Shape of Things to come

Shape of Things to Come

Part 2:Times they are changing

Chapter 19

Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
..........(Henry VII Scene 5 William Shakespeare )

High in the Himalayan ranges, Cole shimmered into the courtyard of the ancient monastery that was now the Guardian Proctor’s home. These days, wrapped in a thick, long jacket that Phoebe had bought him for just this purpose, he was prepared for the cold, unlike the first time he visited Proctor. Cole entered the main room of Proctor’s residence through solid wooden doors that opened off the courtyard and was relieved to see the fire roaring and feel its warmth. He called the guardian’s name, noting as he always did, the contrast between Proctor’s dark presence, the roaring fire, and the soft comfort of its antique furnishings.

Cole then waited with his back to the fire, his coat loosened but still on, a little mesmerised by the flashing screens at the end of the wall. He jumped slightly when Proctor appeared from a door almost hidden behind tapestries, near the fireplace.

“Well met brother” Proctor drawled. Dressed in his habitual black, his long lanky frame and stringy hair created an image that all but screamed demon, but somehow reassured Cole.

“Nothing particular. Just…reassuring myself.” Cole nodded awkwardly still a little intimidated by Proctor’s dark presence. “I see things happening around …my family. And I’m not interfering but…just wish to be certain that changes are just changes.” He hesitated then asked his question. “You told me that this accursed new demon believes he has the means to fracture the Power of Three” he reminded Proctor “Is this written that he does?”

“You will have to ask Brother Therold about what is written, for I do not have that knowledge.” Proctor told him, the sneer on his face wholly demonic. “But I do know that very little is certain.”

“Haven’t seen Therold for five years” Cole muttered, his lips curling. His relationship with his brother Guardian, the scribe Therold was, although no longer downright contentious, conflicted “And then only briefly.”

“This greatly relieves Francesca” Proctor replied. The sneer on his face was no longer demonic but highly amused. “But whilst I am honoured to say Therold is my friend.” His sneer became demonic again as Cole swallowed a retort. “If you need to ask what is written you must ask him. The business of my brother Guardian is not my business. I can only tell you what I know, and my wisdom is not great.”

Cole had many reasons to dispute Proctor’s statement about his wisdom, wisely kept silent even though Proctor, watcher that he was, clearly saw the disbelief written on his brother Guardian’s face.

“But the companionship of a friendly conversation pleases me” Proctor added, his expression as dry as his voice. “You will share port and cheese?” he asked, turning back to the almost hidden a door.

Cole smiled wryly. These days he was used to the ways of his brother Guardians, especially their insistent hospitality, something he suspected was directly related to the loneliness of their calling. It occurred to him, with a trickle of fear that when the time came to move on from his family, it would be a craving he would also experience.

Sitting by the fire, sharing a glass, in fact more than one glass of Proctor’s very best port, Proctor gave to Cole the wisdom he had.

“I observe change, which is expected. I am told it would be of concern to Great Magic if it were not happening at this time in the new Source’s reign” Proctor told him. “I observed change at a similar time in the last source’s reign. Before the eclipse there is change because the old source loses power and is vanquished, after the eclipse the new source gains evil and power. Consequently, I observed last time, Good changed to counter Evil.” Proctor nodded self depreciatingly “I only observe when change happens. I have no wisdom as to how future changes happen.”

“Good seems to be panicking.” Cole told Proctor. “Getting ready for a big fight. A nasty one.”

“So I observed.” Proctor agreed. “Wars destroy civilisations, but I have observed they create them too. The first full cycle I observed was the previous eclipse and I watched the evil that followed. Witch-burnings and hangings and some brutal wars, but it was also a time of great art and invention. Francesca who has seen more eclipses, tells me the course was similar in those. I would hope this time there is no pain, but I doubt it. You are not tempted to interfere?” he asked darkly.

“I’ve been tempted” Cole confessed “But no, not acted-magically, just done what any smart lawyer could do. Enjoying myself screwing over a few idiot mortals who may not realise they are propagating the course of evil.” He took a deep breath. “Possibly I will have the chance to screw over a few sanctimonious Elders. As a lawyer.”

“It does not have to be me. It could be any smart lawyer.” Cole assured him “Mind you the race of Elders are not thrilled at a smartarse lawyer interfering with their-oh-so complacent ‘this is the way it will be’.” He stood up, stared at the fire then sat down again “It doesn’t have to be all lose and doom for...minions of Good. There is no justice in that. No justice in those who are loyal to Good having their lives broken and lost.”

“I observed” Proctor sneered. “You have my sympathy, but then considering the disturbances you cause to their...complacency, the Elders have my sympathy too.”

“Well, if the Guardian Belthezor does ever reveal himself, I hope those bastard Elders are embarrassed.” Cole grinned nastily.

Both Guardians sipped their port. After a few minutes quite comfortable silence Proctor finally spoke. “I observed in the previous eclipse much change in the realms of Good. Those souls that served honourably go to a reward or whatever follows an honourable calling. These Elders stuck in the calling of the past may not be the ones who know Belthezor in the future.” Proctor took another sip of his port.

Cole took a deep breath because he had not expected Proctor to be so open about a subject that was concerning him. “Do you ever have any doubts… concerns … questions about our calling?” Cole asked quickly. “I wonder about…my calling… justice. It was never needed before” he questioned. “Just Durand who has known right from wrong for seven hundred years.”

“Because justice is … only possible now after seven hundred years of instruction about right and wrong. Perhaps” Proctor suggested, not quite hiding the sarcasm in his voice. “According to Therold, an eclipse was the first magic recorded in the earthen realms. Brother Therold tells me the calling changes each cycle. Not only a new source and Elders but sometimes Guardians. At least, it is set in motion that they change. We often only recognise change in hindsight.” Proctor slowly sipped his port.

“I understand from Therold that the demon Elisheeva began her nefarious journey then” Proctor informed Cole “As the Brotherhood rose to power in the early days of the old source, I observed.”

Proctor smiled satanically and continued his musing. “Evard and Esther passed, I am told. Hilma and I, for our sins, were called.” Proctor continued talking almost to himself, as if finding his own understanding. “Something about the calling of the new epoch, in the way that evil presents itself. Prior to the Old source finding power in knowledge and invention, Good countered I observed with education. Knowledge is now widespread.”

“It is a powerful evil” Proctor commented. The dark Guardian continued. “I have heard that when Esther was called…that literacy, the ability to record knowledge was the weapon of Good. I observed the warrior Guardian Hilma seek the light, and protect against the darkness of vengeance. I observed enlightenment followed her. The Guardian Janko’s calling came after the enlightenment, a Seeker, a finder…of knowledge as much as anything else. The seeker followed the light and now justice follows them. I see evidence that …growth, wisdom occurs, in the changes. Maybe a little.”

Proctor continued talking, almost as if he had forgotten Cole’s presence. “And now Tempus has power based in time. Why the time lord who had been around for a millennium, only came to power now, I do not know. It was written though, Therold tells me. Just not understood.”

After some time of silence, Cole staring down to his almost empty glass finally spoke. “I have concerns about the role of Guardians” he confessed. “I hear voices on the spirit winds but whoever they are…whoever makes the calls” … are out of my reach.”

Proctor shrugged, for him a little awkwardly “The voices are not unknown” he admitted. “I have no wisdom on such things. But I have been told…I recall I was once told very precisely. It would be…dangerous to not have … concerns.”

Proctor laughed, his expression for a second without darkness. “I observed” he murmured then stared moodily into the fire before speaking again, the dryness in his voice almost cracking the air “If you are asking me what I know of those who call us who hold the balance of magic. I know what I need to know but I can tell you that I never doubted the integrity of the call I heard but its source confused me.”

Proctor nodded, not so much in sympathy as enjoying Cole’s confusion. “I can advise you it took… a very long time for me to understand, to be safe to trust without question that integrity. This for me, was the next journey and it is one I walked alone.” Proctor’s dark face was wholly demonic “Except this journey is not wholly without guidance. I found the wisdom I needed from those who had previously travelled the paths I travelled but I had to ask.”

Cole had the wisdom to understand the advice and stay silent. He stood up, wandered the room, stopping in front of the flashing screens, then returned to the fire while Proctor watched him.

“You wish to know what I know?” Proctor asked when Cole sat down again. “I will tell you this. They have granted me a vision that Great Magic is in balance but in this vision, I saw that which balances the changes here, is often beyond reach. I feel safe with the visons they have granted me.”

“That is something you answer in your own journey as I did, to my satisfaction.” Proctor replied, the dryness in his voice almost a rasp. “I found nothing beyond understanding, nothing malevolent, nothing unfamiliar which caused me consternation. I have observed some of the voices I hear in the spirit winds are new and some are fading.” His expression became quizzical. “So your answer to ‘Who are they’ will not be mine.”

“Francesca told me once that she spent her first fifty years as a whitelighter pondering and questioning her role and then she decided focusing on herself was...not productive. There were better uses of her time.” Cole told Proctor.

“Francesca has walked a long path to her wisdom” Proctor commented with a small smile playing around his mouth.

Cole who had reason to know of the reasons Proctor had chosen his path and the great secret of his unrequited love for their whitelighter nodded.

“I have no desire to question what is ahead” Proctor answered. “I have no desire to be anywhere other than where I am. Ask Therold, the future it is his calling.”

“Then ask your wife to ask him” suggested Proctor satanically. “As I observe, she does…see him.”

“Yes” Cole agreed nastily. “When she can … cadge a lift … from whitelighter types she takes him cuttings for his garden and helps him plan it.”

“I have observed. This does not relieve Francesca’s anxieties” Proctor’s dark face, slightly lit. “Ask Therold about the future. I cannot help you.”

“Therold detests being supervised like an irresponsible child which Francesca always does when we meet.” Cole muttered petulantly “He prefers me to stay away.”

Proctor glanced at the wall of flashing images. “Francesca is occupied” he informed Cole. “She is with Arturo, coincidently pondering magic and change. “Go” he ordered. “If you wanted an answer the opportunity arises to ask Therold … pertinent questions … unsupervised. Although I do thank my brother for the pleasure of his company.”

“You will get an answer” Proctor repeated. “Whether it is the one you want….” He smiled satanically.

As Cole stood up, Proctor raised his hand “You need to know,” he spoke carefully “that I observed your …connections close to agents of change. Not just in the realms of Good.” He smiled sardonically. “It seems that the Guardian Belthezor for his sins is at the centre of the new change.”

Cole stopped, swallowed hard “Elisheeva?” he finally asked his voice faltering ever so slightly.

“I have no knowledge of the future” Proctor answered not hiding a smirk. “Merely my observation of the past. She is nefarious.” He turned to gather the port glasses.

Cole recognising the discussion was over, wished Proctor a polite but well-meant farewell, leaving his brother Guardian to his lonely observations of the near realms and Cole suspected those a little further.

At a gathering of her coven, the witch Leslie Simpson sat at the edge of the circle, one of thirteen witches attending. This gathering took place in the spacious salon of her third cousin, Anna’s very large and rundown house. Her house had been the coven’s meeting place for more than a century. It was built by a successful miner ancestor of Leslie’s who had married a witch, and for the Simpson family it represented their heritage and connections to San Francisco, just as it had for their mother Jade. The house, one of the few brick buildings to survive the earthquake in 1906, was legendary in the area across the bay from the centre of San Francisco. Whether that survival was luck or magic had been the subject of much speculation in the Simpson family. If it was magic and personal gain, there had certainly been consequences because not one member of the family had ever been even remotely prosperous since.

Although the coven’s witch leader called this gathering as an extra meeting nevertheless the witches still performed their rituals, the part of her craft that Leslie enjoyed, finding beauty in the words and the ceremony, and belonging. When participating in these rites Leslie often found a sense of peace, worthiness, justification even in her choices to remain part of this coven.

All three Simpson witches felt a huge allegiance to their coven. Their mother had served it well for almost thirty years before her death, as had their aunt, grandmother, and great-grandmother before that. Most of the witches were distant cousins and no one who knew the members of the coven could deny their great loyalty to Good and their brave acceptance of their role. This loyalty was the reason, one of the reasons, that all three Simpson witches had in the face of their father’s wrath chosen to follow their magic calling. A decision they did not regret despite what it cost them even though all three witches understood answering the callings of their coven was not a recipe for dying of old age. All of them could cite a long list of ancestors who had survived to procreate more witches but had not enjoyed a long life.

Knowing more about higher magic, because of their connection to the Halliwell family, the three young witches understood that their coven’s calling was a compromise between the very real warnings that Good should not proactively attack evil yet not be, as Charlie described it, sitting ducks waiting for Evil to destroy them. They were the balance between open confrontation and justifiable protection for sister witches which meant they were often the first witches called to battle.

The calling did mean that their coven well-guarded by the Elders. The whitelighter Caleb was a highly-regarded guide who understood the dangers of magic becoming unbalanced, and the consequences of visits from the ogres who protected it. As a messenger from the Elders, Caleb was both dutiful and diligent in his actions and in consulting them. In fact, as Phoebe pointed out, the Simpson’s coven was the standard by which the Elders’ judged witches. Many of its members, like the three young witches, to varying degrees had the power to recognise Evil. Coven members were witches who could protect sisters and innocents from the sects that formed the greater part of demondom, the imps, the goblins, the sludges, spites, even many of ferocious vanquish fodder, razors and shakers and other creatures whose sole existence was to fight and be vanquished.

However, for most of these witches, confrontations with the demonic creatures that could assume mortal forms or the lost souls hiding their evil behind their humanity, or even the great upper-level demons, were rare and frequently fatal. Caleb always instructed that such creatures be given a wide berth, which is why Charlie had not acted when she discovered much of the university HR was evil. These witches knew to identify and report it to their whitelighter who in turn would consult Elders, who could call on the great powers of the earth realm, such as the Power of Three of the Charmed Ones.

After the formal part of the gathering ended, Leslie was not comfortable physically or emotionally. As one of the younger witches present, she sat on the floor, as did her two sisters, all of them wriggling and clutching a cup of tea awkwardly, as the ‘social’ part of the coven’s gathering proceeded. Leslie glanced at her sister witches, and except for her real sisters, all were showing various degrees of annoyance, fear, and rapt attention as the whitelighter Caleb stood in the centre of the rather wonky circle. He told the witches of a coming of great Evil, of the need to be prepared, which Leslie interpreted as the need to be prepared to die, and the great responsibility of witches everywhere to follow the wisdom of the Elders and powers of Good to defeat this terrible threat to Magic. The coven, bar the Simpson witches, took on a righteous expression as they unconditionally told Caleb that they all knew their duty and that Good could rely on them.

The problem for Leslie was that unlike the ten witches who were not her birth sisters, she had been present at the event that had sparked Caleb’s rousing call. In fairness, she could not accuse Caleb of lying or even twisting the words of the by-now-probably deceased grunt-demon she and her sisters and the Charmed Ones had questioned. However, her lawyer’s training and experience left her believing that Caleb’s interpretations, and therefore she assumed the Elders, interpretations of the grunt’s words did not match hers.

Leslie was still only twenty-eight and her coven was inclined to treat her as youthful and inexperienced, but in both the legal world and the magic world Leslie had experienced more magic than most of them ever would. Through her connection to the Charmed Ones and the seedy side of Cole’s law practice, she had seen Evil both magical and mortal, and by living with Paige’s family, Leslie had also, on a small scale, seen Greater Magic. Cole kept her apart from magic world in which he lived, but he never hid his connection from her either. Neither did Leo when the Great Guardian Durand had visited and disrupted the family home. Leslie had even shared meals with Guardians, and she had had the privilege of hearing the advice of Cole’s whitelighter Francesca.

Once on one of Francesca’s visits, as the whitelighter complacently shared a glass or more of Piper’s red wine, the good stuff, Leslie was present when Piper demanded to know if the Charmed Ones out growing directions from the Elders, was a part of the Great Plan.

Francesca had to her credit considered the question very carefully before answering that wisdom and understanding was certainly part of their expanding powers.

“Powers” Paige had snorted. “You consider knowing the Elders are a pack of...” She caught Francesca pursing her lips “…unwise idiots, a power.”

“Yes dear” Francesca answered. “You have all been granted a great power. It’s called a conscience.”

“You have been granted the ability to know right from wrong and to refuse to be directed into evil and unwise decisions, decisions you sometimes have to make very quickly in the heat of battle.” Francesca told them. “But” the whitelighter continued firmly “I understand, and you must understand, that armies, even armies of light cannot evaluate and contest every order from those who see a greater vision.”

Francesca’s expression became very school-marm but she continued “Not having your power of conscience, foot soldiers and even middle ranking soldiers have the luxury of following orders. Fortunately for most battles the enemy is clear and the action obvious, so there is no question of conscience. However, for the soldiers,” and Francesca nodded to include all the Charmed witches and to her surprise Leslie. “For those who not only fight the Great Battles but a silent enemy, a conscience…understanding of when to act, and as importantly when not to, is a great power. One you may have noticed, frightens Elders who demand obedience and following orders.”

“So” snipped Piper sarcastically. “In the great balance of magic, most people called to magic get the luxury of following orders, and some poor suckers, like us, have to…make decisions and live with them.”

Piper glared at her, angrily upset “My sister Prue had trouble with the not-acting part, the not roaring into battle full speed ahead part.”

Francesca slowly put her glass down. “And she paid the price” the whitelighter answered gently.

Francesca looked at Piper severely, clearly considering her answer before, still in a gentle voice she told the witches. “Your sister was taken by her own actions long before the Charmed Ones earned the Power of Conscience.” She smiled at Paige. “She was replaced by someone… more open to wisdom, understanding, to considering less obvious paths. You may call that a reckoning of the balance if you wish.”

“So, Prue had to go” breathed Piper bitterly. Time never quite healed some wounds.

“Your sister went because she followed an unwise path of destruction. One that could have affected the Balance. However, her destruction was only of herself, not innocents and she passed on with her…virtues and her magic soul intact. And she stayed connected to the realm long enough to understand this. You could consider what her pathway allowed her to retain and even rejoice in her virtues.”

Leslie sitting uncomfortably on the floor in her third cousin’s house and listening to the whitelighter Caleb talk of the dangers coming to magic, was wise enough to realise that night she was granted a small access to the Power of Conscience. She did not wholly appreciate the gift, as she noted the rapt faces of her coven-sisters. Fern and Charlie both glanced toward their big sister and raised their eyes as Caleb spoke and spoke.

Later that night, the three Simpson witches were again sitting around drinking tea, or in Charlie’s case hugging a mug containing chocolate, this times in ‘next door’s’ less than stylish parlour and considering the happenings of the coven. They also shared three large cream cakes that Leslie had insisted on buying on the way home because all of them needed a treat after keeping quiet at the meeting.

The sisters agreed when Fern commented sagely, the whitelighter Caleb had been in a state of complete panic, and frighteningly had infected their coven sisters with his fear and panic. Worse, not even cream cakes could reassure the three witches that this panic would dissipate. Caleb’s type of panic was not of the hysterical manic rushing around without planning type of panic. It was more the calm voice, extra careful slow speaking, in control, transmitting orders precisely and carefully, type of panic. The three Simpson witches recognised over the night’s meeting Caleb’s panic had infected their sister witches and that panic in turn re-infected Caleb. His calm had increased triple fold, reflected by his voice becoming slower and higher. He repeated the Elders’ orders three or more times to make sure all the witches understood and focused his energy on the Simpson girls after each order.

Caleb ever so carefully with his voice becoming higher and higher, told the assembled witches that demons were on the attack, taking over mortal institutions and Good did not yet know the extent of that infiltration. He explained that the infiltrators were once lost souls so when the witches destroyed these demons, they could expect more efforts by demons to recruit new grunts. No one, magic or mortal was now safe in these uncertain times of evil. Mortals, innocents and god forbid even witches could become infected by doubt and worry and thus easily recruited by evil.

“Bet the Elders are panicking like Caleb” Fern observed wiping cream from her mouth “Bet they think Evil is changing the rules and they don’t know how to lead a battle against them.”

“Did you think” Charlie asked nervously “Caleb was relieved about the possibility of open confrontation? Like he already had the speech about going to war and was finally getting a chance to use it again?”

Charlie had found out the hard way, that reasonable voices were shut down in times of panic. At the gathering, she had tried to point out that it was only one attack in San Francisco, which turned into a demon massacre, she admitted but not a witch one. Caleb had then become a little vague but shut Charlie down by insisting she did not have the information the Elders did. He did confirm that at the request of Elders several surreptitious investigations by other witches had produced some frightening results. In England, at one of the world’s most famous universities, a coven with similar powers to the Simpson’s coven had discovered Evil had infiltrated many administrators and managers. Furthermore, some German witches had found the same thing in one of their major universities. Caleb also rather superciliously told the coven that the widespread reporting of student riots in an Indian university leading to several deaths, was not student unrest as reported in the international press but a repeat of the San Francisco incident, and there were concerns of similar student unrest in several French education institutions. Attacking universities, Caleb told them was an attack on witches, many highly educated women. Caleb then laboured his theme by pointing out how Charlie and her sisters had benefited from a university education.

As a dramatic conclusion, Caleb had then revealed to the coven, as the Simpson girls already knew, there was new demon called Briareos and it had no limitations on how it acted or exposed magic. He admitted that so far, the very strangeness and inexplicability of Evil openly at war, had reduced the news coverage but this would not last Caleb assured them in a very carefully controlled but high voice.

Caleb did not quite go as far as a call to arms, but he left the witches of the coven with no doubts where he thought their duty lay. He insisted that there was an evil enemy that Good must overcome and, frightening to young women who had spent their youth coming to terms with the mortality of their calling, they must be prepared to sacrifice.

For a few minutes all three witches sat silently in the living room, contemplating the night’s events.

“Phoebe has been saying universities are taken over by Evil for ages.” Fern reminded her sisters. “Do you think it was a premonition?”

“She hasn’t been talking about all-out war” Leslie replied. “All that stuff about sacrifice” Leslie told her sisters “Sounds like the stuff whitelighters, Caleb, was saying before Burvjara”.

“Some of those others at the coven went too” Charlie replied, “and they did not seem too suspicious of being manipulated into war tonight.”

“If they’re going to have to fight probably for the best” Leslie suggested. “It’s a bloody awful feeling to feel manipulated into fighting but still feel you have to. Look how confused Matilda was.”

The Simpson witches were so concerned about Caleb’s call that on the way home, Leslie who was driving, visited a witch she knew well from the Burvjarian wars. Matilda was a rather annoying gung-ho witch from a coven that frequently worked with the Simpson’s coven. Having survived the journey to Burvjaria along with Leslie, Matilda always talked of the war as a great victory even though the whole point of it had been the witches did not fight and thus saved the day. However, Matilda had also lived through the horrors of the mistakes of the Elders in the battle and no matter how much she applauded the victory, her eyes could never quite stop clouding over when she brought up the subject of war and witches’ sacrifice. Which she frequently did.

Leslie point-blank asked Matilda if their whitelighter had spoken to her coven, another fighting one which was very active in magic battles, and Matilda confirmed they had. She told the young witches her whitelighter had explained that the Elders were very worried about this new demon that does not care about exposing magic to the world and seems hellbent on controlling education and thinking.

“Elders are downright panicking if you ask me” Matilda commented in her blunt way.

However, Matilda also insisted that the role of witches was to fight for Good, to follow their calling no matter the cost, then her eyes clouded over and she did whisper “But be prepared for the cost. Perhaps a little sceptical of call to arms,” she advised.

Which is why the witches were sitting around contemplating the events of the night and eating cream cakes.

“We’re going to fight, aren’t we?” Charlie finally asked her sisters. “No matter how panicking Caleb and the Elders are.”

“We always do” Fern answered, with a touch of defensiveness. Leslie knew that Fern was thinking of the consequences of fighting after she disobeyed her father to do it.

“I worry about fights with near mortals and mortals gone evil” Charlie confessed slowly “I still get scared it was me that killed those two mortals the other day.”

“Couldn’t have” Leslie the lawyer reassured her sister “From what Cole said from the video, they were hit in the back. Had to be demons.”

Both Fern and Leslie understood where her concerns were coming from. At sixteen, Charlie easily the most volatile and proactive member of the family fought with their coven, mostly in a teenage fit of rebellion at Paige, who strongly suggested that she should not. Charlie went on a couple of demon hunting expeditions with coven members and unfortunately a little like Prue Halliwell, had been easily provoked into using her flaming power, without considering what she was killing.

Fortunately, the creature was a middle-level demon and her powers, frighteningly strong destroyed it. However, the creature looked mortal and in the second or the eternity that it took for the fire to reach it and blast it into a pile of goo, Charlie thought she had murdered a living mortal and her soul crumpled.

“I feel like a murderer” Charlie whispered. “Those two mortals died because of the fight.”

“You’re not” Leslie the lawyer told her shortly. “Either morally or legally. At the worst they could try and get you on involuntary manslaughter. Fern you are not hearing this.” Leslie warned.

“I resent that warning” Ferna smirked “I can lie to the FBI as well as either of you.”

“They would have to prove you committed a felony. They would have to prove intent. And you did not have intent, even as witches, you were just checking and something attacked you.” Leslie told her sister firmly. “Those lost souls were gone anyway. Cole says” she smiled as Charlie rolled her eyes “Demons took advantage of the situation to call in some Faustian deals. And” she added, stressing the point “You weren’t there.”

After a few more minutes Fern spoke again “You know what I found funny. Caleb pointing out how much we benefited from a university education. You’ve got Phoebe muttering and cursing about Evil trying to create a bunch of trained automats who just do what they’re told. Then you have Caleb and I guess the Elders, because he only ever says what they tell him, wanting to damn your education. Just shut up and do what you’re told, think what the Elders tell you to think. Only be prepared to fight so others can have a college education and learn to think.”

“It wasn’t like Elders went out of their way to help us with a university education” Charlie told her sisters bitterly.

Charlie considered the problem. “Lucky we got the education or we’d be panicking too.” She half smiled “Maybe its being around the Charmed Ones. They don’t panic just because some great big demon wants to control the world. Not like piddly little bureaucrat Elders, who want to rain chaos because their nice orderly plans are … stuffed.”

“You think this is something like Elders going evil, and wanting war and stirring things up, like you said happened in Burvjara.” Fern asked.

“No” Leslie decided finally. “It’s not like then. I think…then it was the Elders, Elders, Elders. its … this time I think its lower-middle managers, panicking when this damn big bad changes the way of doing business. And they feel out of control, and they are kind of infecting underlings. Which makes them feel in control.”

“Caleb sure was in a panic” Charlie mused. “All self-righteous and … scared and …excited.” She smiled awkwardly “I remember mom did not have much time for him. I was all… you know once… getting a bit excited about her going to fight. Not all that long before she died and she…sort of …said sometimes you need to be a bit careful letting Caleb … get you excited about …battles and fights. I mean she told me he didn’t do the fighting or the dying, its witches doing the dying. When I think about it, she was warning me.”

“I bet she said it a bit more blunt than that” Leslie smiled, remembering that Jade had been a witch and a woman who was not afraid to say what she thought.

“Yeah” Charlie conceded.” It was a lot more blunt than that. Which is why I remember her saying it.”