Post by mostaff on Apr 3, 2008 21:50:11 GMT -5
CHARMED
THE TRUE FACE OF DESTINY
CHAPTER ONE
Snow swirled out side the windows of the car. Bitter old wind drove that snow, making Darryl Morris doubly glad to be sheltered form it. A cold, starless, moonless night on Boston’s oldest docks was not where he wanted to be. Boston in February was not where Darryl wanted to be. All this artic air was not to his liking. He had grown up in southern California, where winter was more like a mild autumn.
Even after moving to San Francisco, winters were easy to take. Compared to this. Dealing with waste deep snow and icy roads was a pain to get used to. Even with the driver training that the Department of Homeland Security put him through, icy roads were a pain in the behind. He had wrecked two government cars and three personal cars in the years since he and his wife moved to Washington D.C. Sheila had only wrecked two, but not beyond repair, though one government car and one personal car had been destroyed in the line of duty, his wife still razzed him about having more accidents.
Thinking of his wife brought a smile to his face. He had not seen her since leaving Washington two days before. He thought for a moment about calling her. He had not had the chance yet today, but he decided against it. He would do that later, after his meeting with Sandman.
What a ridiculous name for an informant. He had been Darrel’s informant for almost a year now, but he had never actually meant him. A quick phone call, notes left in his car or on his desk, letters delivered through the mail, text messages, that was how Sandman communicated with him. Darryl had become accustomed to this cloak and dagger life style. He understood that it was a necessity in this day and age.
The scourge of communism had changed to the plague of terrorism and any one could be a terrorist. From the introverted, anti-social neo-Nazi down the street to your own grandmother, nobody was above suspicion.
How deep in Sandman was, Darryl did not know, but from his ability to find any kind of information, Darryl knew he was deep in t he inner circle of the intelligence world. No matter what Darryl needed to know, Sandman knew it before hand. He knew who was who in any circle and what was happening in any country around the world. That, by itself, told Darryl that this man was a spook. A term used in the intelligence community to describe a person that officially did not exist. A person that could assume any identity and could move around freely and undetected. Sandman was more ghost than person.
A light tapping on the passenger w2indow startled Darryl enough for him to pull his 9mm Glock from under his right thigh and swing it toward the noise. A quarter of a second after he realized there was nobody outside the window, Darryl rolled out of the car, aiming his weapon under the light colored sedan.
No legs!
No tracks!
Another quarter of a second and Darryl had his feet under him and was moving to the back of the car, eyes and weapon scanning the surroundings as one.
He was out of the drivers seat and behind the car in less time than most people could open a car door, breathing even and still looking at everything around him. Nothing around him looked like a human form. A sudden knot cinched-up in the bottom of his gut at the same time that his little voice warned him that this was not normal, just the way it used to happen back in San Francisco.
“I don’t miss this part of it.” He thought as a feeling of dread spread through him.
Darryl was crouched with his back to the car when he heard a muffled voice say his name. It sounded like it was coming from in front of him, but he could not be sure with the snow and wind.
“Darryl.” The voice came again. “It’s Sandman.”
Darryl did not respond. He had not told anyone a bout this informant, but he could not be sure that some one from Sandman’s end of the pipeline was playing him. Drawing him out to plug an information leak.
“Oh, for Christ sake, Darryl.” The voice came again, followed by a figure stepping out from behind a stack of wooden creates. “I told you I need your help this time.”
Darryl stood up, weapon at full extension, aimed at the figures’ head. “Well, that you did.” Darryl said, taking a couple of steps closer to insure an accurate shot. “But I still don’t know you from anyone else.”
“The very first time we spoke,” The voice said, “You started to tell me your history with Homeland Security. Do you remember what I told you?”
“If you think I’m going to tell you,” Darryl said, “I’m smarter than you thought.”
“I told you to never divulge anything about the real you,.”
“Exact words.” Darryl said, lowering his Glock, but he kept it in hand. “So, okay. I guess you’re Sandman.”
Sandman came close enough for Darryl to see the smile on his face. A smile that was confident and unnerving at the same time. At once Darrell was sure that this man was Sandman.
“Very good.” Sandman said. “Textbook. Take the edge off by agreeing, but keep the weapon in plain view. Shows you’re ready to except, but not to be jerked around.”
“So what do you need help with?” Darryl asked, nerves rattling again when he noticed that Sandman had left no tracks behind him. He also noticed, out of his peripheral vision, the twin furrows he had cut through the fresh powder. His knot cinched-up a little tighter.
“Some one’s coming in tonight.” Sandman told him. “The warehouse at the end down there is the point of entry.”
“So why call me?” Darryl asked. “Sounds like you need I.N.S. or Border Patrol.”
“This falls into your area of expertise.” Sandman told him. “We’ve got to get moving. If my intel is right, then they should be bringing him in any minute.”
“They?” Darryl asked, falling in step beside Sandman. “I hope you brought back-up.”
“Yea.” Sandman said, moving with a smooth quickness that Darryl could barely keep up with.
“Where are they?” Darryl asked, starting to puff a little.
“You’re right here.” Sandman told him.
Darryl grabbed Sandman’s arm and slid to a stop. It took Darryl several feet of sliding to pull Sandman to a stop. As he turned to the other man, Darryl noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that there was only one set of tracks behind them.
“Two things.” Darryl said, “First, how dumb are you? Two of us? How many people are in there?”
“I would guess fourteen” Sandman said. “The other thirteen-”
Darryl could not get past the number. While thirteen was historically unlucky, starting with the knights templar, it was also a common number in the dark arts of magic. That coupled with the fact that Sandman was leaving no tracks in fresh powdery snow cinched that knot in his gut all the way up.
“I go no farther until you level with me.” Darryl said, looking into eyes that seemed to hold more knowledge and wisdom than age.
“The fourteenth man will kill those that brought him here.” Sandman told him.
“And that don’t bother you?” Darryl asked, awed by Sandman’s casual manner. “One man killing thirteen men by himself. And just what is your interest in this man to begin with? Your outfit need another war machine?”
Sandman chuckled lightly and smiled merrily at Darryl. “I guess you have no idea what’s going on here tonight. I thought you would have pieced it together a little better than this, what with your background and all. But, then I have a full understanding of what’s at stake here and you don’t.”
“So enlighten me.” Darryl told him. “I don’t like secrets. Especially when they could get me killed.”
“The Angel of Death is not coming for you tonight.” Sandman told him. “The one that is coming in is here on official business. Business from a much higher authority.”
“To hell with you and all your cryptic mumbo jumbo.” Darryl told him, “I’m about two seconds from bailing on you unless you start talking in plain English.”
Sandman seemed pleased by this and just clapped Darryl on the shoulder. “You won’t bail on me. You know too much now to let well enough alone. Your sense of good and evil is kicking in as we speak and you already know that you won’t bail. You know people are going to be murdered and you’re going to try to stop that from happening. Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead and walk away. You can’t. You know you can’t, but you’re still going to play that card anyway.
“What kind of sonofabitch are you?” Darryl asked, but did not wait for an answer. “You know that thirteen people are going to be murdered and you’re alright with that. And you don’t seemed to be the least concerned about the one doing the killing. If this badass can take out thirteen people, what the hell makes you think he won’t turn on us?”
“I know this man.” Sandman told him. “He could kill us in the blink of an eye, but he won’t. You have to trust me, Darryl. You’ve went on trust before. Plenty of times when you were working with the sisters.”
Darryl stumbled back a step like he had been physically struck. The sisters could only refer to the Halliwell sisters in San Francisco. But how could Sandman know about that? But then, that would show up with a simple back ground check. The more important question would be why it would make a difference. The quick answer would be that it concerned them. In that case, it would deal with the supernatural. In that case, Darryl was not sure he wanted any part of it. That was a part of his life he was more than happy to put behind him. All that witchy stuff had never set well with him. Not that he did not believe in all that, but because he felt powerless against all the threats that had came along while he had been working with the Halliwells. Having to depend on some one else to pull his fat out of the fire was something that goaded him endlessly. The fact that he had been put in that position by the sisters was the point. He was the big bad cop that was supposed to save and protect the masses. Even the witches.
“Why bring them up?” Darryl asked. “Does this have anything to do with them?”
“Would it make a difference?” Sandman asked. “You left them behind, right? You want no more to do with them and their witchy ways.”
“Now you have my interest.” Darryl told him. “It has plenty to do with them. What’s going on here? You know too much to be anything but some kind witch or something. What’s your connection with the sisters?”
“I have no connection.” Sandman told him. “Yet, that is. That is the whole idea of this. I need to talk with them, but they would never trust me if I didn’t help them with a certain matter before hand.”
“What matter would that be?” Darryl growled, anger raising quickly at the intended deception. “Who the hell are you bringing in and what is it’s purpose? And why the deception? I could have been your intro to them.”
“Would you have just taken me to them without questions?” Sandman asked, then answered his own question. “No, you wouldn’t have. You would not have trusted me enough for that. You know them far better than you know me, so your loyalties would be with them and not with me. It would have taken far more to convince you of my intensions than it would to do it this way. As for who is coming in, that will be answered shortly. But I must warn you, Darryl, that it is all for the best. Trust that I know what I am doing. I have brought you into something that is far larger than you could know at this point, and quite frankly, I don’t have the time to fully brief you on this. Just trust me one last time.”
Darryl looked Sandman up and down as if seeing him for the first time. He was not sure about this man standing before him. He had questions in the past about this elusive character in the past, but now, there were even more questions. Not the least of which was how he was able to walk through fresh snow without leaving any tracks. But with a couple of questions answered, that really did not have any importance. Darryl knew now that this man was from a world he had not wanted any further contact with. But he also knew that Sandman had been right. Darryl would not have just taken this man to the sisters. He had know idea what this man was up to, so to involve them would be out of the question.
“Just what the hell are you?” Darryl asked, turning in the direction that they had been walking in. “It’s starting to come into focus. I know you’re from that witchy world, but what exactly are you? And do you mean any harm to the Halliwells?”
“That’s more like it.” Sandman told him, falling into step beside Darryl. “I mean no harm at all to the sisters. I just need their help. As for what I am, I used to be a man like you. Some one who spent his life doing what he thought was right and good. What I am now, is a man that has learned a few truths that are not commonly known. I’m still doing what I have to do to do the right thing.”
“That tells me everything.” Darryl told him and resigned himself to the fact that this man would give no more information than he already had. “At least tell me your name. Sandman is a stupid name.”
“Sanderson.” Sandman told him. “Julius Sanderson. Don’t bother looking it up when we’re done here. You won’t find out anything more than you already know. I made sure of that years ago.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Darryl told him. “So who are you bringing in? Or is that a state secret too.”
“Some one else from that witchy world, as you call it.” Julius told him. “I doubt you would approve, but I know you know him. So I’ll just let that be a surprise.”
“I would’ve never guessed that would be your answer.” Darryl said softly as they approached an old warehouse at the end of the dock.
The structure looked as though it had been standing for the better part of two centuries, half of that time needing repainting. The doors were shut and there were no windows on the front facade. Darryl noticed an abundance of human tracks leading to a small door on their right. Around the edges of the old door that lead into the building, light could be seen shining.
“Looks like the gangs’ all here.” Darryl told Julius and the later pulled him towards the corner of the old building.
“Maybe.” Julius said, “But we are not going in that way. Don’t want to be seen, ya know.”
“I thought they were working for you.” Darryl said. “But then, I guess you don’t want the lambs to know who led them to the slaughter.”
“They have no idea that I led them here.” Julius told him. “They don’t know anything about me. All they know is that some one has need of who they are bringing in.”
“Figures.”
Julius gripped Darryl’s arm and looked him strait in the eyes, saying , “Ready?”
Before Darryl could answer the question, they soared strait up in the air to a window that seemed to open all by itself. Darryl had to bite back a yell of surprise as they settled on the cat walk that ran around the top of the warehouse. It had happened so quickly that he had not had time to yell outside. Darryl turned to Julius and whispered harshly, “Goddamn you. Don’t ever do that again.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Julius told him. “It was the only way in. Now just settle down and watch what happens. You’ll find this very interesting.”
Darryl knelt down by the hand railing and looked down at the scene twenty feet below. A soft muttering of a chant drifted up to him from the circle of cloaked figures that were surrounded by a ring of torches. All thirteen figures on the floor were dressed in long black cloaks with red pentagrams on their backs. Darryl knew what was going on, to a point, but that did not help that knot in his gut. His mind was telling him that this was not going to end well, even knowing that all the men on the floor was going to die. That did not set well with Darryl. Even though they were pulling in something that should not be here, these men should not die for it. It just did not seem right.
“Do not interfere.” Julius told him, making Darryl think that the man could read his mind. “This has to happen. Just trust me.”
“Who are they bringing in.” Darryl asked one last time.
“If I told you that, you would not let it happen.” Came the reply that sent waves of ice through Darryl.
“That’s it.” Darryl said, standing up. “I’m putting a stop to this right now.”
“Too late for that.” Julius told him, and Darryl saw things happen down there that he could not explain.
As the flames from the torches flared several feet in the air, swirls of white and black light churned in separate columns, taller than the men forming the circle. As the columns of swirling orbs got denser, a small man stepped forward and spoke in a language Darryl had not heard before. The columns of orbs flashed into pillars of flames then vanished, leaving two figures that Darryl had thought the world at large was rid of forever. Where the black orbs had been stood a demon that scared the crap out him. Balthazar had always had that effect on him. The other pillar had left Cole Turner standing down there, looking around like he was inspecting the place and not liking what he saw. Then his eyes fell on the small man in front of him. Darryl could not make out what Cole was saying, but it appeared not to set well with the small man, who backed away from Cole and almost shouted a short phrase.
Instantly, flames engulfed the two figures in the middle of the circle and shrunk down to leave only the form of Balthazar. He chuckled dryly and changed into Cole Turner. Even from twenty feet above him, Darryl could hear the groan that came form Cole. It was the sound of pure agony.
“Where’s Phoebe?” Cole asked, looking at his shoes.
That one question sent shivers down Darryl’s spine. After all this time, after all the hell everybody had went through, the only thing on Cole’s mind was Phoebe. Nothing had changed since he had been vanquished.
“Who?” the small man asked.
“Don’t be stupid.” Cole warned. “Phoebe was supposed to be here.”
“I don’t know anyone named Phoebe.” The man told him, worry plain in his voice.
“The only reason I agreed to do this is I was told Phoebe was in trouble.” Cole told him, as one of the cloaked figures in the circle burst into flames. “I want to know where she is.”
All the cloaked figures stepped back, looking at their brother burning on the floor. Cole reached out with one hand and lifted the small man off of the floor without touching him.
“Where is Phoebe?” He asked again.
“Cole!” A sharp voice rang out.
For an instant, Darryl thought Phoebe had spoken. In the blink of an eye, Darryl knew it was not Phoebe. An older woman was standing by Cole, a woman Darryl knew was dead. Penny Halliwell had a hand on Coles’ arm and looking at him in that way strong women have, stern yet soft and caring. It stopped Cole cold.
“You were not told Phoebe would be here.” Penny told him. “You were told that the Charmed ones needed help. Patty should never have told you that Phoebe was in trouble.”
“Phoebe isn’t in trouble?” Cole asked and let go of the small man. He straitened his suit and looked around the circle like he was seeing them for the first time. “Terribly sorry ‘bout that.” He said, grinning and pointing to the pile of ash that had once been a man. “Balthazar took over there. Won’t happen again.”
“Don’t restrain that half of you.” Penny told him. “Balance and center yourself. Have you learned nothing?”
“Oh, I’ve learned a lot.” Cole told her. “I’m centered and balanced. I just hope it gets easier. Balthazar wants to take control.”
“Make piece with yourself.” Penny told him. “He’s simply a part of the whole. “The part where the control of your power comes from.”
All the remaining cloaked figures fell over dead, no flames, no fire balls, they just fell dead. Cole looked around at them and grinned as if satisfied with an experiment.
“Yip.” Cole said. “Works better like that.”
Penny’s face clouded with anger, but her words were cut off when Cole sobered and told her, “I told you that when this is done, I will never come back. They knew how to do it. Now they won’t bring me back for the,…how many times does this make again?”
“There are better ways than killing.”
“Just remember, Penny.” Cole said coldly. “You came to me. If you don’t like the way I work, then you should’ve asked some one else. I’m here for Phoebe. I won’t try anything with her, but I won’t let anything hurt her, either. That’s why you came to me.”
“Just think before you do anything.” Penny told him as Cole stooped down to the dead man at his feet and pulled a cigar pouch from under the mans’ cloak. After lighting one, he looked at Penny and told her around the fat cigar, “I have missed these. Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Smelly is what it is.” Penny told him, waving a hand through the cloud of smoke. “Now, the first thing you need to do is-”
“Talk to Darryl.” Cole cut her off as he waved a hand and floated Darryl down the floor beside him.
“I wish you people would stop that.” Darryl growled, fighting for balance when his feet touched the floor. ”I know you have the power, but you don’t have to rub my nose in it.”
Cole tossed him a cigar and told him, “Calm your nerves, Darryl. I can feel your stress and, damn, it’s giving me a head ache.” Cole held out a finger that was a flame and Darryl coaxed the cigar to light. “You’re buddy, Sandman. He cut out on you.”
“Coward.” Darryl said.
“He hasn’t survived twelve centuries by being stupid.” Cole told him.
“He knows he’s at the top of my list now. He’s the one that taught these poor souls how to bring me back.”
“Twelve centuries?” Darryl asked, amazed. “He’s been alive for twelve centuries? How is that possible?”
“You don’t need to know that right now.” Penny told him, then turned to Cole and said, “You know, I told him how to do it. Am I on your list, too?”
“You’re already dead.” Cole told her. “What more could I morally do to you?”
“Morally?” Darryl asked in a cough. “You’re concerned with morality?”
“I’ve turned over a new leaf..” Cole told him.
“Gee,” Darryl said, looking around at the dead. “I had no idea.”
“Morality exists only on this plain.” Cole told him. “Good and Evil are human concepts that tend to change with time. They are not absolute because they only exist here. When you die, you will remember the whole of your existence, all of them, and you’ll see just how ridiculous morality really is.”
“I don’t follow you.” Darryl said. “All of them, what?”
“Past lives.” Penny told him. “There’ll be time for that later. What you need to concern yourself with right now is what that friend of yours’ is really up to.”
“He told me that he needs the girl’s help.” Darryl told her. “But you two seem to know more about him than I do.”
“Not really.” Cole told him. “I can’t seem to get any kind of information on him.”
“Well, you’ve been dead for several years.” Darryl told him.
Cole clapped Darryl on the back and told him, “I’m sure you’ll catch up sooner or later, just don’t strain yourself trying to understand.”
Standing there with Coles’ arm around his shoulders, Darryl suddenly realized that he was totally at ease here. Standing and talking with Cole was like it had been in the days when Cole had lost his Demon half and was just a regular person. Darryl was not afraid or uncomfortable around the man that had caused so much pain and suffering in the Halliwell clan. He knew that the Demon half was back with Cole, but that did not seem to matter. Darryl was still almost at ease.
“So catch me up.” Darryl told him.
“Alright.”
As Cole talked about guardians and ages old secrets and keepers of the guardians and plots, he found he could almost understand the whole thing.. And when he walked away from Cole and Penny, he decided not to report the dead bodies or go back to the field office. In stead of doing what his job called for, he called his wife and told her to pack a bag and book two seats on a flight to San Francisco. After assuring her that would be home in three days, he got in his car and went back to his hotel, stopping off at the bar before heading up to his room.
THE TRUE FACE OF DESTINY
CHAPTER ONE
Snow swirled out side the windows of the car. Bitter old wind drove that snow, making Darryl Morris doubly glad to be sheltered form it. A cold, starless, moonless night on Boston’s oldest docks was not where he wanted to be. Boston in February was not where Darryl wanted to be. All this artic air was not to his liking. He had grown up in southern California, where winter was more like a mild autumn.
Even after moving to San Francisco, winters were easy to take. Compared to this. Dealing with waste deep snow and icy roads was a pain to get used to. Even with the driver training that the Department of Homeland Security put him through, icy roads were a pain in the behind. He had wrecked two government cars and three personal cars in the years since he and his wife moved to Washington D.C. Sheila had only wrecked two, but not beyond repair, though one government car and one personal car had been destroyed in the line of duty, his wife still razzed him about having more accidents.
Thinking of his wife brought a smile to his face. He had not seen her since leaving Washington two days before. He thought for a moment about calling her. He had not had the chance yet today, but he decided against it. He would do that later, after his meeting with Sandman.
What a ridiculous name for an informant. He had been Darrel’s informant for almost a year now, but he had never actually meant him. A quick phone call, notes left in his car or on his desk, letters delivered through the mail, text messages, that was how Sandman communicated with him. Darryl had become accustomed to this cloak and dagger life style. He understood that it was a necessity in this day and age.
The scourge of communism had changed to the plague of terrorism and any one could be a terrorist. From the introverted, anti-social neo-Nazi down the street to your own grandmother, nobody was above suspicion.
How deep in Sandman was, Darryl did not know, but from his ability to find any kind of information, Darryl knew he was deep in t he inner circle of the intelligence world. No matter what Darryl needed to know, Sandman knew it before hand. He knew who was who in any circle and what was happening in any country around the world. That, by itself, told Darryl that this man was a spook. A term used in the intelligence community to describe a person that officially did not exist. A person that could assume any identity and could move around freely and undetected. Sandman was more ghost than person.
A light tapping on the passenger w2indow startled Darryl enough for him to pull his 9mm Glock from under his right thigh and swing it toward the noise. A quarter of a second after he realized there was nobody outside the window, Darryl rolled out of the car, aiming his weapon under the light colored sedan.
No legs!
No tracks!
Another quarter of a second and Darryl had his feet under him and was moving to the back of the car, eyes and weapon scanning the surroundings as one.
He was out of the drivers seat and behind the car in less time than most people could open a car door, breathing even and still looking at everything around him. Nothing around him looked like a human form. A sudden knot cinched-up in the bottom of his gut at the same time that his little voice warned him that this was not normal, just the way it used to happen back in San Francisco.
“I don’t miss this part of it.” He thought as a feeling of dread spread through him.
Darryl was crouched with his back to the car when he heard a muffled voice say his name. It sounded like it was coming from in front of him, but he could not be sure with the snow and wind.
“Darryl.” The voice came again. “It’s Sandman.”
Darryl did not respond. He had not told anyone a bout this informant, but he could not be sure that some one from Sandman’s end of the pipeline was playing him. Drawing him out to plug an information leak.
“Oh, for Christ sake, Darryl.” The voice came again, followed by a figure stepping out from behind a stack of wooden creates. “I told you I need your help this time.”
Darryl stood up, weapon at full extension, aimed at the figures’ head. “Well, that you did.” Darryl said, taking a couple of steps closer to insure an accurate shot. “But I still don’t know you from anyone else.”
“The very first time we spoke,” The voice said, “You started to tell me your history with Homeland Security. Do you remember what I told you?”
“If you think I’m going to tell you,” Darryl said, “I’m smarter than you thought.”
“I told you to never divulge anything about the real you,.”
“Exact words.” Darryl said, lowering his Glock, but he kept it in hand. “So, okay. I guess you’re Sandman.”
Sandman came close enough for Darryl to see the smile on his face. A smile that was confident and unnerving at the same time. At once Darrell was sure that this man was Sandman.
“Very good.” Sandman said. “Textbook. Take the edge off by agreeing, but keep the weapon in plain view. Shows you’re ready to except, but not to be jerked around.”
“So what do you need help with?” Darryl asked, nerves rattling again when he noticed that Sandman had left no tracks behind him. He also noticed, out of his peripheral vision, the twin furrows he had cut through the fresh powder. His knot cinched-up a little tighter.
“Some one’s coming in tonight.” Sandman told him. “The warehouse at the end down there is the point of entry.”
“So why call me?” Darryl asked. “Sounds like you need I.N.S. or Border Patrol.”
“This falls into your area of expertise.” Sandman told him. “We’ve got to get moving. If my intel is right, then they should be bringing him in any minute.”
“They?” Darryl asked, falling in step beside Sandman. “I hope you brought back-up.”
“Yea.” Sandman said, moving with a smooth quickness that Darryl could barely keep up with.
“Where are they?” Darryl asked, starting to puff a little.
“You’re right here.” Sandman told him.
Darryl grabbed Sandman’s arm and slid to a stop. It took Darryl several feet of sliding to pull Sandman to a stop. As he turned to the other man, Darryl noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that there was only one set of tracks behind them.
“Two things.” Darryl said, “First, how dumb are you? Two of us? How many people are in there?”
“I would guess fourteen” Sandman said. “The other thirteen-”
Darryl could not get past the number. While thirteen was historically unlucky, starting with the knights templar, it was also a common number in the dark arts of magic. That coupled with the fact that Sandman was leaving no tracks in fresh powdery snow cinched that knot in his gut all the way up.
“I go no farther until you level with me.” Darryl said, looking into eyes that seemed to hold more knowledge and wisdom than age.
“The fourteenth man will kill those that brought him here.” Sandman told him.
“And that don’t bother you?” Darryl asked, awed by Sandman’s casual manner. “One man killing thirteen men by himself. And just what is your interest in this man to begin with? Your outfit need another war machine?”
Sandman chuckled lightly and smiled merrily at Darryl. “I guess you have no idea what’s going on here tonight. I thought you would have pieced it together a little better than this, what with your background and all. But, then I have a full understanding of what’s at stake here and you don’t.”
“So enlighten me.” Darryl told him. “I don’t like secrets. Especially when they could get me killed.”
“The Angel of Death is not coming for you tonight.” Sandman told him. “The one that is coming in is here on official business. Business from a much higher authority.”
“To hell with you and all your cryptic mumbo jumbo.” Darryl told him, “I’m about two seconds from bailing on you unless you start talking in plain English.”
Sandman seemed pleased by this and just clapped Darryl on the shoulder. “You won’t bail on me. You know too much now to let well enough alone. Your sense of good and evil is kicking in as we speak and you already know that you won’t bail. You know people are going to be murdered and you’re going to try to stop that from happening. Tell me I’m wrong. Go ahead and walk away. You can’t. You know you can’t, but you’re still going to play that card anyway.
“What kind of sonofabitch are you?” Darryl asked, but did not wait for an answer. “You know that thirteen people are going to be murdered and you’re alright with that. And you don’t seemed to be the least concerned about the one doing the killing. If this badass can take out thirteen people, what the hell makes you think he won’t turn on us?”
“I know this man.” Sandman told him. “He could kill us in the blink of an eye, but he won’t. You have to trust me, Darryl. You’ve went on trust before. Plenty of times when you were working with the sisters.”
Darryl stumbled back a step like he had been physically struck. The sisters could only refer to the Halliwell sisters in San Francisco. But how could Sandman know about that? But then, that would show up with a simple back ground check. The more important question would be why it would make a difference. The quick answer would be that it concerned them. In that case, it would deal with the supernatural. In that case, Darryl was not sure he wanted any part of it. That was a part of his life he was more than happy to put behind him. All that witchy stuff had never set well with him. Not that he did not believe in all that, but because he felt powerless against all the threats that had came along while he had been working with the Halliwells. Having to depend on some one else to pull his fat out of the fire was something that goaded him endlessly. The fact that he had been put in that position by the sisters was the point. He was the big bad cop that was supposed to save and protect the masses. Even the witches.
“Why bring them up?” Darryl asked. “Does this have anything to do with them?”
“Would it make a difference?” Sandman asked. “You left them behind, right? You want no more to do with them and their witchy ways.”
“Now you have my interest.” Darryl told him. “It has plenty to do with them. What’s going on here? You know too much to be anything but some kind witch or something. What’s your connection with the sisters?”
“I have no connection.” Sandman told him. “Yet, that is. That is the whole idea of this. I need to talk with them, but they would never trust me if I didn’t help them with a certain matter before hand.”
“What matter would that be?” Darryl growled, anger raising quickly at the intended deception. “Who the hell are you bringing in and what is it’s purpose? And why the deception? I could have been your intro to them.”
“Would you have just taken me to them without questions?” Sandman asked, then answered his own question. “No, you wouldn’t have. You would not have trusted me enough for that. You know them far better than you know me, so your loyalties would be with them and not with me. It would have taken far more to convince you of my intensions than it would to do it this way. As for who is coming in, that will be answered shortly. But I must warn you, Darryl, that it is all for the best. Trust that I know what I am doing. I have brought you into something that is far larger than you could know at this point, and quite frankly, I don’t have the time to fully brief you on this. Just trust me one last time.”
Darryl looked Sandman up and down as if seeing him for the first time. He was not sure about this man standing before him. He had questions in the past about this elusive character in the past, but now, there were even more questions. Not the least of which was how he was able to walk through fresh snow without leaving any tracks. But with a couple of questions answered, that really did not have any importance. Darryl knew now that this man was from a world he had not wanted any further contact with. But he also knew that Sandman had been right. Darryl would not have just taken this man to the sisters. He had know idea what this man was up to, so to involve them would be out of the question.
“Just what the hell are you?” Darryl asked, turning in the direction that they had been walking in. “It’s starting to come into focus. I know you’re from that witchy world, but what exactly are you? And do you mean any harm to the Halliwells?”
“That’s more like it.” Sandman told him, falling into step beside Darryl. “I mean no harm at all to the sisters. I just need their help. As for what I am, I used to be a man like you. Some one who spent his life doing what he thought was right and good. What I am now, is a man that has learned a few truths that are not commonly known. I’m still doing what I have to do to do the right thing.”
“That tells me everything.” Darryl told him and resigned himself to the fact that this man would give no more information than he already had. “At least tell me your name. Sandman is a stupid name.”
“Sanderson.” Sandman told him. “Julius Sanderson. Don’t bother looking it up when we’re done here. You won’t find out anything more than you already know. I made sure of that years ago.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Darryl told him. “So who are you bringing in? Or is that a state secret too.”
“Some one else from that witchy world, as you call it.” Julius told him. “I doubt you would approve, but I know you know him. So I’ll just let that be a surprise.”
“I would’ve never guessed that would be your answer.” Darryl said softly as they approached an old warehouse at the end of the dock.
The structure looked as though it had been standing for the better part of two centuries, half of that time needing repainting. The doors were shut and there were no windows on the front facade. Darryl noticed an abundance of human tracks leading to a small door on their right. Around the edges of the old door that lead into the building, light could be seen shining.
“Looks like the gangs’ all here.” Darryl told Julius and the later pulled him towards the corner of the old building.
“Maybe.” Julius said, “But we are not going in that way. Don’t want to be seen, ya know.”
“I thought they were working for you.” Darryl said. “But then, I guess you don’t want the lambs to know who led them to the slaughter.”
“They have no idea that I led them here.” Julius told him. “They don’t know anything about me. All they know is that some one has need of who they are bringing in.”
“Figures.”
Julius gripped Darryl’s arm and looked him strait in the eyes, saying , “Ready?”
Before Darryl could answer the question, they soared strait up in the air to a window that seemed to open all by itself. Darryl had to bite back a yell of surprise as they settled on the cat walk that ran around the top of the warehouse. It had happened so quickly that he had not had time to yell outside. Darryl turned to Julius and whispered harshly, “Goddamn you. Don’t ever do that again.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Julius told him. “It was the only way in. Now just settle down and watch what happens. You’ll find this very interesting.”
Darryl knelt down by the hand railing and looked down at the scene twenty feet below. A soft muttering of a chant drifted up to him from the circle of cloaked figures that were surrounded by a ring of torches. All thirteen figures on the floor were dressed in long black cloaks with red pentagrams on their backs. Darryl knew what was going on, to a point, but that did not help that knot in his gut. His mind was telling him that this was not going to end well, even knowing that all the men on the floor was going to die. That did not set well with Darryl. Even though they were pulling in something that should not be here, these men should not die for it. It just did not seem right.
“Do not interfere.” Julius told him, making Darryl think that the man could read his mind. “This has to happen. Just trust me.”
“Who are they bringing in.” Darryl asked one last time.
“If I told you that, you would not let it happen.” Came the reply that sent waves of ice through Darryl.
“That’s it.” Darryl said, standing up. “I’m putting a stop to this right now.”
“Too late for that.” Julius told him, and Darryl saw things happen down there that he could not explain.
As the flames from the torches flared several feet in the air, swirls of white and black light churned in separate columns, taller than the men forming the circle. As the columns of swirling orbs got denser, a small man stepped forward and spoke in a language Darryl had not heard before. The columns of orbs flashed into pillars of flames then vanished, leaving two figures that Darryl had thought the world at large was rid of forever. Where the black orbs had been stood a demon that scared the crap out him. Balthazar had always had that effect on him. The other pillar had left Cole Turner standing down there, looking around like he was inspecting the place and not liking what he saw. Then his eyes fell on the small man in front of him. Darryl could not make out what Cole was saying, but it appeared not to set well with the small man, who backed away from Cole and almost shouted a short phrase.
Instantly, flames engulfed the two figures in the middle of the circle and shrunk down to leave only the form of Balthazar. He chuckled dryly and changed into Cole Turner. Even from twenty feet above him, Darryl could hear the groan that came form Cole. It was the sound of pure agony.
“Where’s Phoebe?” Cole asked, looking at his shoes.
That one question sent shivers down Darryl’s spine. After all this time, after all the hell everybody had went through, the only thing on Cole’s mind was Phoebe. Nothing had changed since he had been vanquished.
“Who?” the small man asked.
“Don’t be stupid.” Cole warned. “Phoebe was supposed to be here.”
“I don’t know anyone named Phoebe.” The man told him, worry plain in his voice.
“The only reason I agreed to do this is I was told Phoebe was in trouble.” Cole told him, as one of the cloaked figures in the circle burst into flames. “I want to know where she is.”
All the cloaked figures stepped back, looking at their brother burning on the floor. Cole reached out with one hand and lifted the small man off of the floor without touching him.
“Where is Phoebe?” He asked again.
“Cole!” A sharp voice rang out.
For an instant, Darryl thought Phoebe had spoken. In the blink of an eye, Darryl knew it was not Phoebe. An older woman was standing by Cole, a woman Darryl knew was dead. Penny Halliwell had a hand on Coles’ arm and looking at him in that way strong women have, stern yet soft and caring. It stopped Cole cold.
“You were not told Phoebe would be here.” Penny told him. “You were told that the Charmed ones needed help. Patty should never have told you that Phoebe was in trouble.”
“Phoebe isn’t in trouble?” Cole asked and let go of the small man. He straitened his suit and looked around the circle like he was seeing them for the first time. “Terribly sorry ‘bout that.” He said, grinning and pointing to the pile of ash that had once been a man. “Balthazar took over there. Won’t happen again.”
“Don’t restrain that half of you.” Penny told him. “Balance and center yourself. Have you learned nothing?”
“Oh, I’ve learned a lot.” Cole told her. “I’m centered and balanced. I just hope it gets easier. Balthazar wants to take control.”
“Make piece with yourself.” Penny told him. “He’s simply a part of the whole. “The part where the control of your power comes from.”
All the remaining cloaked figures fell over dead, no flames, no fire balls, they just fell dead. Cole looked around at them and grinned as if satisfied with an experiment.
“Yip.” Cole said. “Works better like that.”
Penny’s face clouded with anger, but her words were cut off when Cole sobered and told her, “I told you that when this is done, I will never come back. They knew how to do it. Now they won’t bring me back for the,…how many times does this make again?”
“There are better ways than killing.”
“Just remember, Penny.” Cole said coldly. “You came to me. If you don’t like the way I work, then you should’ve asked some one else. I’m here for Phoebe. I won’t try anything with her, but I won’t let anything hurt her, either. That’s why you came to me.”
“Just think before you do anything.” Penny told him as Cole stooped down to the dead man at his feet and pulled a cigar pouch from under the mans’ cloak. After lighting one, he looked at Penny and told her around the fat cigar, “I have missed these. Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Smelly is what it is.” Penny told him, waving a hand through the cloud of smoke. “Now, the first thing you need to do is-”
“Talk to Darryl.” Cole cut her off as he waved a hand and floated Darryl down the floor beside him.
“I wish you people would stop that.” Darryl growled, fighting for balance when his feet touched the floor. ”I know you have the power, but you don’t have to rub my nose in it.”
Cole tossed him a cigar and told him, “Calm your nerves, Darryl. I can feel your stress and, damn, it’s giving me a head ache.” Cole held out a finger that was a flame and Darryl coaxed the cigar to light. “You’re buddy, Sandman. He cut out on you.”
“Coward.” Darryl said.
“He hasn’t survived twelve centuries by being stupid.” Cole told him.
“He knows he’s at the top of my list now. He’s the one that taught these poor souls how to bring me back.”
“Twelve centuries?” Darryl asked, amazed. “He’s been alive for twelve centuries? How is that possible?”
“You don’t need to know that right now.” Penny told him, then turned to Cole and said, “You know, I told him how to do it. Am I on your list, too?”
“You’re already dead.” Cole told her. “What more could I morally do to you?”
“Morally?” Darryl asked in a cough. “You’re concerned with morality?”
“I’ve turned over a new leaf..” Cole told him.
“Gee,” Darryl said, looking around at the dead. “I had no idea.”
“Morality exists only on this plain.” Cole told him. “Good and Evil are human concepts that tend to change with time. They are not absolute because they only exist here. When you die, you will remember the whole of your existence, all of them, and you’ll see just how ridiculous morality really is.”
“I don’t follow you.” Darryl said. “All of them, what?”
“Past lives.” Penny told him. “There’ll be time for that later. What you need to concern yourself with right now is what that friend of yours’ is really up to.”
“He told me that he needs the girl’s help.” Darryl told her. “But you two seem to know more about him than I do.”
“Not really.” Cole told him. “I can’t seem to get any kind of information on him.”
“Well, you’ve been dead for several years.” Darryl told him.
Cole clapped Darryl on the back and told him, “I’m sure you’ll catch up sooner or later, just don’t strain yourself trying to understand.”
Standing there with Coles’ arm around his shoulders, Darryl suddenly realized that he was totally at ease here. Standing and talking with Cole was like it had been in the days when Cole had lost his Demon half and was just a regular person. Darryl was not afraid or uncomfortable around the man that had caused so much pain and suffering in the Halliwell clan. He knew that the Demon half was back with Cole, but that did not seem to matter. Darryl was still almost at ease.
“So catch me up.” Darryl told him.
“Alright.”
As Cole talked about guardians and ages old secrets and keepers of the guardians and plots, he found he could almost understand the whole thing.. And when he walked away from Cole and Penny, he decided not to report the dead bodies or go back to the field office. In stead of doing what his job called for, he called his wife and told her to pack a bag and book two seats on a flight to San Francisco. After assuring her that would be home in three days, he got in his car and went back to his hotel, stopping off at the bar before heading up to his room.