A red king drowns in a shallow sea
A red pawn rises. A clock strikes three

Something Good Will Happen

Why can't I move? Rory wondered, as he was dragged by his wrist across the sharp dirt and stiff patches of grass in the small forest behind the Manor. He assumed that he'd been either drugged or the victim of dark magic; it took far too much energy to lift his head, but not far enough to see who was dragging him. Even if I could look up at him, I wouldn't be able to see his face he figured, since the night sky was completely clouded over. He couldn't decide whether or not being too groggy to panic at that moment was a mild curse or a grand blessing. However, there was certainly no question as to what was about to happen; the deep voice of the sadist who dragged him was telling him all that he needed to know.

"What do you think, Rory?" said the captor. "How does that little poem about all of you go? Ah yes. "Born of sea" I think it says." His voice was brimming with morbid satisfaction. "Now, if I remember correctly, you're one of the "born of sea" boys." he went on. "Well, if you're born of sea, you should probably die there too, don't you think?"

Whenever Rory saw a movie where it took the hero a few seconds to get back up once the bad guys knocked him down, he simply couldn't understand why those heroes 'hesitated' rather than snapping back up like a springboard. If by some miracle I happen to live through this, I will never make that mistake again. he thought. In fact, I'll make a public apology to each of those movies.

As the demon/warlock/darklighter... whatever he was, continued to cruelly jerk his body further into the small forest, Rory remembered a fitting line from an old Tori Amos song: 'You can laugh; it's kind of funny, things you think at times like these... like I haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this.'

"Tell me something: Rumor has it that you're the charmed son who likes to meddle in curses... It that true?"

Rory didn't need to see the man's face to know how wickedly pleased he was with his capture. This is how the tin man must've felt before they oiled the hinges of his mouth. "Yeah...That's me." he managed to mumble.

"I guess that makes you the prized kill then, doesn't it?" the man cruelly insulted.

It seemed to Rory that the deep, grumbling voice echoed longer than it should, but in his foggy-headed condition, he couldn't be sure.

"I wouldn't worry too much; the rumor is it's not so bad." the man said, dragging Rory more forcefully during the times that he spoke. "They say as soon you stop struggling it feels like you're being given a great big, wet hug. Your family's big on hugs, right Ror'? Who knows; you might even like it."

I wonder how many people ever died twice in the same day. From the ache in his bruised chest, Rory could tell that his body wanted to laugh at the irony, a notion he felt a little bit ashamed of. Is it strange to feel relieved that Chris and the twins will finally be safe? Man, Chris would kill me if he heard me say that. Check that, he'd kill me if he had the faintest suspicion I even thought it.

"Now I know what you're thinking: You're thinking your little drowning incident won't be such a bad thing 'cause you'll finally be rid of that pesky curse." the man taunted mercilessly. "But apparently I can drain it right out of you, the second I get you unconscious." He looked down to enjoy the worried expression on Rory's face. "You really need to learn to leave other people's things alone; that little burden was never meant for you." he went on. "Ya know, it's downright embarrassing; I get giddy as a schoolgirl when I think about how it's gonna feel to let all the fellas know how easy you were to track down. We've been hunting for those two strapping young bucks for years now."

The unpleasant image the man's voice inspired in Rory's head started to wake up his body, one muscle at a time. He was still nowhere near able to stand or defend himself, but his ability to speak, though sluggishly so, was finally settling in. "Trust me" he muttered, "You won't get close enough to touch them."

Rory groaned as his kidnapper suddenly let go of his wrist, dropping both his head and back heavily on the hard ground.

"I gotta admit, I'm almost impressed," the man said tauntingly, kneeling down to glare in Rory's eyes. At last, Rory had the chance to see the face of the creep who was dragging him to his second death.

"What happened to your voice?" Rory asked calmly. "I hope you haven't taken up smoking; those things can kill ya' you know."

The abductor threateningly brought his face inappropriately close to Rory's. Rory didn't som much as blink. "I'm really looking forward to seeing how you plan to stop me." He chuckled condescendingly. "Look at you; you can't even roll over, much less stand. I'll be really impressed if you can even get your head above water, with both me and the water holding you down... Hell, we should sell tickets; we'd make ourselves a killing... No offence by the way."

Anyone who witnessed Rory's smile would've sworn it was entirely sincere. "None taken." he replied. "By the way, I'm ready to start back up when you are."

"Ya know, the braver you act right now, the more I'm gonna enjoy it later." the captor threatened. "Think you could keep up that little act of yours just a little bit longer? Please? For me?"

Rory's ability to speak intelligibly was finally starting to return.

"Something good will happen." Rory said, with whatever hope he could scrounge up. "You'll see; it always does."

"You really think the ring of nine can protect you way out here?" said the villain. "Your family puts a ridiculous amount of faith in prime numbers."

Rory had often found that thought amusing himself. "You're right; it must just be a coincidence that they've never let us down."

"Tell that to Prue." The man enjoyed feeling he'd blown the source of his captive's hope completely apart.

"And then Aunt Paige became the most powerful Whitelighter in history." Rory returned. "No matter what you do to me tonight... something good will happen. If you're really lucky you'll live long enough to see it."

Scowling angrily, the man yanked Rory's arm back up off the ground, dragging him far more quickly and roughly than before. "You won't look so brave when you can't breathe." The kidnapper's cocky attitude quickly returned. "Don't worry; I'll give your whiney brothers plenty of time to figure out where you are. You'll probably make it through the first few hours. Can't you just see that one brother's face when he finds you face-down in his precious little fountain?"

Rory casually responded: "Oh, I'm sorry, did you say something? I was busy with my deep breathing exercises."

note: That the villain incorrectly labels 9 as a prime number is intentional. It's an accidental clue to Rory.