Post by StoryGirl83 on Aug 31, 2009 20:16:11 GMT -5
Chapter Nine – Blood in the Kitchen
Flashback
Ever since Bianca and her family had left Chris hadn’t been able to drop a feeling of unease. He didn’t know how many times he had almost picked up the phone to call his mom and ask if there was anyone who could come in for him. He wanted to know what was going on, why she wanted to talk to him and Wyatt. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that Callie wouldn’t run a shift and Drinka wouldn't cook, which meant the only person he could really call was his mom and she needed to be with Wyatt more than he did.
He let out a breath and forced his attention back to the stove where he was finishing a meal. He glanced toward the door wondering when it would open letting someone in. All night Ty, Emily, Chelsea, and the rest of the waiting staff had been in and out of the kitchen with orders. It seemed that the time was slowing down with every minute that ticked by.
If he didn’t know better he would think that someone had cast a spell on the clock or something. And while in his world that wasn’t impossible, it was also ridiculous. Why would anyone cast a spell on a clock?
“Dreaming, Mr. Chef?” an amused voice asked from behind him.
Chris turned around and cast a sheepish look at Emily. “Sorry, just worried about my brother.”
“He’ll get better,” she told him confidently. “You’ll see.”
He gave her a half smile. “I wish I had your confidence. It’s been almost a week with no sign of recovery. And frankly the doctors seem less hopeful with every day.”
Emily shrugged. “That’s doctors for you, always giving you the worst case scenario in case something goes wrong. Besides I thought you said he was doing better.”
“Well, that’s pretty easy to do,” Chris retorted. “He is no longer bleeding to death.”
Emily’s eyes widened and her lips twitched. “Oh. Well, that’s good to know. It would be highly uncomfortable to be bleeding to death for almost a week.”
Chris stared at her, unsure what to think. Unbidden, a tiny chuckle escaped his lips. “Okay, point taken.”
“No other signs of improvement?”
Nothing bad. Don’t worry about it.
Wyatt’s words earlier forced their way to the front of his thoughts. “I don’t know. He said something earlier and I think that’s bugging me. I don’t know what he meant.”
Emily looked at him thoughtfully. After several seconds, she spoke. “Look, there are no new customers in the dining room, so after you finish those up for me, I’ll take them out and you’ll have a chance to breath. Why don’t you use that to call your brother and find out exactly what he did mean?”
Chris looked at her oddly. “You seem pretty clear headed. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I usually think pretty clearly.” He took one of the pans off the stove and grabbing a plate, started transferring the contents to it.
Emily just shrugged. “Hey, if this was one of my brothers I doubt I’d be thinking too clearly either. Since it just so happens that my brothers are both safe and sound at the moment, I’m not too stressed. You on the other hand have a lot on your mind.” She grabbed a platter and started placing the plates on it. When she finished she grinned at him and headed out of the room without a word.
Chris let out a huge breath and carried the pans over to the sink, wondering how to broach the question with his brother. Why wasn’t this easy?
Behind him a figure shimmered into the room. She eyed all the knives in the room and grabbed one into her gloved hand, pushing her athemé back into its sheath. Without a sound she crept up behind Chris, who was pulling out his cell phone. Still without a sound she lifted the knife and stabbed.
At the last second something alerted Chris and he whirled around, not about to orb when for all he knew it was Emily. The movement avoided the worst of it, but the knife still stabbed deep into his side, cutting a deep gash into him. He squashed down the scream of pain that wanted to escape his mouth and focused on Vera.
Even though she had injured him, she was annoyed that she hadn’t hit anything vital. She stabbed at him, again.
Holding his side, as blood seeped steadily out, Chris barely avoided the knife. As more blood poured out of him he was beginning to feel the effects in other places besides his side. His head was spinning, but not so much so that he missed the sound of the swinging doors from the dining room being pushed open. Ignoring his pain, he waved his hand at the door forcing it into the face of the person trying to enter.
Thankful that the door distracted his attacker, too, he ignored the explanation from the dining hall that appeared to belong to Ty. He figured he had only a few seconds before Ty tried the door, again. That wasn’t enough time to fight off his attacker. He had to end this attack before someone innocent got hurt. With his free hand he felt behind him for some sort of weapon. There was no way he’d be able to focus enough to use his powers.
Sure enough the door swung open and Ty started in, mumbling as he went, “Who knew that doors attacked people . . .” He spotted Chris trying to fend off Vera and he went white as a sheet.
Vera sent Ty and annoyed look and Chris took his opportunity. He slammed a pot he’d grabbed right into her head. She went down hard, but she wasn’t knocked out. She glared at him and out of the view of the stunned Ty, she shimmered out.
Chris forced himself to stay conscious. He was not going to the hospital and the only way to prevent that was to stay conscious and convince Ty he didn’t need to.
“Where is she?” Ty asked as he came around the counter to look at Chris worried. Seeing the blood on the floor, he grimaced.
“Who?” Chris asked, not because he didn’t know, but because he wanted to know what Ty knew.
“The woman attacking you,” Ty responded, looking around. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Chris replied, honestly. He knew how she had vanished, but not where she was.
It was then that Ty finally realized where the blood on the floor was coming from. “Oh my word! She got you?”
“I’ll be okay,” Chris tried to assure him. “I think there are gauze pads in my mom’s office. Get those please.”
Ty hesitated, but one last glance at Chris’ side and he ran into Piper’s office.
“Who wrote it?” Chris asked, peering over his father’s shoulder.
Leo looked at the bottom of the page. “No name. Try calling Josias, Chris.”
“Huh?” Chris looked at his father confused. “Why?”
“If he’s still a whitelighter, he might be able to tell us something.”
“So?” Chris still didn’t get it. “He’s not my whitelighter. He wouldn’t hear me.”
Leo smiled slightly. “You’re half elder.”
Chris stared at his father blankly. “You want me to try and elder jingle a whitelighter?”
Leo nodded.
Chris had been stunned when it had worked. And now maybe he needed it to work again. I guess I need a whitelighter, but who to call? I only know a handful of them and I already know I can’t call Hank and Aunt Paige ignores the elders. And I doubt Josias would be very happy to hear from me.
Chris’ train of thought was interrupted by Ty’s return. He approached Chris and asked, “Want some help with that?”
Chris shook his head and reached out his clean hand for the gauze. “What I want is for you to let the guests know that due to an incident in the kitchen we will not be serving anything else tonight. And don’t let the staff in here.”
“What about the police?”
“Don’t call them.”
“But why? She injured you.”
“Please, Ty. Just tell the girls that I was injured and while I will be all right we are going to close early.”
“But is it true?” Ty persisted, not liking this one bit. “Will you be all right?”
I will be if I can get help soon, Chris thought as he nodded. He held out his free hand for the gauze, and then changed his mind. “Just put the gauze on the counter there, and I will take care of binding this wound.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ty told him with a frown. “You need help with that.”
“What I need is for you to keep the rest of the staff out of here, especially Emily and Becky.”
“Becky would never leave her post so far as to enter the kitchen.”
“Well, Emily then. I know Chelsea can handle blood, but . . .”
“Their age is not a hindrance you know,” Ty insisted.
“Perhaps not, but it doesn’t mean they should be exposed to it if it can be avoided, and I seem to bleed a lot.”
Ty stared at him for several seconds, but it was the sound of footsteps that decided it for him. He ran toward the door, dropping the unopened package of gauze on the floor in front of Chris, and pushed it open. “Sorry, Chelsea, kitchen’s closed.”
Chris didn’t hear Chelsea’s answer, but watched momentarily as Ty took charge of the dining room from the kitchen door. As soon as the door swung shut before him he closed his eyes and focused on the power he hadn’t wanted when he discovered it almost two months before. He focused his thoughts on finding a certain whitelighter and then called her name. “Mikelle!”
Mikelle Zealand orbed in seconds later. She took in the scene and looked at Chris. “Should I ask?”
“Heal first, please,” Chris requested, “and just me, not my clothes or clean up the blood. Just me.”
Mikelle raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
Chris glared at her. “Mikelle.”
Mikelle got down on her knees next to him and held her hands over his wound. They glowed gold and the gaping wound in his side healed up. “Any more strange requests?”
“Someone saw my wound,” Chris offered by way of explanation.
Mikelle nodded as if that explained everything. “Mortal?”
Chris nodded.
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to dust them?” she asked curious.
Chris frowned, at first trying to figure out what she was talking about and then realizing just frowning deeper. “Dust? As in memory dust?”
Mikelle nodded.
Chris stopped and gave it fair consideration and then shook his head. “No, I can’t use that as an easy fix. Besides it can be dangerous. You never know how much they will forget and what. What if I used too much? No, that needs to be a last resort only.”
Mikelle nodded. The smile on her face was a little suspicious. “All right. I will be on my way then.”
“Mikelle?”
“Hmm?”
“How are my aunt and her family adjusting?”
Mikelle smiled. “If you mean Prue, Andy, and the girls, they are doing good, but they’d be doing better if they got phone calls from more than just Ben and your mom.”
Chris chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Be careful,” she warned before orbing out.
He looked down at the gauze on the floor where it had dropped and frowned. And it stays on how? Magically? He got to his feet and sighed as he walked toward his mom’s office after some medical tape to keep the gauze in place.