Chapter Seven: Shield Me in My Non-Wiccan Way
The charm still clutched tight in his hand, Amos watched without seeing the fireball wheezing his way, like daring it to approach any further. The magic occurred all too suddenly, barely a foot away from Amos; the fire sphere bounced off like from an invisible shield. It knocked into the mahogany table and set it aflame. The force field around Amos flashed and disappeared.
In the doorway, Brooks was peering in, his mouth open in a non-coming gasp. He was soon propelled forward and smacked into the set of shelves nearby Amos.
"Your fair tricks may work on lower magic, but will it stand against the real power?" Christy's voice was metallic, echoing unnaturally in the restrained room of the wooden shack. She stepped forward and, in a light motion, the force field circling Amos was reactivated, though still invisible, and even Brooks, directly standing behind it, could feel the air particles it put into motion.
No, let the mortal be; kill the Charmed One first, while you still can!
No, this is no mere mortal; he is a threat to my ruling. Her eyes shone like ebony.
Let – the man – be! Must – kill – the – witch – while – unconscious! Brown rivulets fought their way into the blackness of the corneas.
Black won against brown in Christy's eyes and she advanced still, not caring for Phoebe, who was barely coming to her senses, or for Brooks, too busy staring at Amos's display of magic to do anything against the Source or for the fight within her. When she reached the foot-pace that isolated Amos and Brooks from the rest of the world, the magic field appeared, protesting against her intrusion, hissing and spitting blue sparks.
But Christy did not stop. On and on she went, until she, too, was behind the barrier of the protective charm. She reached her hand out for Amos's throat.
"What the hell?" Brooks looked even more puzzled at the fine lady who he just thought were a little crazy, try and kill his fellow con man. He grabbed her arm with both his hands and pulled, but without even so much as looking at him, Christy had him fly and land in the shelves again.
Amos also tried to loosen her grip on his throat but had to let go of his talisman to get a good hand on hers. The charm fell on his still-wet shirt, bringing an end to the shield's activation, and revealing its unusual shape: like a cross, but with two of the endings being joined together by a slightly curved line and one of the opposite tips being ended by a smaller, reversed replica of the big cross.