AN: here comes chapter eight, I hope that you like. I think that it's the longest one yet, and i'm quite happy with it.
However, I don't really know what to do after this chapter. Option 1: writing a chapter from gina's pov, which I think would be pretty fun, and that would also introduce a plot thingie from her pov, which would also be fun. Option 2: I write a chapter featuring Ben and Hades, and some more underworld action.
Another thing is that I would like to introduce the Halliwells, and all that angst that will come with that, just how soon do you want it. That will also have an impact on the options 1+2.
so please, please review and give your opinion on this matter, otherwise the next chapter will take a while to write seeing as I don't know what to do with it. It's like domino effect
"Can I help you with something?" the lady at the counter asked.
"No thanks, I think I can handle myself," I answered, and got a chuckle from her.
I had now found the magic shop, and what the fuck does a scrying crystal looks like?
I'm not sure...
Then my eyes fell onto a table with crystals on, and there it was, a scrying crystal. It was about two-three inches, and white.
And, of course, the lady was keeping a check on what the hell i was doing. I need a distraction.
Put something on fire then... Or ask questions and then put something on fire...
"Do you make a lot running this shop?" I asked.
"Well, I go around, don't I? Are you sure that you don't need help?"
"Umm, no. I should've asked from the beginning, but have you got... uh, a book about numbers?"
Numbers?
I'm good at numbers.
"Yes, lets see, shall we?" She smiled invitingly at me, and walked out from behind the counter, towards the shelves. I quickly slipped the crystal into my pocket.
"Now, I have this one about arithmancy, the art of telling the future with numbers, is that what you were looking for?"
"I... Sorry, how much is she?" I dug into my pocket and found my phone, and with a few buttons pressed, the music started playing. "Phone call. Really sorry, but I have to go. Mom said that she'd call at dinner, and fu- god, I'm hungry."
I quickly walked out of the shop, and at the corner, shimmered away to my bedroom.
Now comes the hard bit, how the hell do you scry?
You could still be caught you know...
Doubt it, I was nice to her. Do you know how to do this?
You'll need a map...
And where the hell can you find a map? This is the goddamn internet age! Maybe in the living room, there's a bookcase there, at least.
Don't you need maps and such for schoolwork?
Eh, yeah, but have you ever heard of the internet? Great invention, there's lots of fun to be had there. You can watch porn, and find essays that mean you won't have to write them yourself.
You cheater... I like that...
Too bad the teachers don't.
I was now in the living room, had found an atlas and had brought it to my room.
At this moment, I was trying to figure out how to use the crystal.
It's a white, long crystal-
Though they don't have to be...
With a string attached.
Though there doesn't have to be...
No, of course not. There's a lot of things that it is, and a lot of things that it doesn't have to be. And that means that there are many models, like a book! It exists in all the fuckin' forms god created, but there's still one consistent use.
Though not always...
Fuck off.
There must be something in the grimoire.
I opened the grimoire, and in the back I found an index. Under S I found scrying.
Scrying is a form of magic that is commonly used by witches to find demons and the like. It only works if the demon/the like has been stupid enough to not put up anti-scrying wards, or if the demon/the like hasn't done anything and therefor the whole thing is pointless. That's to say, pointless to put up wards.
To scry you need a crystal. The crystal is commonly white, long and has a string attached. They scry by swinging the crystal above a map, that is usually incorrect since they can't make proper maps themselves, but buy them in some store for too much.
The most surprising thing is that the text actually informs you.
Cole's grandma was a racist, but this text seems to have been written by Cole himself...
That he actually knows something is great, isn't it.
Right, let's swing the crystal over...?
USA...
As good start as any.
I swung the crystal over the map, not really expecting it to work, when it landed on Washington DC. That's straight across the country.
I looked through the atlas, and found a map over the west part of north America. Unfortunately there wasn't one over Washington DC.
I decided to shimmer over there, and get to a tourist office.
When I got there, it didn't take me long to find one, and there I found a map over Washington DC. I scryed over the map, is that how you say it?
Whatever.
After having gone through all of that, I had finally found an address.
It was an apartment. A completely normal apartment in an admittedly bad neighborhood.
"Mikhail?" I called. There was the sound of movement, frantic, and then:
"Ben? What are you doing here?" Mikhail's head poked out from what I assumed was the kitchen.
"I wanted to ask something."
"Oh really. Then why didn't you knock?"
"Because I shimmered."
"Well, that's certainly no excuse," he said, and I got the impression of being reprimanded.
"And I think it is," I countered.
"Doesn't matter what you think, since I own this place."
I don't like him...
And I don't care.
"Proud of that?"
"Definitely," he replied with a smile, and I followed him into the kitchen, and it turned out that it wasn't a kitchen, but a living room with a big flat-screen TV, and a bed, made. I sat down on it, and he did too, and lowered the volume on the TV.
"Simpsons?"
"Let's not discuss my choice of TV-show, okay? What did you want to ask?"
"This will sound fuckin' stupid, but is something rising? Like, a titan?"
"Something is going on, I don't know if it's a titan, but it's not plausible," he answered.
"Because they've already risen? But they can do it again, can't they? Because something's going on."
"I didn't say that nothing was going on. And they had help last time, and I don't know who would be either stupid enough to bring them back again, or have the resources needed.
"Resources?" I asked, and then smiled when Maggie climbed the roof on the screen.
"Yeah, power. You'd need lots, and also have a big social network. And then, someone would've picked it up and he'd have been dispatched," Mikhail explained, and also turned his attention to the screen. Together, we watched the Simpsons. Until...
"Who stopped them the last time?" I asked. I couldn't help my curiosity.
"The Charmed Ones," he said with contempt.
"What's so bad with them?"
"They are a force of good," he said as if it explained everything.
You still don't know about the Charmed Ones? Haven't told you anything about it... They were the ones to kill me...Tried to, at least...
"Did they kill the Source?"
"Uh, yes, they did. But that was years ago, you were just a child then."
"Doesn't stop me from knowing anything about them, does it?"
"I guess. Though I'd say that their defeat pf Zankhou was more impressive"
What! I did not go through that for nothing... And they did not vanquish Zankhou... Impossible...
"Why? I- wasn't the Source powerful?"
"Yes, he was, but I am still of the opinion that the vanquish of Zankhou was far more impressive as the Source couldn't vanquish him himself, just lock him up. And the lockup was also impressive, very inventive."
Much better...
"Who are they? They're charmed, big deal."
"Really, it is. They're from a long line of powerful witches, there was prophecy about them," Mikhail said.
"So they're a family of charmed people? But what is it? A spell passed down through the generations, like a secret recipe or something?"
"No, not like that. They are three sisters, chosen for killing demons and the like."
"Just three sisters?" I asked, disbelieving.
"Actually, because their mother had an affair with her whitelighter, which is forbidden, they were four, however, one died," he said, grinning.
"Happy that the good also break the rules?"
"Yes, what do you say nowadays, awe- no that's wrong. Definitely!" he exclaimed.
"Fuck yeah is what you say, and how old are you?"
"Old. I grew up in the Soviet union," he said. At my blank look he elaborated. "Used to be Russia and countries next to Russia. It dissolved 1991."
"The eighties is ancient," I joked.
"Not the eighties."
"The sixties?"
He shook his head.
"Fifties?"
He shook his head, again.
"Forties?"
"You're getting closer. That's when i died. Starvation." I looked at him.
"Twenties?"
"Correct."
"From the Soviet union, which is Russia?"
"Not exactly."
"But your native language is Russian?"
"Yes it is," he answered and then he turned his attention back to the TV.
After some time, he asked: "You want any food?"
"No. I'll have to go," I told him.
"More to me, then. And you go outside, close the door and find a quiet alley that you shimmer from. No more shimmering right in, it's considered... mean, by the bigger part of the demonic population, you'll get killed if you continue on like that," he told me, and I left.
Why didn't you tell me that?
I wanted to see what would happen... If you would die or not... Maybe come back... You did it last time...
What last time?
I calmly walked up the street to the house, and right outside I could smell the smell of burnt meat, and I felt at home.
Strange things make you feel at home, huh?
Dinner was everyday stuff.
"Benjy, learned anything in school today?" dad asked.
"Like what?" I grunted, and continued my futile attempts at cutting the meat to bite-sized chunks.
It looks a bit like human meat... You sure that humans aren't cannibals?
Yup. But then grandma has an uncanny ability to make everything look like crap.
"Sorry?" I asked as I heard dad end a sentence.
"Like math, you really like math, don't you? If your grades are any indication."
"I didn't have math today."
"Cookie," he said.
Cookie?
Okie-dokie with a c.
Huh...
It's ridiculous.
I gave up trying to make something of the meat, and instead attacked the potato mash, which of course,were made from pulver, and too much water. In fact, it reminded me much more of soup than potato mash.
"I don't think that even whiskey can save this potato mash, Ben," grandpa said, he sat next to me and his expression was so sad that it was pitiful.
You pity him... You shouldn't pity an old, human mortal...
I do, because he's my fuckin' grandpa.
"Grandma, could I get a spoon for the soup?" Grandma's expression turned sour.
"Oh, don't bother, Benjy. It's time for dessert, and I bought donuts today!"dad cried out cheerfully.
There was frantic action around the table, as everybody hurried to get a doughnut.
And the baby started crying for being left behind.
I took two donuts, and went up to my room munching.
Your every day dinner.
I sat down on my desk after having moved everything on the chair and the table to my bed, which was now looking like a table on rickety legs with all my belongings on top.
As I sat there doing my homework, I smelled burnt plastic. And then I also heard Joanie's laugh, and Jamie cry.
Do you know what they are up to?
No, I don't, for some fuckin' strange reason.
Are you going to find out?
Joanie's probably burning some of Jamie's stuff up, or whatever., it's not that big of a deal.
Aren't you the least bit curious?
You are the one curious, but fine.
I walked out of my room, and to Joanie and Jamie's room, where, just as i had predicted, Joanie was burning up Jamie's firetruck. Oh, the irony.
I leaned against the door frame. "That's good for the irony, Joanie," I said.
"Irony? Don't you mean iron? Or island, I think that those words are pretty much the same," Joanie said.
I laughed.
"It's not funny!" Jamie bawled, his face red. The Source chuckled in my head, then it went to full-blown laughter I couldn't help but smile.
"Ben, what did you do?" Grandma came and asked, looking like all that she wanted to do was to mysteriously find a gun and then shoot me.
"Nothing, why the fuck do you think I did something?"
"Because you're usually the perpetrator, Ben," grandma answered. She had obviously done too many crosswords.
"So then you just assume that it's me? Why the hell would I upset them? I usually avoid 'em!"
the fire on Jamie's firetruck catapulted itself into the air.
Calm down...
I took deep breaths, turned on my heel and walked back to my room, hands fuckin' itchin' to throw a fireball.
AN: so, what do you think? And please review, and give your opinion, it would mean os much for me, and the time it takes for the next chapter to come. Also, if you'd actually give your opinion, please say pros and cons, too.