Suite 518/520, Monday night
Jan. 1st, 2007 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
demonbelthazorThe Source stood in the doorway to the bedroom, watching Phoebe sleep. He idly bounced a ball of fire in his hand. He should kill her and be done with it. The Charmed Ones were his greatest enemy. They could possess the power to vanquish him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.
It was Belthazor's fault. He knew it would be a risk, dealing with a human soul. But the opportunity had been there, and at the Seer's urging he had taken it. There were rituals in the Grimoire that would help him, fully subjugate the soul and secure his power, but they needed time to prepare for.
In the meantime, the witch would live. But there were ways to bring even such a force of good under his sway.
He moved to the kitchen, waving his hand to conjure up several vials of liquid and herbs, along with a small cauldron. Holding out his arm, he used the athame to cut into his own flesh and let the blood drip into the cauldron. He poured a few more ingredients into the cauldron and mixed it with the tip of the dagger. Smoke rose, and he eyed the smoke detector in the room warily. But it didn't go off.
He poured the mixture into a glass. It would taste awful, but he could convince Phoebe to drink it. Cold medicine tasted just as bad, after all, and she was still recovering from her illness. He could sense the pull of evil on her, and the tonic would increase that until she was firmly in his power.
The doctor had been dealt with, and the angel would be too distracted by grief to sense his presence. The Source had plans to deal with Angel eventually. Anders was an obedient pet and a pleasing diversion. Things were going well.
He could feel Belthazor struggling within him, finally realizing what had been happening. He was horrified by what had been done to Dr. Wilson and by his betrayals of Phoebe and treatment of Anders. But he wasn't strong enough to stop him. The Source would keep him under control and play his role here at the school until he was ready to reclaim the Underworld and reestablish his rule there. Then nothing could stop him.
He returned to the bedroom, settling on the bed next to Phoebe. She stirred and sleepily looked up at him. "Drink this, sweetheart," he said softly, handing her the glass. "It will make you feel better, I promise."
It was Belthazor's fault. He knew it would be a risk, dealing with a human soul. But the opportunity had been there, and at the Seer's urging he had taken it. There were rituals in the Grimoire that would help him, fully subjugate the soul and secure his power, but they needed time to prepare for.
In the meantime, the witch would live. But there were ways to bring even such a force of good under his sway.
He moved to the kitchen, waving his hand to conjure up several vials of liquid and herbs, along with a small cauldron. Holding out his arm, he used the athame to cut into his own flesh and let the blood drip into the cauldron. He poured a few more ingredients into the cauldron and mixed it with the tip of the dagger. Smoke rose, and he eyed the smoke detector in the room warily. But it didn't go off.
He poured the mixture into a glass. It would taste awful, but he could convince Phoebe to drink it. Cold medicine tasted just as bad, after all, and she was still recovering from her illness. He could sense the pull of evil on her, and the tonic would increase that until she was firmly in his power.
The doctor had been dealt with, and the angel would be too distracted by grief to sense his presence. The Source had plans to deal with Angel eventually. Anders was an obedient pet and a pleasing diversion. Things were going well.
He could feel Belthazor struggling within him, finally realizing what had been happening. He was horrified by what had been done to Dr. Wilson and by his betrayals of Phoebe and treatment of Anders. But he wasn't strong enough to stop him. The Source would keep him under control and play his role here at the school until he was ready to reclaim the Underworld and reestablish his rule there. Then nothing could stop him.
He returned to the bedroom, settling on the bed next to Phoebe. She stirred and sleepily looked up at him. "Drink this, sweetheart," he said softly, handing her the glass. "It will make you feel better, I promise."
