Page 21 of Charmed

She had the faintest recollection of being transported while Riley spoke frantically to her, but the full spectrum of consciousness loomed on the fringes beyond her grasp. Frigid waves seized her limbs, settled in her bones, and she couldn't so much as shiver. She was trapped in her own body. Fear clamped her windpipe and she struggled to focus.

Someone squeezed her hand, grounding her. Instinct told her it was Riley, but she had no idea how she knew. The voices grew louder, more clear. She could make out Aunt Mara, Tristan, and...Kaida? Probably Kaida, yes. The scent of jasmine indicated Ceara was close by. The hand holding hers shook, then Riley's voice rose over the others. It sounded like gibberish, but she knew the inflection. Distress. Warm fingers skimmed her forehead, and they were too gentle or yielding to be his.

Shoring her reserve, Fiona forced herself to relax a beat in order to gear up the strength to scream. Perhaps she could break through whatever this was and wake up. She did a mental countdown from ten, but at number seven, air was forcibly shoved into her lungs.

Her lids flew open. A screeching wail scored her throat.

The room blurred before her and heat infused her glacial body so fast she thought she'd caught fire. Agony seared. Dulled. Throbbed.

Where was she? Crap. Just where exactly was she?

Furniture. A fireplace.

Blackened shapes shifted, their forms that of...people. She was laying prone. Too high to be on the floor. Not big enough for a bed. Hot tears streamed down her cool cheeks as her scream was suddenly cut off by someone's face hovering above hers, their warm touch a jolt.

Terror infused every cell and she fought to get free. Struggling, kicking, she vaulted off the couch cushions and over the back of the sofa. She landed with a thud on the hardwood floor. Pain jarred her hip, but she pushed through it and stood on trembling legs, her palms outstretched to conjure wind. She had to create distance from whomever held her captive. Get away.

But nothing happened. She couldn't sense the hum of magick always inside her, and her chest grew tight. Panicked, confused, she shook her hands and tried again. Nada.

One of the forms moved closer, slowly as if cautious. "Fi, you're safe. You're at home."

Wait. She knew that voice. The low timbre was familiar. Not necessarily invoking comfort, but the man attached to it wouldn't harm her. Ever. "Riley?"

"Yeah, babe. It's me. You're all right. I promise."

Details of her surroundings began to emerge. Burgundy walls above a chair rail and wainscoting. Bookshelves. Tables with glass bottles and spheres. Plants. Candles on a decorative mantel. Floor-to-ceiling stained-glass panels along the far side of the room.

And people. Her people. Friends and family.

She looked at the man closest to her, and events flooded to mind. The woods with Riley. Minister Meath. A vial. Green smoke.

Concern blanketed everything else as she ran her gaze over Riley. He wore the same jeans and blue tee from after their training session. Grass and dirt stained the knees, but his clothes weren't torn. No cuts. No blood. No visible bruising.

In fact, he seemed more worried about her than anything. His brows furrowed deeper, lips parting like he was having trouble getting air. A day's worth of scruff darkened his jaw, his black hair was standing on end, and his gray-green eyes were beseeching. Though he remained motionless, energy buzzed from him as if he were restraining himself.

They'd been walking in the clearing last she remembered. His uncle had suddenly shown up and he'd... Threatened them? How had she gotten home?

More importantly... "Did he hurt you?" She seethed, clenching her fists. So help her, she'd rip that bastard limb from limb if he'd touched Riley. "Did he?"

"Uh, no." His throat worked a swallow, features relaxing a degree. "You seemed to be his target."

Her gaze drifted while she tried to conjure the particulars. Most were hazy ripples.

"Would you come sit for a few minutes?" He rubbed his chest like it hurt. "You were out cold for at least thirty minutes before Ceara was able to wake you. Please?"

Wake her from what?

The others appeared just as fretful, standing around and staring holes through her.

She wove around the couch and sank onto the cushions. "He had a potion," she mumbled to Riley as he claimed the seat beside hers. "Right?"

"Aye, lass." Aunt Mara sat on the table in front of her and set two fingers on the pulse at Fiona's wrist. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I think. My mind's a little fuzzy." Then something else niggled at her memory. Lifting her palm, she attempted to use wind to push at a stack of papers on the end table. Zilch. Dread settled in her belly. "I don't have my powers."

"Judging by what Riley told us, it was a sleeping potion." Aunt Mara nodded as if satisfied by Fiona's heart rate and let go of her wrist. "Ceara incanted a spell and you came to rather fast. It'll take some time for the effects to wear off. Don't you worry."

Riley bounced his knee incessantly in nervous energy.

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