Legacy: Ghosts of the Past

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Four: One Witch Down

"Why couldn't Dad have found an easier place to get to when he hid this stupid book?" Wyatt grumbled as he pushed a branch out of the way in order to get through. "I mean, I know that it was supposed to keep that thing safe and away from demons, but you know, they were bound to find out where it was eventually, so why not send it someplace that wasn't so hard to find?"

"Because he was actually hoping that nobody would be crazy enough to try and look for it here," Chris muttered as he followed his brother. "Speaking of crazy, though, what were you thinking, telling Susan about Bianca this morning? Are you out of your mind?"

"What?" Wyatt asked, glancing at him. "Don't tell me that you haven't told your girlfriend that you were dating a demon. Besides, it's a rite of passage in this family. You're never officially a Halliwell until you've dated one." He grinned slightly and Chris rolled his eyes; Wyatt had officially gone out with at least seven demons, not knowing that they were demons. "Sorry, all right? It just slipped out." He paused. "So what did you tell her?"

"Susan?" Chris asked, glancing towards his brother. Wyatt nodded. "I just told her that she was a demonic ex-girlfriend that we had to vanquish. She was a little uneasy about the whole 'I dated a demon' thing, but she seemed to be okay."

"If you say so."

Chris shook his head, then stopped dead in his tracks, sensing the evil presence that accompanied the Grimoire. "Hold on a second," he said softly. Wyatt stopped too, glancing towards his brother. "Do you feel that?" he wanted to know.

Closing his eyes, Chris felt his brother cast out his sensing power with their telepathy and then nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It's close. That way," he added, pointing to their left. Chris nodded as they pushed their way through the jungle.

"So what's the deal with Brooke this morning?" Chris asked, glancing sideways at his brother. "Susan said she ran out of the apartment pretty early and in a hurry."

"She had something that she had to do this morning," Wyatt said vaguely as two demons appeared in front of them. Chris blasted one of them with his exploding power and Wyatt sent an energy ball towards the second one, blowing him into pieces. "Oh, yeah, we're definitely close."

"Oh, because the pressure of evil is so thick you could cut it with a knife isn't enough?" Chris asked sarcastically. "You needed two of those oversized minions to tell you that?"

"And I was so hoping that your girlfriend would be able to get a handle on that sarcastic wit of yours," Wyatt sighed. "I'm so disappointed that I was wrong. I should probably talk to her about that. Might not be too late." Chris rolled his eyes.

Before he could answer, however, both Wyatt and Chris fell through a hole in the ground as it gave way. The two brothers landed with a grunt and Chris groaned, rolling over as he felt a knife pressed at his throat.

"So glad that you could join us, witch," a voice said and Chris glanced up to find a man with a sword standing right next to him. He tried to move his arm, but winced as pain shot through it. He must've broken it when he fell, he realised as Wyatt let out an exclamation. "I wouldn't try that, Wyatt Halliwell. Otherwise your brother might not live to see the next sunrise."

Glancing towards Wyatt, Chris saw him lower his hand, glaring furiously towards the man—or whatever he was—that was holding his brother prisoner. "What do you want?"

"I've already got what I want," the man replied. Chris stared at him and realised that in his free hand, he was carrying a large, black book. He held it up so that the brothers could see it clearly. The evil that was emitting from it made it difficult for Chris to breathe. "The Grimoire."

"Peter Connelly," Wyatt realised. A bit late, Chris thought, who had guessed who he was the moment that he laid eyes on the man. A few of the demons who were standing around them chuckled menacingly. Wyatt looked unnerved, but immediately regained his composure. "Let my brother go."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll kill you in a heartbeat," Wyatt threatened. Connelly laughed and only pressed the blade further towards Chris's neck. Sucking in his breath, Chris kicked Connelly in the groin, making him double over in pain.

Not wasting any time, Chris leaped up and rejoined his brother, who was telekinetically moving the Grimoire towards them. The minute it was in view, Wyatt reached for it.

"Don't!" Chris yelled, but it was too late. Wyatt had reached for it with his hands and the Grimoire sailed away from them, landing near Connelly.

"Wyatt, don't you remember Mom's stories?" Chris demanded, glaring at his brother. "It's like the Book of Shadows, only it protects itself from good." Wyatt swore as Connelly pushed himself up and managed to get to the Grimoire, holding on to it.

"Get rid of the elder," he told the demons. "But remember, bring the younger one to me." Without another word, he disappeared, leaving his demons to deal with the brothers.

"I'll take the ones on the left, you take the ones on the right," Wyatt instructed, glancing towards Chris. Then he frowned. "What's wrong with your arm?" he wanted to know.

Chris grimaced. "I think I broke it."

"Great," Wyatt sighed. "Okay, new plan. Can you still blast things?" Chris nodded, flexing the fingers on his right uninjured hand, glaring towards the demons. "All right, blast as many as you can get, then orb out."

"We can't orb out of here, I already tried," Chris replied. He had noticed the minute that they arrived in here that he hadn't been able to orb anywhere in the room.

"Then run towards the exit," Wyatt ordered as the demons started to attack them. "Chris, hurry!"

--

Brooke sighed as she walked through the department store in the full uniform that she now wore, feeling exceptionally sorry that she had run out on Susan this morning after promising that she would take care of Brandon. But she had an interview first thing this morning and they'd given her the job on the spot, on the condition that she started today.

Somehow, I'm not really feeling like 7.50 an hour is worth this, she thought with a sigh as people's thoughts started to bug her again. It usually did, whenever she was in the middle of a big crowd like this, with people expressing more inwardly than outwardly. I really hate being a telepath sometimes. It's more trouble than it's worth.

You have no idea, witch.

Brooke turned around as she heard a telepathic voice penetrate into her mind. She stared all around her, searching for the demon that was intruding, but saw nothing.

At least nothing that she could find, either with her eyes or searching for a demonic mind telepathically. Which wasn't too hard to do; demons were so much easier to find than ordinary humans. If there was a demon in the crowd, then she could usually find them pretty easily.

Unless they weren't in the crowd and they were communicating telepathy from pretty far away. Then there was reason to worry, because the further away they were, then that meant the more powerful the telepath was. Unfortunately, Brooke's telepathy was more close-minded. She couldn't reach somebody unless they were pretty close to her, usually within a block.

Hoping that it was just her imagination and she hadn't really heard someone in her mind, Brooke returned to what she was doing and helped one of her co-workers at the check out. The line was almost a mile long.

"Is it always this crowded?" Brooke asked Andrea as she finished checking out a man buying a watch and moved on to a woman who had an armload of clothes. Wish I was doing that right about now, she thought longingly as she scanned the clothes.

"Usually," Andrea answered as the line began to die down. She glanced sideways at Brooke. "Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale." Andrea stared at her carefully. "Brooke, you seriously look sick. Maybe you should go take a break and sit down or something. Get a drink. Go ahead, I'll go take care of everything here."

"Thank you," Brooke said gratefully as she went to the break room. She sank down onto one of the chairs, placing her head into her hands. The room around her was spinning and she felt as though her mind was splitting apart just as a man appeared in front of her.

"You're not supposed to be back here, mister," she muttered. "The restrooms are around the corner." When he didn't leave, she glanced up at him and froze, her eyes going wide.

"Oh, don't worry, Miss Murphy, I'm not going to hurt you," Peter Connelly told her. "Permanently, anyway." She scrambled out of her chair, backing away from him. "You see, I need to extract sweet revenge against a certain friend of yours and you're standing in my way. It's nothing personal, I just need to get you out of the way until I've finished the job."

"Look," Brooke said, her heart beating fast in her chest as she was backed into a corner. "If this is about that stupid prophecy—" She gasped as his hand curled around her throat.

Peter looked positively livid. "How do you know about the prophecy?" he demanded. "How do you know?"

"A—a friend told me," she whispered. "Someone who's gone now. To a better place," she whimpered and his grip loosened around her throat. She gasped, able to breathe again.

"Unfortunately for you, Miss Murphy, I trust and believe no one," Peter told her. "Which is the reason why I am still alive after all of these years. So I'm afraid that I'm going to have to do a little damage to control in order to keep your mouth shut."

Brooke tried to scream for help, but his eyes glowed slightly and she felt blackness all around her, enveloping her in its cold, cruel embrace. It swept her through, throwing her into the darkness. It was like a cage, keeping her imprisoned there like an animal.

"Susan!" she screamed. "Wyatt! Chris! Somebody, please help me!" She heard cold laughter somewhere nearby, yet so far away as she struggled to find the way out, pounding against the darkness, trying to force her way through.

"Darkness, leave this place,

let this witch be released with haste.

From the darkness to the light

release her, do not fight."

The spell did nothing more than give her a slight view on what was happening on the outside. Peter was slowly lowering her limp body onto the ground and then grinned maliciously.

"That stupid witchlighter and the brothers are next, Miss Murphy," he told her. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of them." Then he vanished without another word, disappearing into nothingness.

Brooke felt horror run through her as the darkness pulled her into its embrace again. Peter Connelly was going after Susan, Wyatt, and Chris, to kill them or do the same to her and imprison them in their own minds.

And there was no way to warn them.