Bianca. Obviously he was captivated under the same licentious spell as Michael had been. Her harlotry had a way of making powerful men fallible. She knew that wouldn't be the case if she were in charge. She knew Bianca would have no way of influencing her.
Pensively she laid the book on the table in the study, her mind beginning to formulate how exactly she could convince the others that Wyatt had led them astray. He may be powerful, but he would not be able to defeat them all, not as a united force. She closed the cover, knowing she would have to keep the book away from everyone else. No-one was to know The Eye of Acrilya really existed, that would ruin everything. She would have to convince Wyatt to keep it solely under wraps, while at the same time working to turn everybody against him. But first, she knew, she would have to do something about Bianca.