Hunter's Legacy

Piper

Dealing with the Witches was always a shit show.

She ran her hands over her head, and her fingers through the thick, blonde locks of her ponytail. Piper had work that she needed to do, plus waiting for the Witches was excruciating.

Piper was familiar with the attitudes of the Witches--they felt as though they were better than everyone else; better than humans because they possessed magic, and better than other monsters, because of that same magic.

She also hated dealing with them because, even though she had long since shed her magic, she was frowned upon by the Witch community for abandoning her Coven.

Not that Piper, herself, cared at all about what the Witches thought; in her own opinion, some Witches were worse monsters than all the demons, werewolves, and vampires combined.

She went and pulled out the blueprints of the bunker. The last time she’d had to deal with The Witches, was shortly after Camille came to live in The Bunker--so it had been a couple of years; she figured that it was safe for Camille, especially since she had a demon--who had already attacked her once--chasing her.

There was a soft knock on her door, before it opened, and Eddie poked his head in.

“They’re here,” he said. Piper nodded, and closed the filing cabinet, just in time for the door to open wide, allowing five, tall and willowy women to stride in. four out of the five women had blond hair that ranged, in color, from platinum to wheat, and the fifth had vibrant red hair that fell to her waist in loose waves; Piper assumed that she was the Coven’s leader, just from the amount of magical power that Piper could feel emanating off of her.

The woman with the red hair sat, gracefully, in the wooden chair that was on the opposite side of Piper’s desk.

“You are Piper?” she asked; her tone held a note of superiority.

“Yes, Piper Rodgers,” Piper responded, holding her hand out to shake the red head’s. The red-haired woman looked down at Piper’s outstretched hand and Piper could almost see the sneer playing on the other woman’s scarlet-colored lips. Soon enough though, the woman reached out and grasped Piper’s hand, “And you are…”

“Corianne,” the woman said, once the two dropped hands.

“Where is Kris?” Piper asked. The last time she had to ward the Bunker, the leader of the Coven had been a different woman.

“Sadly enough, her time had come,” Corianne responded, although Piper noted that she didn’t seem sorry that their leader had passed.

“I’m sorry to hear that, when did it happen?” Piper asked. Even though she didn’t keep up-to-date with the going-ons in the Witch community, Piper knew that the passing of a Coven’s leader was widely grieved.

“Some time ago,” Corianne said, vaguely. That could mean anywhere from the last few months to the last hundred years.

“That’s a shame; she was such a nice woman,” Piper said, as she unrolled the Bunker’s blueprints, over her desktop.

Corianne didn’t reply, she just scooted forward, to get a better look at the prints.

“We, mainly, need to reinstate the warding,” Piper explained, moving her fingers across the blue prints and showing where extra warding needed to be set.

“If you could show my companions where to start…I would request a tour of the facility,” Corianne said. A sense of foreboding spread through Piper at the woman’s request. It was a bit odd, because the previous leader hadn’t needed a tour of the bunker. Though, she supposed that every leader was different; Kris had just needed access to the center of the bunker, where she could pull the spell from all four corners.

“Right this way,” Piper said, motioning to the door. She walked around, and to the front of the group, opening the door, “Eddie, would you please take these ladies to the North, South, East and West areas of the Bunker?”

“Sure thing,” Eddie said, and then he motioned for them to break away from the group. The four of them looked to Corianne, who nodded, as though she was giving them permission, and then they followed Eddie.

Piper took Corianne through the Bunker, pointing out rooms and other things.

It was when they were walking back to the entrance, when Serena bumped into them.

“I am so sorry,” Serena said, stooping down to pick up the papers that had fallen out of her arms and now littered the ground, “I should have been watching where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” Piper said, collecting the last few papers and handing them over to her flustered intern, “Serena, this is Corianne, she is the new leader of The Midnight Eye Coven.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Corianne said.

“You as well,” Serena said to Corianne, still sounding flustered. Then, turning to Piper, she said, “Your telephone kept ringing in your office. I didn’t answer it, but I figured that I’d let you know.”

“Thank you,” Piper looked over at Corianne, who appeared to be examining the hallway, “I’ll get you settled, and then, if you don’t mind, I have to return that call.”

“Of course,” Corianne nodded; Serena scurried away, while the other two continued on their own.

“Kris said that this was the perfect binding point,” Piper said, as the two walked into the Common area. Corianne smiled.

“This will do,” she said, smiling widely, and nodding as her eyes seemed to scan the area around her.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then. Please don’t hesitate to call, if you need anything,” Piper said.

“I’ll be sure to,” Corianne responded, as she closed her eyes and started humming. Piper took that as her cue to leave the Witch to do her business; she turned and walked back to her office.

Piper sat in her chair and stared at her telephone. Just as she was about to pick up the receiver, it rang again. She picked it up and held it to her ear.

“Hey Piper, how’s it going?” Camille’s voice filtered through the speaker.

“What do you need?” Piper asked, her tone short. She didn’t mean to snap; she knew that Camille wouldn’t have called unless they actually needed help. Camille went on to explain about the lead that they had come upon, and requested that Piper look through Alexander’s room to see if there was a necklace.

Though she didn’t like the idea of invading his privacy, Piper knew that it could lead to answering their questions, if the necklace was there. Piper agreed, and they hung up. She let out a sigh as she got up and walked back to the hallway.

Shade entered Alexander’s room, and wasn’t surprised to find that it was mostly bare; he had been with them for quite a few months, but it wasn’t like they had gone back and boxed up his house after the demons had invaded. There wasn’t much to search through, but, when she checked his dresser, she found it wrapped up in a college sweatshirt. Piper took a picture of it and sent it to Camille.

She was walking back to her office, when she glanced to the left--an entrance to the East side of the building--and noticed Eddie sprawled on the floor.

“Eddie,” she said, hurrying over to him. Kneeling down beside him, she put her index and middle fingers to his neck, and she felt his pulse; it was thready, but it was there, all the same.

Piper was checking for wounds when she felt a presence behind her; before she could turn, she felt a pain to the back of her head. That was the last thing that she remembered, before her world went black.

The next time she opened her eyes, Piper found herself tied to a chair. She was sitting in a spotlight of sorts; there was a lamp overhead, casting a bright light around her. She pulled at the ropes, and found that they were actually tight; tight enough that they were biting into the skin of her biceps. Behind her, her wrists were bound with another rope. Twisting her wrists as much as she could, Piper felt for the knot; even though she couldn’t really see it, she figured that it was a standard slipknot. She tried finding the give, the spot where she could get it undone. Once she found it, Piper tried slipping her fingers beneath the rope, trying to untangle it, and get herself out.

“Good, you’re awake,” a cheerful voice spoke from the darkness. Piper stared at the place where the voice was speaking from, trying to make out who it could be, “I thought, for a minute there, that I killed you. So glad that I hadn’t.”

The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t pin where she’d heard it before. Finally, the owner of the voice stepped into the light: Serena. Out of her usual t-shirt and jeans, she was swathed in black; down to the black leather boots on her feet.

“Why?” Piper asked.

“Why what?” Serena strutted forward, coming into the circle and squatting down in front of Piper.

“Why make sure I’m alive? Why not just kill me and get it over with?” Piper asked, still fumbling with the knot behind her.

“Because it’s just more fun, this way,” Serena responded. Piper watched as her eyes flashed black, before morphing back to the brown that they were.

“You’re a demon,” Piper stated.

“You’re a demon,” Serena mimicked, in a high-pitched, terrified-sounding, tone.

“But, how?” Piper asked. She was trying to keep Serena--or the demon who was using Serena as a meat suit--talking and somewhat distracted, “We have secure measures taken for this reason.”

“It was simple, really,” Serena said, every word coming out in a hiss, “You’re little Serena is still in here. I shrunk back when she walked in; I had to lay low for a while. I needed her to be able to gain your trust--”

“--So you could get inside,” Piper finished. She could feel the place where the rope was knotted together; she almost had it, if she could keep Serena talking, she might be able to get out of there before anything went down.

“That’s right,” Serena said, condescendingly. She stepped closer to Piper, put her thumb on the right side of her face, put her index finger on the other side, and squeezed her cheeks together, “You are so brilliant.” Piper pulled out of Serena’s grasp, just as the walls around her shake.

“What’s happening?” Piper asked, looking around. Even though she couldn’t see anything past the circle of light that she sat in, there was no mistaking the sound of crumbling concrete hitting the concrete below.

Serena looked up and smiled, maliciously.

“It’s done,” she said, as the sound of a distant explosion sounded; before Piper could question any more, the ceiling above them came in, crumbling down Piper’s chair was tipped over, in the ruckus.

It took a minute for the smoke to clear--as they say--when the dust finally settled, Piper coughed, and then looked around as best as she could. She finally managed to untie her hands, and she stood, looking at the area around her.

There was a large hole above her, letting a bit light stream in, and showing her the place she had been stuck in; it resembled a store room. Dusty tomes and boxes were sitting upon metal shelves that had been stuck against the cement walls. Looking up through the hole, all Piper could see was darkness; was she still in the bunker, or was she somewhere else altogether? Remembering Serena, Piper whipped around, crouching into her fighting stance, but she saw neither hide nor hair of the other woman.

Serenawas gone.

Piper was left alone.

Her only question?

How was she to get out of there?

Alexander

Alexander sat in the hotel room, bored out of his mind. He was able to connect to the wireless internet, and look at a few things online, but nothing had really jumped out at him.

He really had no idea where to start; all this hunting monsters business was still fairly new to him. He was still coming to terms with the fact that demons were real. Despite having come into contact with them, twice, he was still waiting to see if this was just some screwed-up dream; that he had been studying too hard and his subconscious conjured this scenario up.

Alexander had nearly jumped out of his skin, when the door opened; in walked Camille and Natasha.

“So, what’s going on? What’s the case here?” he asked.

“It’s not here,” Camille said, and Alexander watched as she grabbed clothes out of her duffel and then went to the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” Alexander asked, watching as Natasha searched for clothes, as well.

“We’re leaving town,” she stated, just as Camille came out, and stowed her wrinkled pantsuit in her bag.

“Why? I thought there was something here,” he said.

“So did we, we were wrong,” Camille snipped, zipping her duffel shut.

“Well, where are we going?” he asked.

“To Tennessee,” Natasha answered.

“What’s in Tennessee?” Alexander questioned.

“A piece of the puzzle,” Camille responded.

Camille

Seven hours later, the three of us pulled into a small podunk town in Tennessee. I pulled up to the front office of a motel that bore the name The Golden Star.

“Not very original, are they?” I said, fiddling with the radio dials. A minute later, Natasha got back into the car.

“I managed to get a room on the ground floor; room one-eighteen,” she said. I nodded, and proceeded to drive around the building, and then pulled to a parking spot in front of room one-eighteen.

Like last time, the room was checked by Natasha, before they got out. I was able to lug the bags into the room, before I let out a groan and fell onto one of the queen-sized beds.

“I thought you said that sleep makes you weak,” Alexander commented from the chair by the window.

I hugged the pillow to me, bunching it up under my neck, squinted one eye open and glared at him, as menacingly as I could.

“It does, but I need a couple of hours before I drive again, plus, I'm still healing."”

“I can keep watch,” Natasha said, “It’s no problem.”

“Alright then,” I said, looking at the clock on the bedside table, “Just wake me up in a few hours.” Natasha nodded, as I let out a yawn, and then I closed my eyes, allowing sleep to come over me.

Alexander

Not the least bit tired, Alexander sat at the table, by Natasha; as she took care of weapons, Alexander had gotten his laptop set up and had connected to the internet.

“What are we doing here?” he finally asked, after several long moments of the sounds of the Russian vampire sharpening a blade against a wet stone.

Natasha said not a word, but she went over to the nightstand and retrieved Camille’s cell phone. Flipping it open, she seemed to scroll through it, before she walked back over to the table and tossed the cell phone to him.

“Do you recognize that?” she asked. Alexander looked down at the phone and noticed the picture; it was a necklace that he’d had since he was a baby. He was going to give it to Diana, before everything happened.

“What does that old necklace have to do with anything?” Alexander asked, closing Camille’s cell phone and sliding it over the table, back to Natasha.

“We believe that this was your mother’s necklace,” Natasha said.

“This isn’t my mother’s,” Alexander said, shaking his head.

“Your birth mother,” Natasha clarified.

Alexander’s chest felt heavy; he had known that he was adopted for about five years; he’d started asking questions when he was a teenager. He had been curious, and had never harbored any animosity towards the woman who had given him up.

“That’s why we’re here?” he asked. Natasha nodded, running the blade against the stone, again.

“From what you described to me, the way you took out those demons was…otherworldly,” Natasha said.

“I don’t know what you expect to find out,” Alexander said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re just trying to put some pieces together,” Natasha replied. They lapsed into silence. Alexander’s eyes wandered over to Camille, who slept soundly on the queen-sized bed with yellow stars splashed across it. To be honest, he’d been curious about her, ever since she and Natasha busted into his parents’ house and intervened with the demons.

“What’s the story there?” Alexander asked, nodding over to Camille’s sleeping form. He thought he saw a slight smirk play on Natasha’s lips, but it was gone in the next second.

“It’s not my place,” Natasha said, “All I can say is, she’s got a lot going on.”

“But she always has a problem with me,” Alexander said, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“It’s not you, like I said, she has a lot going on and she doesn’t have a lot of experience dealing with people for long periods of time.”

“But, with what you guys do, isn’t dealing with people a big part of it?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” Natasha replied, placing the newly sharpened blade on the table and reaching for another one, “We talk to people, get a feel for what they’re dealing with, and assess from there.”

“I want to come,” Alexander said, suddenly. When Natasha turned her raised eyebrows to him, he reiterated, “When you go talk to her, I want to come.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea…” Natasha trailed off, and Alexander could hear the unsure tone in her voice. The two lapsed into another silence.

It came on all of a sudden; his eyes felt heavy, as did his muscles. A yawn escaped him.

“You should sleep,” Natasha stated. Not having it in him to argue, Alexander simply nodded and went to the other bed.

Falling onto it, he was asleep in three seconds flat.

He woke up a few hours later; surprisingly, he felt as though he’d gotten a fully recommended eight hours, as opposed to the two or three that he actually had gotten. Alexander noticed that Natasha still sat in the same place, but she had a paperback book out, and was reading it, instead of sharpening weapons.

“Going on a coffee run, is there anything else that I can bring back?” He asked, as he pulled his hooded jacket on and zipped it up. Alexander pulled the hood over his head, put a room key in his pocket, and walked out of the room when Natasha shook her head.

For a moment, his eyes landed on Camille’s car; for a moment, he entertained the idea of taking it--just to make the coffee run. Not only would that be totally inconsiderate of him, Alexander knew that he’d be dead if he even looked at her keys.

So, Alexander ended up walking a block down to a small coffee shop. He opened up the glass-paned door and noticed that the place was painted in tans and browns--he figured?/"b goods reached him.

A glass display of breakfast-looking treats drew him in. There were doughnuts and other pastries, plus things like breakfast sandwiches and breakfast burritos, and snack wraps.

Alexander was surprised to find that he was next in line.

“Can I get three black coffees, please?” he asked the barista. She nodded, with a bright smile on her face.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Can I also get a sausage and cheese breakfast sandwich?”

“Sure thing, that will be ten-ninety-six,” she responded. Alexander nodded, pulling out one of the fake credit cards and handed it over. He waited, hoping beyond hope that it went through alright. She smiled and handed over both the card and the receipt; it had the number seventeen in bold letters, at the top.

“If you don’t mind waiting, we’ll call you when your order’s ready,” the barista said. Alexander nodded, before he went to go and sit in a chair and wait.

It didn’t seem to take long, by the time he knew it, his number was being called. He took his order, and stopped by a small counter that was stationed by the door.

He emptied a few packets of sugar and a couple small packets of half-and-half into one of the cups, stirred it up, and then put a “C” on the cup with the black marker that sat on the counter. Replacing the cup back into the drink container, he picked it and the bag of food back up, and walked back down the block, back to the motel.

Camille

I woke up to the smell of coffee; I squinted open one eye, just as Alexander came in with a cardboard tray of to-go cups. I got up and meandered over to the table, my muscles feeling tight as I moved.

“Good morning, Camille,” Alexander said, brightly. I held up my index finger, before I reached out, grabbing the red to-go cup with a C written in black marker on the side. The creamy and bitter taste of coffee enveloped my tastebuds, and I sat down, “I got you this, too.” Alexander dipped his hand into a slightly crumpled paper bag and pulled out something.

The smell of toasted bread, the slightly spicy scent of sausage, and the savory scent of melted cheese accosted my senses. I tore off the paper wrapping and pulled out a beautiful sausage and melted cheese sandwich.

I heard Natasha snicker.

“What is so funny?” I asked, snippily.

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied, grabbing one of the last two coffees in the carrier, “You didn’t bring back sugar or creamer for me as well?” Natasha said. She didn’t sound offended, she sounded more…bemused.

“I forgot,” Alexander blushed.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Natasha shrugged and then turned to me, “What’s the plan for today?”

“We’re going to Margot, to see if she can tell us anything,” I said, munching on the breakfast sandwich.

“Do we have her address?” Natasha asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Not right off-hand, but I bet someone in town could enlighten us to her whereabouts,” I said.

Alexander cleared his throat.

"Yes?" I asked, looking at him, expectantly.

"He wants to come," Natasha said, When Alexander failed to answer.

"That's easy; no," I said, taking the last bite of my breakfast sandwich.

"Why not?" he asked, and I was genuinely surprised that it didn't come out in a whiny fashion.

"Because you're not ready for this; this is something that requires you to keep your emotions in check," I explained.

"But I can, will you just give me a chance, please?" There was no begging, no whining, no nothing of the sort. I looked at Natasha, who shook her head and shrugged.

"I guess we can give it a shot," I sighed, "But one screw-up, just one, and you will be back at this motel faster than you can blink."

"I understand," he said, and he sounded excited.

After dressing--both Natasha and I foregoing our Fed clothes--we played sight-seer, where we walked around town, and talked to the locals. By the time mid-afternoon rolled around, we were tired and no closer to finding Margot Porter than when we started.

“Thank you,” I said, as the waitress slid the roast beef sandwich in front of me. We sat in the local diner that was situated on Main Street; I ate and people-watched, while Natasha scoured the local paper, and Alexander seemed rather put-out.

“So, what do we do now?” Alexander asked, stirring his food around his plate.

“We haven’t asked everyone here,” I said. “Excuse me,” I said, as the waitress returned to the table with our check, “We’re looking for our distant cousin, we heard that she lives around here, Margot Porter?”

“Yeah, Margot does live around here…actually, you might be able to catch her up at the soccer field,” she replied.

“Where would that be?” I asked, “We’re not from around here and we’re only in town for the day.”

“Go straight up this road, here,” she said, pointing to the street outside the diner, “It’ll take you up to the high school, and then you turn right, go another mile, and there should be the junior soccer league practicing.”

“Thank you,” Alexander said. That was the wonder of a small town; the locals often knew what each other were up to, and they seemed to believe the stories that they were fed by outsiders--which, in itself, could be a good or a bad thing.

“Sure thing. Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked, brightly.

“That’s it, we appreciate the directions,” Natasha said, following the waitress to the cash register.

“What’s up with you?” I asked Alexander, as I put the remains of my sandwich in a to-go box, “You look down.”

“I’m fine,” Alexander sighed, pushing his plate of uneaten food to the side, and getting up.

“Liar,” I said. Alexander looked up at me with a sharp and narrow gaze.

“Why do you care?” he snapped.

In all honesty, I was taken aback a little bit. For the past few months, I have snapped at him more times than I could count, so I wasn’t saying that I didn’t deserve it on my end, but I knew there was some misplaced anger, there.

I could feel the multitude of eyes on us, and I reached forward, putting my hands on his shoulders, and steering him out of the diner, and to the car. I opened the door, and pushed him into the back seat, shut the door, and then climbed into the driver’s side.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, as I pressed the lock button, locking all the doors simultaneously, and facing him.

“Are you even thinking about how this might affect me?” he said, his voice nearly shaking.

“How what might…oh…you know,” I said. It took me a second to realize that he knew what we were doing here, who we were looking for, and who she actually was, “How long have you known?”

“Known about what?” Alexander scoffed, scowling out the window, “That I was adopted, or the fact that you’re here to see my birth mother about what I am?” I closed my eyes and pressed the tips of my thumb and index fingers against my eyelids and breathed out.

“We’re just trying to put some pieces together,” I said, “From what we’ve been hearing, you’re pretty powerful.”

“Sure, but how?” Alexander asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I replied, "Plus, I said it wasn't a good idea that you come. Are you regretting it, now?" Alexander opened his mouth and was about to say something, but he was cut off by a tapping on the passenger window. I looked up to see Natasha tapping her fingers against the glass. I pressed the ‘unlock’ button and Natasha opened the door.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sliding into the passenger side and depositing my forgotten to-go box on the seat between us.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” I said, looking at Alexander, who just nodded, with pursed lips.

The ride to the field was a short and quiet one; we ended up parking across the street from it, and I could hear the echoed shouts of a man barking out orders to a team of young girls, as they ran around the field.

“You know, we look like creepers,” Alexander said, staring out of the opposite window.

“We do not,” Natasha argued, “For all they know, I could be here to pick up my little brother.” I snickered, “What’s so funny?”

“Your little brother is made of dust,” I said. Natasha was about to argue back, when Alexander pushed the back door open, and got out of the car. We watched as he stood on the other side of the gate for a second, before approaching a couple of women who sat in canvas lounge chairs, under a large umbrella.

He squatted between the chairs, and Natasha and I watched as he engaged with the women, who seemed more than happy to speak with him.

“He’s good,” Natasha said; I couldn’t help but agree, as I watched the bored housewives shamelessly flirt with him.

“That he is,” I mumbled.

“Is that jealousy?” Natasha quipped.

“Jealousy?” I asked, feeling my eyebrows shoot up the length of my forehead, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because you have all of the feelings,” Natasha replied.

“If by ‘feelings’ you mean annoyance, irritation, then yes, I have all of the feelings,” I shrugged, hoping that she would drop it.

No such luck.

“Have you even liked anybody before?” Natasha asked.

“What does that have to do with Alexander?”

“The fact that you seem to like him and that he seems to like you as well,” Natasha responded.

“What would you know about it?” I quipped, “In your time, weren’t men measuring their daughter’s worth by how many goats one could buy if said daughter married into the right family?”

“I resent that!” Natasha said, indignantly.

“C’mon, how many goats?” I asked.

“Four goats and two pigs,” Natasha admitted. quietly.

It was ironic; to most people on the outside, we looked like two normal girls who were having a conversation about a boy. It was probably the closest to a 'normal' conversation either of us would have.

“Did you say two pigs? I asked, sarcastically, “Not just one, but two? You were quite the prize, weren’t you?”

Before Natasha could even formulate a comeback, the back door opened, and Alexander slid into the back seat.

“What’d you get?” I asked.

“I found out that Margot’s daughter is sick today, so she stayed at home,” he said.

“Did you get an address?” I asked.

“2346 Peachtree Lane,” he replied. I opened my glove compartment and pulled out a small pocket-sized map of the town, that Natasha managed to snag from the front office at the motel. I looked for Peachtree Lane, in accordance with where we were; thankfully, we were only about four blocks away from the residence.

Putting the car in drive, I pulled away from the curb and I started up the block, hoping that we could finally get the answers that we seek.