Scully raced across the room and dropped to her knees beside Mulder. Her heart was beating frantically and her hands trembled as she reached out to touch him.

His face contorting in an agonized grimace, he rolled away from her searching fingers.

"Mulder?" She was faintly aware of Chantal crouching on the floor behind her. And she frowned when the woman she recognized from the photo in Chantals's shop - Odette - sank to the floor beside Mulder in a swirl of red skirts and black hair. Her eyes narrowed as the other woman gathered Mulder into her arms and her breath caught when she saw his features relax at Odette's touch.

"Mulder, please," she crawled across the floor on her hands and knees to reach him. "What's wrong?"

Mulder could barely hear Scully through the roaring in his ears, the frantic tone of her voice barely registering. He dragged open heavy-lidded eyes to find her concerned face close to his own. Fresh pain washed through him and he slammed his eyes shut, instinctively turning away from her and burrowing into the comfort and relief found in the arms surrounding him.

"Shhh, mon coeur," Odette cooed. She ran her red-tipped fingers through his hair. "Everything will be well." Her eyes clashed with her sister's shocked gaze, and Odette lifted her pointed little chin challengingly.

"Oh no." Chantal's voice came out in a rasp of panic and she shook her head despairingly. "Odette, what have you done?"

Odette's gaze was locked onto the face of the man in her arms. "I have taken back what is mine," she murmured. "You stole him from me once," she whispered to her sister, as she trailed her knuckles over his warm cheek, "and he died because of your betrayal." A triumphant smile curved her lips at the sound of the pained gasp that escaped Chantal's mouth.

She glared at Chantal, enjoying the hurt she'd inflicted on her older sibling. "Your love killed him," she said accusingly. Her lips pursed in a false moue of sympathy as she watched a tear trickle over her sister's pale cheek. "Poor, silly bebe, you never knew, did you? That he was mine. Tres stupide, n'cest pas? But he has returned to me and this time he will know there is no other woman for him but me." She leaned down and brushed her mouth over Mulder's. And her next impassioned murmur sent fresh shock through the two women who knelt on the expensive oriental carpet and watched the surreal tableau play out before them.

"Je t'aime, Guy."

Those words may have been spoken in French, but Scully knew their meaning... and her hands clenched into tights fists, her entire body going on protective alert for her partner. It was obvious this 'Guy' was a dead lover - and just as obvious that he'd belonged to Chantal, not her crazy sister, for beside her Chantal moaned tearfully and buried her face in her hands.

Mulder's senses swam as he was enveloped in the cloying scent of Odette's perfume and he weakly turned his face away from hers. He struggled to focus and for a moment he was caught on the knife's edge of the fierce emotions that radiated from the three women surrounding him. Those emotions were a kaleidoscope of colors hammering at his battered senses - the gray of Chantal's aching sadness, the black of Odette's insanity. The red of Scully's fury.

He wanted to break away from the grip of this dangerously unstable woman, wanted nothing more than to cling to his partner, his lover. He also knew Odette had charmed him somehow, turning him against Scully in the most agonizing way possible. He couldn't even look at her, attempt to reassure her; the stabbing pain all through his body bore testament to the power of Odette's magick.

Mulder's peripheral glance caught the rustle of Scully's jacket as she moved suddenly, her voice a low snarl of anger. "Get your hands off him!" She rose to her feet and stood threateningly over Odette. The other woman laughed mockingly and once again tightened her arms around Mulder, who was too weakened by pain to push her away.

"You do not listen well," Odette smirked. "He was never yours. Always he was mine, five years ago he was mine! Death could not keep him from my side... YOU cannot keep him, either!" She looked back down at the face pressed against her generous breasts, then sidled a mocking glance up at her adversary. "He cannot even bear to look at you," she laughed. "Can you not see? The sight of your face makes him sick!" Once again she ran her fingers over his face, cupped his jaw possessively and lowered her mouth to his.

That gesture of greed was the last straw, and a low growl of rage rumbled in Scully's chest. Knowing she was taking a chance on causing Mulder more pain, still she couldn't stand to see this murderous bitch touching him any longer. Bracing her feet, Scully swung at Odette. Her backhanded slap caught the other woman across the face and sent her sprawling to the floor. Scully took advantage of the moment and hurriedly moved between Odette and Mulder. She was reaching for the gun nestled in the holster at the small of her back when Odette's foot swept through the air and knocked her to the ground.

Scully's gun clattered to the floor and spun out of her reach. Odette kicked out again and her foot caught her opponent sharply on the temple, leaving her dazed. Odette spun and ran into her private sanctuary.

Scully shook her head to clear it and saw Odette's red skirts disappear into another room. What happened next took place in a lightning quick passage of seconds.

Staggering to her feet, Scully glanced wildly around the room looking for her gun. She found it in a corner near a small table and rushed to pick it up. Scully wrapped her fingers around the gun, for a moment taking comfort in the cool familiarity of the grip in her hand. She heard Odette's crazed shriek of laughter a second before she sensed the other woman slip up behind her.

Scully straightened, her finger curled around the trigger. As she brought her arm up to fire she felt a burning pain across her bicep and the gun fell from suddenly nerveless fingers. Blood ran in crimson rivulets down her arm and she swayed dizzily, her stomach
heaving with pain and the sickening scent of her own blood.

Scully cursed herself for the momentary loss of control that had caused her to strike out at the woman first and reach for her gun second. Dazed and numb, her eyes focused on the blood dripping from the ritual knife in her adversary's hand. Odette raised her arm over her head for the killing blow and Scully turned her face toward Mulder for one last despairing look, understanding for certain just how helpless her position truly was. She'd never reach her gun... her shooting arm was incapacitated. And Mulder was barely conscious.

Then suddenly it was as if time itself had stopped. Everyone caught their breath as the light in the room faded. Shadows rushed down the walls and across the floor, dark and malevolent. Three gray, threatening specters, they coalesced in the center of the room and hovered over the polished wood floor, their murky outlines rising up and forming a trio of misshapen entities.

Odette's knife slipped from her fingers and she stared at the spectres, eyes wide with terror. As Scully watched in disbelief, it seemed the younger woman shrank almost into herself. Odette's arms came up around her head in a protective gesture and her voice was
reedy with fright and despair.

"I did nothing wrong! Sejour loin de moi! STAY AWAY!"

She slid to the floor on her knees and tried to crawl away, but the shadows followed relentlessly, homing in on their prey. Odette managed to scuttle halfway across the floor but her heel caught on the edge of a wool carpet runner. She fell to her side and rolled over onto her back, both hands stretched out in front of her, the defensive gesture as ineffectual as her attempted escape had been.

There was no escape this time, not from the deeds she'd perpetrated and from the lives she'd so arrogantly taken.

With silent purpose the shadows descended upon her, forcing an agonized scream from her bloodless lips. In a blinding flash of light they engulfed her, lifting her up and then flinging her across the room. Odette's body hit the wall with a dull thud and she slid to the floor.

A tiny gasp slipped from her throat and one word materialized as her breath hitched for the last time.

"Guy..."

And she was gone. Her eyes stared sightlessly toward Mulder; on the floor where it had fallen the ritual knife glowed brightly for a moment before fading to a dull gleam.

Chantal cried out, "ODETTE!" Rushing to her side, the grieving woman scooped the body of her baby sister into her arms and wept against her tangled black hair.

Mulder groaned and shook his head, residual stings of pain lancing through the muscles of his arms and legs, before draining out and leaving him weak but coherent. He sat up gingerly, scrubbing his hands against his face to clear his vision and saw Scully collapsing
to the floor, bright blood coating her arm.

"Scully!" Ignoring his lingering aches, he scrambled across the carpet and gathered her close. She moaned and her head lolled wearily against his shoulder.

"Mulder, are you okay?" she whispered.

He nodded and laid her gently on the carpet. "There's no more pain. I'm all right," he told his partner. "You're the one who's bleeding." He laid gentle fingers on her arm. "Let me see how bad it is." She braced herself as he tore open the sleeve of her shirt to inspect the wound. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, her face pale from the loss of blood but she couldn't stop staring at him.

"It's deep," he fretted. Picking up the now-dull ritual knife from the floor, he cut the sleeve completely away from her shirt and pressed the fabric against the wound. "Maybe some muscle damage." Mulder reached into his pocket for his cellphone and came up empty.
He slapped his free hand against his clothing, wildly searching for his phone.

"In my bag." Scully raised her head from the floor and weakly pointed in the general direction of the leather tote that had fallen to the floor. "You left your phone back in the hotel room," she rasped.

Milder hurriedly grabbed her bag and dragged it back to where she lay. He yanked a phone - his phone, her phone, he had no idea whose - from the tote and placed a call for emergency aid with trembling fingers.

"This is Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI," he stated as he clamped the fingers of his other hand over the makeshift bandage. "I need you to send an ambulance and the police to 19 Fourth Street. I have an agent down and," he glanced across the room to where Chantal was holding her sister's body, "our perp is dead at the scene."

He listened for another moment as the operator confirmed the address, then ended the call.

"They're on their way," he whispered. He gently eased his arms around her again, lifting her from the floor. She sighed softly as his warmth surrounded her.

"It's going to be okay," she reassured him. Her good arm curled around his neck and his breath broke over her face in a shaky sigh of agreement when he brushed his mouth over hers.

Rocking her in his embrace, he listened, as the wail of sirens grew steadily closer.

San Diego
Central Division Police
Balboa Park
Saturday, 9:10 PM

"I had no idea, Mon Dieu. You must believe me. I didn't know Odette could be conjuring such dark charmes." Chantal Thibodeaux sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair and gripped a paper cup of coffee between trembling fingers. Across from her on an equally-
uncomfortable sofa, Mulder held Scully's hand in both his own. Her head rested on his shoulder and she had finally given in to the load of painkillers she'd been ordered to swallow; she was asleep, cradled in his arms. Mulder had tried talking her into staying overnight at the hospital; she'd refused. With an arm bound in a tight ace bandage and immobilized in a sling, twenty neat stitches holding the knife wound closed, Scully knew she'd be in a lot of pain but she was determined to remain locked to Mulder's side.

He sure wasn't complaining about that.

He held her gently and let her sleep, leaning back on the sofa and meeting Chantal's sad eyes with his usual steady regard. It was late and all he wanted to do was take Scully back to their room at the Days Inn, roll them both into the bed-sheets and sleep for several
days. But Chantal needed to talk and as long as Scully was safe in his arms, Mulder was more than willing to listen.

But first, he had a few questions of his own. "I think you must have suspected something, am I right? She was your sister. You must have known for a while that she was troubled, not herself. After all, you worked together closely, every day." Mulder stroked a careful hand over Scully's back, soothing himself as much as her, as he spoke.

Chantal started to protest, then shook her head and offered a helpless shrug. "Oui. I won't lie to myself any longer. Yes, I knew something was wrong, had been wrong for some time. After Guy... passed away," she tried not to choke on the upsetting words, "after he was gone my world was in shambles. The morning it happened I'd been sewing my wedding gown; I was so happy. His grandmere's betrothal ring was on my finger. And Odette... she had been so quiet about the wedding plans, but I thought she was just feeling emotional, you comprenez? Happy for me, but full of emotion. She always felt everything so deeply, it was her way."

She took a shaky breath and wiped at her eyes. "We moved to San Diego at the invitation of my Tante Louisa. She had a shop and was expanding, she needed help. I was still in mourning, and Odette was becoming withdrawn. I didn't know why but I was too miserable to say much to her. There was nothing left for us in New Orleans, so we moved. We stayed with Louisa and Tante Nanette until we could start a shop of our own and find a place to live. But Odette wanted to live by herself; at the time I never questioned why. I just let her go. I needed to mourn alone; I suppose I pushed my sister away from me. But I never imagined - I never thought..." Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes as she stared pleadingly at Mulder, "I didn't know she had loved Guy! She never said a thing to me. If I'd only known..."

Mulder tried to reassure her. "Chantal, you were in love with a man who loved you back. From the sound of it, he probably didn't even know Odette existed in any capacity other than your younger sister. This isn't your fault; first and foremost you have to understand
that. Your sister harbored an unhealthy obsession for a man she could never have, and she somehow found a way to destroy the future you'd just begun to build together. I've no doubt she was responsible for his death. And I think you understand better now, just what she was capable of."

The bustling entrance of Rosa Damarco interrupted their conversation. Even late into the evening the rotund detective was as colorful and wild-haired as ever, dressed in a lime-green suit, her wiry curls spilling out of a haphazard bun pinned atop her head.

She plopped down in the nearest chair and regarded Scully with a jerk of her chin. "How's she doing? Can't believe she's not in a hospital, Dios! You should have insisted. What kind of boyfriend are you, anyway?" Not giving a sheepish-faced Mulder the chance to
reply, Rosa barreled on. "Okay, we got the data from Odette Thibodeaux's computer, remind me to send thanks to that Warren kid for staying late. A real whiz-bang, that boy, I should be so lucky to have someone that sharp working for me. Anyhow," she pulled a
folded sheet of paper from her pocket and slapped a pair of fuchsia reading glasses on her nose, "according to the kid, Thibodeaux operated a 'dark charme' web site under the name 'Hexagon'. Brenda Jordan somehow found the site while surfing over at the Java Net, and the rest you already know. Guess this Odette liked her spells nasty."

At a pained gasp from Chantal, Rosa angled her a glance of brief sympathy. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know she was your baby sister, but she was also a killer. For whatever reason, your sissy chose her life path. It's nothing to do with you, got that? Don't you go
heaping even a teaspoon of guilt on your shoulders." She reached out a pudgy hand and squeezed Chantal's arm gently, then surged to her feet and trotted over to the door, adding, "You're all free to go."

At the twin looks of surprise on the faces of Mulder and Chantal, Rosa snorted. "You forget, I'm from Mexico. San Duartes, to be exact. I know all about Brujas - witches," she clarified. "I was born into a family of traditional Mexacali Catholics: spell-casters, tarot cards, and a lot of mysticism. You name it. My mama was a medium and talked to the dead all the damn day long. Even our stupid dog could send you the evil eye and give you the creeps. Believe me, I have no problem at all swallowing this kind of thing."

Rosa winked at Chantal, her kind smile enveloping the distraught woman in sudden warmth; then she looked Mulder up and down appreciatively. "Agent Mulder, you take care of your pretty lady, you hear? Or else I'll have to come to DC and kick your ass. Don't
think I won't do it, hell, I'd probably enjoy it! Now get some sleep; you all look like something my cat wouldn't even drag in from the front yard." The door of the interrogation room slammed behind her, the noise awakening Scully who sat up and pushed tangled hair out of her eyes.

Mulder pressed his lips to her forehead, in affection as much as an attempt to check her temperature. "Hey. How're you feeling?" He kept a supportive arm around her and Scully sighed and stretched carefully.

"I feel as though a Mack truck ran over me backwards, then dumped a case of swords on my arm. Hopefully, that's not how I look, as well."

Mulder gave her a tender once-over; she was pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes; her hair stuck out all over and her chin was bruised. She looked gorgeous and he told her so, watching with interest as her cheeks flushed pink.

She pushed at him with her uninjured arm. "You're not capable of making a fair judgment, Mulder. I seem to remember you telling me once how cute I looked with mumps." She smiled at him, recalling the way he'd gone into detailed rhapsody over her ten-year old chipmunk cheeks, as they'd sat side by side one evening in her apartment and had flipped through an old photo album.

Mulder kissed her nose. "Well, you were damned adorable with those puffy eyes and puffier cheeks, Scully. I knew there and then I was in love," he added, ignoring her muttered, "Oh, brother."

He looked up when Chantal cleared her throat softly, and smiled at her, wishing there was something he could do to ease the pain and disillusionment he knew she had to be feeling. And he hated like hell to have to ask her anything more, but there were still a lot of
unanswered questions.

He played with Scully's fingers as he queried, "Chantal, there are some things we need to talk about. I'm sure you can guess what we need to ask you."

Chantal nodded, wiping at her eyes with a wrinkled handkerchief. "You wish to know if the charme Odette used to taint that cake has been lifted by her death. Yes, I would say it has. The rule of 'three times three' is very definitive, and it's a power not to be fooled with." At Scully's look of confusion, Chantal hastened to explain.

"Our magick is governed by strict rules. We are to use our powers for good, not evil or even personal gain. It's a positive force meant to assist in making the universe a more balanced place. However, there are those who would misuse their power. I am saddened
to know my own sister was one such person."

She struggled for a moment with her emotions, fighting to get them under control, then continued. "When a spell-caster casts dark or negative charmes, their power is in turn charged negatively. There is a rule called 'three times three'. It means that whatever you do to someone else will in turn revisit you, three-fold. Odette not only forced negative power upon the world; she also drew blood with her ritual knife, when she cut you. Such an act of violence is forbidden. We cannot use the knife to harm any living creature;
retribution is swift and fatal, as you yourself could see."

Mulder nodded, reliving again the moment when those three frightening shadows of deep gray slid over Odette's body and threw her back against the wall. He shuddered, feeling Scully shiver as well.

He gathered her closer. "So when the 'three times three' rule ended Odette's life, it also negated whatever charmes she'd set that were still active."

Chantal nodded, "Yes, certainment. The one she'd set over Mademoiselle Scully, and the one she used to poison the birthday cake. You should have no further trouble with either."

Scully slanted a look up at Mulder. "You think we should test it out, Mulder? I could tell a whopping lie, and see what happens." Mulder visibly paled. "I don't think that's a good idea, Scully. We can't take a chance like that -"

She interrupted him with a hand to his mouth. "Mulder... I'm a reasonably truthful person but everyone fibs and everyone lies now and then. It's human nature. I can't go through life trying to second-guess myself twenty-four hours a day, and I can't just blurt out my thoughts with little regard for someone's feelings. I'd go insane and so would you." She curled her hand around his neck and pulled him down until she could reach his lips; kissed him softly. Mulder clutched her tightly, staring over her bright head at Chantal Thibodeaux. The blonde woman returned his pleading expression with as much reassurance as she could muster.

After a long moment Mulder swallowed hard and nodded. He caught Scully closer, burying his face in her soft hair. He whispered, "Okay. Go ahead. Give it your best shot, baby."

Scully took a deep breath, unable to quell the queasiness in her stomach at the thought of testing Chantal's theory. It had to be done, though... She straightened her shoulders and looked Mulder square in the eyes, then declared firmly, "Mulder, I don't love you."

Mulder's arms tightened convulsively and he groaned under his breath... but nothing happened. Scully remained in his embrace, warm and alive. He managed to croak out a weak, "You wanna rephrase that, Partner?"

Her relieved chuckle was music to his ears. "Certainly, Partner. I love you." She curled herself close to his heart, her arms ringing his neck, and repeated it into his parted lips.

"I love you, Mulder."

The smile on his face was as bright as a sunrise. "Ditto, Scully."

Her voice dripped affront. "Ditto? That's all you have to say to me?"

He snickered, "Oh, not by a long shot. You just wait until I get you alone, Chipmunk Cheeks."


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