"No, it's a note. "Gone to market. Back soon.""
Neurotic
Disclaimer: Charmed does not belong to me.
Summary: His name is not Chris Perry. It's Christopher. Christopher Halliwell.
Chapter the Thirty-third
"Betrayal"
Just saying that she had to go find Gideon was a lot easier said than done.
For one, Phoebe had no idea where an Elder would hang out when not Up There. Well, she knew Gideon used to run the magic school, but Leo had said something vaguely along the lines of Gideon not working there any more, and so that was out of the running.
As if she could even get into the Magic School, anyway.
She was thinking along the lines of returning home with her tail between her legs, felt better that no one will have noticed her failure, when the idea really struck her.
Gideon was going to betray them. He was probably recruiting with demons right at that very moment.
Inspired by her own genius, Phoebe set out again anew, happily marching down the street with her newly formed idea, when depression struck again. She'd only ever been orbed down to the Underground. She couldn't even accompany Chris if he went down there, something she had seen him do fairly frequently over the last couple of days as he scraped together rare ingredients for an alarm for Wyatt.
Depressed, she continued walking, if only to get away from the house for a couple of hours. Holding in Chris' secret had been bad, but holding in Paul's secret…
She hadn't meant to be standing so close to Cole when Paul had sent up that silence barrier. Really, truly, honestly, she hadn't. Only when he had, she was still stuck inside, and she heard his whispered confession. Paul was Paige's son, and no one – even in his own timeline – knew about it.
Phoebe wondered at Paige's strength to give up her own child. Having experienced a vision quest of her own, Phoebe knew how evocative they could be. What Paige had seen must have been truly awful. It took a lot to shake Paige… A damned lot. Paige must have seen more than a younger Chris warning the family that Wyatt was evil. Paige must have seen an atrocious event that Wyatt had committed.
It was the only thing that made any sense at all. Phoebe knew her sister. Paul must have been told that softer version of the vision to cushion the blow of being adopted out to another sister.
She wanted to cry with the frustration of it all. Her own feelings of annoyance at not being back in her plane, where she belonged, were nothing compared to the despair she felt at what the family would suffer in the future. What they would suffer if they couldn't stop Gideon.
Stopping on the sidewalk, she let her gaze linger up one of the trees. Its branches curved up to the sun, worshipping the light and warmth and life it gave it. Sunlight filtered down through the leaves, dappling a light show on her face. She wondered if Chris was back from his expedition yet. He'd mumbled something about being underground, and near water, and hadn't look too pleased about going. From vague memories of her Psych lectures, she wondered if perhaps something unpleasant had happened to him underground, and then didn't want to think about it.
And you have the luxury of stopping yourself thinking about it. They don't. They've had to live through these awful things, and will live with those memories forever.
Suddenly depressed, Phoebe looked down at the ground, the shadows of leaves flickering over her feet, bared to the sunshine through the thin straps of her sandals. The world can touch me, but I can't touch it.
She shook that thought away too. Self indulgence wouldn't get anything done.
She stepped forward, out of the shelter of the tree, and sun bathed her face again. It didn't feel warm, though. She assumed that must be a side-effect of being on a different plane.
Well, if my Psych lecturer heard me thinking things like this, I'd be committed in an instant, she thought wryly, and then shivered, as if something had walked right through her. Something in that thought…
She tried to grasp onto it, but the truth fluttered away like a butterfly. Frustrated, she just concentrated on walking. That's right, one foot in front of the other, nice and steady, and let's try and avoid walking through people, all right?
Phoebe had managed to distract herself with this, that by the time she looked up she'd walked a fair few kilometres. Looking around in confusion, she tried to place herself. She knew this street.
Frowning, she continued down the familiar sidewalk, and turned the corner. The open market stretched out there, filled with bustling shoppers, and she sighed. The market. Of course. She'd been here just last month with Paige, buying some herbs from one of the stalls, and then laughing over some of the clothing. Paige swore by markets. She said that she'd gotten all her college clothing from markets.
Markets. Markets, markets, markets. THE MARKET!
Realisation flooded through her like a hot metallic liquid, pooling at the base of her spine. She couldn't believe she'd been so dumb.
Running, and not caring now who she ran though, she pelted through the bustle of shoppers, and took the familiar streets and turns and twists to the park up by Sadler St. Dodging through the trees, she ran until she thought her lungs might burst from the effort, and then ran some more. This wasn't a time to wimp out or stop. She knew it was around here somewhere.
She heard a noise. Hoping desperately it was what she was searching for, she skidded through the grass, over the rise, and let out a squeal of success. Two hooded demons, and some kind of wrinkly demon walking through the gateway to the real Black Market.
Not wanting to get left on the other side, Phoebe ran down the hill and skidded through the opening, landing in the gravel on the other side with a thud. The gateway shuddered behind her and disappeared.
Brushing the dust from her knees, Phoebe looked around the market warily. All kinds of evil lurked in this place, as Paige had learned to her cost. Who knew if a demon who could scan different planes was lurking around here? But if they can do that, maybe they can pull me back to this plane long enough for me to holler for a lift out of here, she thought grimly, and with this renewed vigour, she walked more confidently around the market.
She listened closely to some of the conversations, hoping to pick up on some spoken clue about where an external entrance to the Underground could be. She didn't really know what she was going to do when she was down there, she only knew she had to look. She had to sneak around (like sneaking around in this state was hard) and try and find some mention of Gideon. Chris goes down there all the time, she reasoned, and he always manages to come up with some good titbit of a rumour, and I have the upper hand on him here, seeing as I'm practically invisible!
Phoebe grimaced as she passed a group of Stegoflails, who were loudly discussing the properties of human eyeballs, and began to wonder if she would ever find anything.
I can't give up.
She listened carefully to some Sirens calmly discussing the frivolity of Mer-people, and a couple of Grimlocks debate their shimmering speed, and past some really ugly demons she really didn't know the name of discuss something she couldn't catch the name of, and was about to give up when she saw a familiar face.
"Sigmund?" She blurted out, surprised, and then covered her mouth until she realised no one could hear her. Why would Sigmund be here, when…? That was when her brain kicked in, and she hurried to catch him.
Sigmund worked for Gideon at the magic school.
Phoebe desperately wished that she could physically harm someone in this plane as she neared him. If she could, Sigmund would be a mushy pulp on the grass at that exact moment in time.
Instead, she curbed her thirst for revenge, and watched and listened as carefully as she could.
Sigmund was looking nervous. Sweat was standing out on his forehead, and he clearly quivered even though he was standing still.
Idiot, Phoebe thought contemptuously. Even I know not to show too much fear around demons. You're practically inviting them to vanquish your sorry ass.
A wizened old woman with a formidable chest peered at him through the small window of her stall. Small amounts of powder and vials of liquids were arranged inside her stall, on small collapsible shelves.
"Yes?" The woman croaked.
"Ye- Yenene?"
"That's my name, little man," croaked Yenene, "don't wear it out."
Sigmund visibly quivered again.
"If you're going to stand there all day, mortal-" Yenene started, threateningly.
"I- I- I was looking for some Balm of Gangreal," Sigmund said, really quickly.
"Balm of-" Yenene's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What would you be wanting with that? To protect a good baby?"
"No." Sigmund drew his chin up. "To make sure the Charmed Ones cannot protect their progeny."
Yenene actually laughed at that, a belly laugh that drew the attention of a couple of disgruntled demons, who just as quickly looked away when they realised who they were glaring at.
This Yenene must be pretty well known, Phoebe realised, even as chill grabbed her. Wait, isn't Balm of Gangreal the stuff Chris went after?
Coldness clenched around her heart like an icy fist. Chris wouldn't find it if it wasn't there! And if Gideon was wiping out all stores of it…
Phoebe watched, impatient with worry.
"Here you are," Yenene said, her lip curling.
"I-I-I- have payment," Sigmund stuttered.
"I'll let you have it for free," Yenene said. "Lord Below knows the Charmed Ones' firstborn has caused more than enough trouble for me."
"Th-th-thank you," Sigmund stuttered, and Phoebe was so caught up watching the malicious glee flitter over Yenene's sagging face that she completely missed what happened next.
All she knew is that Sigmund had been walking away, the vials clutched in his sweaty, miserable paws, and then- he was on the ground. Phoebe raised her eyes, and couldn't help breathing inwards very rapidly.
Wyatt was stood there.
Phoebe had no doubts that it was him. His eyes were black, like holes, like if you fell into them you would never come out again alive. His hair was lanky, like Paul's had been, and he looked very strong.
"Yenene, Yenene, Yenene," Wyatt breathed coolly. His voice was like ice and splinters on the cold air. "I'm disappointed in you."
Several demons had turned to watch, but none dared yet approach this cool but mysterious stranger in their midst.
"Lord Wyatt-" Yenene breathed.
Wyatt looked at her, hard, before yanking the vials out of Sigmund's grasp and passing them back to her. "You are going to stay here, with these vials, and if the Charmed Ones or my younger brother Christopher comes looking for it, you are going to give it to them. Free of charge."
Yenene trembled. "I- Yes. Of course."
"And you…" Wyatt turned to the face-down Sigmund. "Tell your master I do not appreciate these little games of his. Tell him that if he continues with his current course of action, and fails – and he will fail, don't doubt me on that – then the future will be even worse than he can even imagine."
"Of-of-of course!" Sigmund said, scrambling to his feet and flat out running away from Wyatt, his face stained red.
Phoebe couldn't take her eyes from Wyatt, fear clenching her insides and churning in her stomach.
"Yenene, I'm disappointed in your action, but-" Wyatt gestured slightly. "I am more disappointed in one aspect of it more than anything else."
"Wh-what's that?" Yenene gasped.
Wyatt smirked coolly, and he looked directly at Phoebe. His gaze locked with Phoebe's frightened own gaze. She took an intake of breath, and stumbled back, for somehow Wyatt had stepped forwards, and was holding her wrist and she couldn't get away, she was trapped-
"Yes, Yenene," Wyatt said smoothly, "I'm most disappointed that you would conduct business in open view of a Charmed One." His face hardened even further. "I'm most disappointed indeed."
T-20
