"Kevin." The whispered voice was familiar. "Wake up, Kevin." He stirred a little and opened his eyes; when he didn't see what he expected to, the reminder of his blindness was almost a shock. It took him a minute to even remember that he wasn't entirely sure where he was, other than San Francisco, and he wasn't even sure about that. Then he remembered the voice, the one that matched the one in his head from the night before. A finger brushed along the side of his face and he flinched back, trying to sit up and fight his way free. He was too twisted in the blankets, though, and couldn't move.
"Not much of a hunt," he whispered after a minute.
"It wasn't easy to find you, once you got off the street. You are well and truly caught, and mine to do with as I please." There was a cruel smile under those words, he could hear it, and his insides cringed.
"Don't," he whispered. "Please." Somehow he knew what was going to happen, the memories of one of his last conversations with his father came rushing back.
"You were chosen, my dear." She kissed his forehead as she had almost every night while he was growing up, but this time pain flared behind his eyes. He gasped, and tears of pain filled them. "The blindness was a mark, so I'd know my prey. And you were sent out, so I would be able to hunt one last time."
"Please, don't," he begged, barely able to think from the pounding in his head.
"Of all the family, it would be you." There was a faint touch of bitterness in her voice.
"All of them?" he demanded, trying to imagine any of the nieces and nephews and cousins in his position and honestly glad it wasn't one of them. "You put the children in danger?" That had come out almost a yell, and it seemed to echo in his head. He winced.
"Not all of them, Kevin. But one must die. You are that one." Her hand slid down his chest, under the blankets until it rested over his heart. "You have the most to give up."
Pain shot through his chest, spreading over most of his body, and wrung a cry from him. His back arched in reflex. Suddenly, the touch was gone, the pain fading to a dull ache, and there were voices around him that he couldn't understand yet. He was shaking again, shivering so hard that it made his teeth rattle, which didn't do anything for his headache. A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched away with a whimper that he knew he'd be embarrassed about any other time but now.
"It's just me," a familiar voice said gently, and he relaxed a little. Hands pulled at the blankets, freeing him, and as soon as he could he lunged up and leaned against the back of the couch.
"She didn't hurt you?" he asked, and his voice trembled. He didn't try to hide it.
"No. You were her target."
"Do you know who it was?" A different voice, but he really had no names to fit with them.
"Yes." He rubbed at his chest. He could still feel her hand on him, the pain fading more with each passing moment; it was possible that it faded with distance as well as time.
"Who?" This voice was sharper, the woman who had come in later.
He took a deep breath, willing his voice not to give out on him. "My mother."
Silence surrounded him. "Your mother," a soft voice repeated. Someone touched his shoulder and he flinched away, but without the whimper this time. He was beginning to feel better. He hoped. "Will she come back?"
He nodded. "Probably. Until I'm dead or she is." The adrenalin wore off in a rush, and he was exhausted again.
"Go back to sleep. We'll make sure nothing happens," the sharp voiced woman said. He paused a moment, then lay down. The soft sound of their voices put him to sleep.
"Okay, a demon that hunts her own children, and is mostly human, I think," Piper said as they moved slowly through the Book of Shadows. "That doesn't even sound familiar."
"What, have you read the whole book?" Phoebe demanded. "Most of what we face we've never even thought of in our nightmares."
"No, but I have looked through it, and that just doesn't sound like anything familiar."
"Here's one," Prue said, and her sisters turned their attention to her. Then she shook her head. "No, not this one. Didn't he say something about the children?" She read a little longer, then pursed her lips. "I think he meant she was literally his mother, too."
"She looks a little like him - or the other way around, I guess," Phoebe said.
"This one can't have children, so that's not it...." Prue sighed. "Piper, can you wake him up and ask if he was adopted?"
Piper lifted an eyebrow. "Why me?"
"Because he didn't flinch when you touched him," Phoebe said dryly.
"Yes, he did," Piper told her evenly, but stood up anyway and went over to the couch. When she returned, she looked puzzled. "He said no, and that his father died of an unidentified cancer, if that had anything to do with it." She glanced back at him. "He wasn't really awake."
"Unidentified cancer," Prue said, and continued looking. "All right, you two try to get some sleep. When I get too tired, I'll get one of you up to keep looking. She's going to come back as soon as she's recovered." She turned the page and held up a hand. "Oh. Wait. I think I found her."
The other two flanked her, reading over her shoulders. "Okay, we've got children - does he have two brothers? - a dead husband of unidentified causes, and the hunt thing..." Piper said.
"And the blindness," Phoebe said. "Here." She pointed to a line further down the page. "It says she goes on hunt; the challenge is to find the one that's blind, and kill him." She paused. "But she has to choose an heir; he wears rings, but none of them are on the right finger."
Prue snorted. "As if that meant anything. For all we know, he's got a girl at home with four kids."
"They have to be of her lineage, but not his," Piper said. "Okay, so the heir doesn't have to be his kid." She smiled slightly. "There's a few spells in here: one to kill her, one to cleanse the heir, and one to...." Her smile fell, and she shuddered. "I don't think we'll have to use that one."
"The one to kill her requires a potion," Prue said. "The recipe is on the next page."
"You aren't going to like this," Phoebe said suddenly.
"What?"
"The best defense is friends and relatives close to the victim. Get them in a circle around the hunted one, and the demon will not be able to get to him without breaking the circle." Phoebe checked her watch, and gasped. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked, realizing only then that the lights on in the house were rather redundant.
"Don't tell me we were up all night," Piper moaned.
"Yes," Prue said, and sighed. "I'm going to get breakfast and coffee, not in that order, and listen to the news while I do that. I don't think he'll wake up for a while."
Piper turned the TV on while they fixed themselves something to eat, then they sat around the book again, ignoring the news.
"There is an upside to this," Phoebe said. "We can get hold of his friends."
"The more there are, the better," Piper agreed, tapping the book. "We're going to need help to get this all together."
"But what if they...." Prue started, then her head whipped around to focus on the television.
"... missing since last night around 11:15. He vanished - literally, witnesses say - from the arena where the group had just finished performing a two hour set. Howie Dorough, also a member of Backstreet Boys, reported he got a phone call from Richardson, who was unable to tell him exactly where he was. Police have been searching everywhere, but have found no leads. Sources say they were unable to reach his mother to report his disappearance."
"Did they just say what I thought they did?" Phoebe asked slowly as a number to call to report any information flashed up on the screen. She glanced at their guest, who hadn't moved.
"Yes. One of the Backstreet Boys is asleep on our couch, blind, with his mother the demon after him," Piper enumerated. "What do we do now?"
"Call Howie," Prue said, and pressed redial on their phone.
Go on to Next Chapter | "Semi-Charmed Life"