Beware What You Wish

by Diana G. Gallagher

  “Apparently, Athulak delivered,” Prue said.

  “Except we stopped the disaster part.” Phoebe popped a ham roll in her mouth.

  “Which begs the question —” Piper shrugged when her sisters turned in tandem to stare. “What was Athulak doing at the park? Or in our living room?”

  “When I opened my big mouth and wished myself into this mess,” Phoebe mumbled.

  Prue winced. “That’s probably my fault. I, uh, used my power to stop the stone from falling over when Tremaine put it back in the display case.”

  Piper connected the rest of the dots. “Athulak saw you, and since he was imprisoned by a witch three thousand years ago, he decided to follow you to make sure it didn’t happen again.”

  “I think that about covers it.” Prue went to the refrigerator and removed a pitcher of orange juice. “Except I’m a little fuzzy on exactly where we’re at or what we’re supposed to do.”

  “Me, too.” Phoebe scratched her head, puzzled. “I mean, Tremaine’s wish doesn’t sound like something that could cause irreparable harm to the world.”

  That part wasn’t clear to Piper, either, but one indisputable fact was. “But it could spell big trouble for Noel Jefferson.”

  * * *

  Athulak vented his fury on any humans in his path as he followed the car carrying the witches. A spear of concentrated wind speeding through the city canyons at ground level, he stung bare flesh with bitter cold and ripped packages out of grasping hands. Potted plants and plastic furniture, signs and anything else that wasn’t weighted down were thrown about the streets in a frenzy of rage.

  He took no pleasure in the panic his passing created and cursed the long-ago people that had carried the word of his defeat across the generations.

  But his anger at the witches was greater and fueled his hunger for vengeance.

  Tenacious and blessed by the powers of good, they had sensed him and gone in search of knowledge. He had foolishly believed the old witch had buried his secrets with the stone.

  Now the witches knew his name and his power, and they were going to warn the focus of the primary wish.

  He would not permit them to succeed.

  When the car stopped by a large building, Athulak waited until the witches got out. Then he flattened and compressed the molecules of his invisible but nonetheless physical, form. Honing the edge of the molecular blade he had become, he severed a tall metal pole and sliced a red, white, and blue cloth to shreds as it drifted to the ground.

  “Did you see that?” Phoebe paused halfway across the parking lot outside the building that housed the offices of the Public Defender.

  Prue heard the flagpole snap and watched as Old Glory was ripped apart. There was only one plausible explanation. Athulak wasn’t satisfied with making his presence known with cold kisses anymore. “Stick close to me and run!”

  “It’s Athulak, isn’t it?” Phoebe pressed close to Prue as they charged for the door.

  “That’s my best guess.” Concentrating, Prue swept her hand in a circle above her head, creating a constant telekinetic shield to ward off the invisible enemy. Until the flagpole had been snapped in half, she hadn’t realized the wind spirit could cause them physical harm. She didn’t stop when they burst through the door into the lobby. Athulak was a creature made of air, and he could infiltrate the securest building through the ventilation system.

  “In there.” Still waving her arm, Prue urged Phoebe into the rest room. The instant they were inside, she locked the door and stood on the counter to close the vent.

  “What’s going on?” Phoebe asked, her voice frantic.

  “Apparently, Athulak can adjust his molecular density,” Prue explained. “In other words, he can turn himself into a very sharp, very lethal, invisible sword.”

  “So why didn’t he attack us before?”

  Prue shrugged. “Maybe because we didn’t know enough to be a threat before.”

  “That’s not exactly comforting.” Phoebe’s hand went to her throat as her gaze shifted to the crack under the door. “What’s to stop him from getting in under there?”

  “Magic. You chant. I’ll call Piper.” Prue flipped open her cell phone. “We need a spell to protect us against a spirit wind.”

  “I’m no good at thinking up spells under pressure,” Phoebe said frantically.

  “Punt!” Prue dialed.

  Nodding, Phoebe put her hand on the door and closed her eyes. “Fire, water, wind and air, cast in cosmic primal brine; bid Athulak’s wind, beware! No passage through this door I bind.”

  When Piper answered, Prue quickly explained their new problem. “We need a charm, something we can carry to protect us from a spirit wind.”

  “I’ve seen a spell to ward off demons who take elemental form in The Book of Shadows,” Piper said, “but it might take me a while to brew the potion and get there.”

  “We’ll wait.” Hanging up, Prue joined Phoebe, who was sitting on the counter, staring at the door. Once they had figured out that Noel Jefferson was in danger, they had realized they couldn’t protect him unless they knew exactly what the danger was. Phoebe had volunteered to find out, even though touching him might be painful. The more violent the calamity, the harder the physical impact was on Phoebe.

  And this time they were dealing with an event that might be the beginning of the end of the world.

  Prue glanced at the door and smiled. “Nice job.”

  “I was motivated by the mental image of being beheaded in the parking lot.” Phoebe shuddered.

  Prue leaned back with a weary sigh. They had faced many demons, warlocks, and other malicious beings that had seemed too powerful to beat at first. They had always prevailed, but Athulak was unlike anything they had encountered before. They didn’t have a clue how to vanquish him, and if Piper’s protection charm didn’t repel him, they had no defense against a razor-sharp molecular blade.

  Prue tensed when she heard the murmur of voices and laughter in the hall outside. Someone tried to open the locked door and pounded when it wouldn’t budge.

  “Hey!” a female voice protested. “Open up!”

  “Don’t think so,” Phoebe whispered, frowning.

  Prue held up one hand to telekinetically reinforce the deadbolt and checked her watch. It was just after five. She hoped Piper showed up before a maintenance crew arrived to unlock the door or before everyone, including Noel Jefferson, went home.

  Athulak had not been prepared for the destructive effects when he tried to cut through the witch’s barrier. The impact with the undulating wall of force had almost annihilated his cohesion. In danger of having his molecules scattered on the lesser wind, he had mustered the last of his dwindling energy and retreated into the labyrinth of ducts in the building. He barely managed to hold himself together as he slipped through the tunnels and into the room where Noel Jefferson sat behind a desk.

  Struggling to maintain his physical integrity, Athulak eased himself under the door of a smaller, dark room where the man kept many boxes and cloth coverings. Safe in the cramped space on the floor, Athulak relaxed and allowed himself to drift.

  Thwarted and weakened, he rested to recoup his strength and nursed his hatred for the females and their overwhelming magic. He took comfort in knowing that soon the power of destruction would be his and found solace in the inevitability of his victory. No power on earth or beyond would be able to vanquish him or undo the cataclysm after the primary wish was fulfilled.

  The chain of events begun when Tremaine had prayed to be delivered from his foe could not be stopped.

  Unless the seer touched Jefferson and saw his destiny.

  Athulak watched and waited. If necessary, he would risk further depletion of his diminished energies to strike the witches down.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Startled awake when Piper knocked on the rest room door, Phoebe hit the back of her head on the mirror. She rubbed the spot as Prue unlocked the door.

  “Sleeping on
the job, guys?” Piper quipped as she entered.

  “We didn’t have a deck of cards to help pass the time,” Phoebe retorted, rubbing her head. Actually, she couldn’t believe she had dozed off with the slice-and-dice wind demon on the rampage. Spells composed on the spot in emergency situations didn’t always perform as expected. Fortunately, her binding spell to keep the spirit wind out of the rest room had worked. Neither she nor Prue had lost any fingers or toes.

  But she hadn’t solved the problem that had plagued her thoughts before she had drifted off. They were so worried about protecting Noel Jefferson, they hadn’t addressed the possibility that a wish Athulak granted might be permanent. Runaway ponies and other single-occurrence disasters could be stopped, but what if the wish that had enhanced her powers couldn’t be reversed?

  “What took you so long, Piper?” Prue slid off the counter and took the leather-wrapped packet Piper was holding out. “It’s after seven.”

  “It’s Friday night, and the downtown traffic is brutal,” Piper explained as she handed a second packet to Phoebe.

  “Better late than not at all.” Phoebe sniffed the spicy tang wafting off the small leather pouch, surprised by the pleasant scent. It reminded her of warm spiced cider and cinnamon. The last charm Piper had tried had smelled like burned cow manure laced with rotten garbage. “What’s in it?”

  “Raw chicken hearts, falcon feather, and assorted fungi with some ordinary household spices.” Piper eyed Prue pointedly. “It had to simmer for an hour.”

  “You did great, Piper. Thanks.” Prue stuffed the packet in the front pocket of her jeans. “You didn’t happen to notice if Noel Jefferson is still in the building, did you?”

  “Because if we’re too late to stop whatever’s going to happen to him, Athulak wins and the world is toast.” Phoebe eased off the counter and pocketed her charm.

  “I don’t know,” Piper said. “I came directly here from the main entrance.”

  “Guess we’d better find out.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Phoebe waved her sisters toward the door.

  The lobby was deserted, but all the lights were on, giving Phoebe some hope that Noel Jefferson was working late. A quick check of the wall directory by the elevator revealed that Jefferson’s office was on the third floor. However, when Prue pushed the elevator call button, nothing happened.

  “You must need a key to use it after hours.” Prue hit the metal door with her fist.

  “Can I help you, ladies?” a man asked sharply.

  Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at a large security guard walking toward them. Instead of smiling, she opted for a look of frantic desperation, which wasn’t difficult because she was frantically desperate. “I hope so. We have to see Noel Jefferson right away. It’s an emergency.”

  “Life and death,” Piper added.

  “Yeah?” The man’s frown deepened when he stopped in front of them. His suspicious gaze sized each of them up as though they matched descriptions on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. “No can do, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s really important.” Prue nudged Piper, a notso-subtle hint that she should get ready to freeze the guard where he stood. Then they could take the stairs to the third floor.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, “but Mr. Jefferson left for his campaign headquarters half an hour ago.”

  “Where is that exactly?” Phoebe asked.

  “This building is closed. The door’s over there.” The guard scowled and made a shooing motion.

  “Never mind, Phoebe,” Prue said in a strained voice. “I know where it is.”

  “Okay.” Phoebe noticed Prue’s set jaw and flexing fingers. She took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the exit. “We’re going.”

  Phoebe whispered in Prue’s ear as they stalked across the lobby. “Being unhelpful is not a crime punishable by telekinetic temper tantrum.”

  “I wasn’t going to do anything,” Prue whispered back. “There’s no unwritten law against thinking about it.”

  Piper paused at the door and looked back to get in the last word with the guard. “Thanks for all your help. I’m sure the district attorney will be glad to know you’re on the job protecting public buildings and public defenders from the public.”

  Phoebe yanked her through the door.

  “I’m not sorry.” Piper fumed as they headed across the parking lot.

  The security guard’s manner no longer concerned Phoebe. She patted her pocket to make sure the charm was still there and scanned the evening sky. The air was warm and still, but Athulak could be hovering anywhere, waiting to attack. She hoped Piper had read the potion directions correctly. Depending on cinnamon-scented chicken hearts for their safety pushed the limits of trust.

  Piper stopped by her car and leaned on the door. “Do you need me for the campaign headquarters caper?”

  Prue glanced at Phoebe.

  Phoebe shrugged. She understood that Piper was pressed to get everything ready for the bazaar tomorrow. The constant interruptions for rescues real and imagined had seriously interfered with her schedule. “I don’t think so. I just have to touch Mr. Jefferson to find out what we need to know.”

  “What if you can’t find him?” Piper asked.

  Bazaar or no bazaar, Phoebe realized, Piper wouldn’t shirk her duty to protect an innocent. However, direct contact with Noel Jefferson was absolutely essential. “No problem. We can probably find something that belongs to Mr. Jefferson at his campaign office.”

  Prue nodded. “And if not, we can ask Darryl to find him for us.”

  “Good idea!” Phoebe brightened. Having a contact within the police department came in handy, especially since Detective Darryl Morris knew they were witches.

  “Okay, but call me if you run into trouble.” Piper slipped behind the wheel, closed the door, and waved as she drove off.

  Phoebe stared out the side window as Prue drove through the downtown nightlife districts as fast as traffic and traffic lights allowed. At eight o’clock, with daylight surrendering to the encroaching shadows of imminent darkness, all the restaurants and clubs were filling up. Couples sat at window tables, sipping drinks with gazes locked or strolled the sidewalks holding hands. Ignorance was bliss, Phoebe thought with unabashed envy.

  She smiled, thinking of Rick and wondering if he was as intelligent as he was handsome and if he was as nice as he seemed. If circumstances had been different last night and they had had a chance to talk, he might have asked her out to dinner tonight.

  And she would have had to break the date to save Noel Jefferson and the world from some unknown but horrible fate.

  The weight of responsibility was a big pain in the butt sometimes. Phoebe sighed.

  “I know this is hard on you, Phoebe.” Prue spoke without taking her eyes off the road.

  “Yeah.” Shifting her gaze frontward, Phoebe sighed again. “I know it’s not easy for Piper with Leo being gone so much, but at least she’s got someone who knows and understands that our lives are not entirely our own.”

  “What are you talking about?” Prue cast a quick, perplexed glance in Phoebe’s direction.

  “Men.” Phoebe grinned. “Is there anything else?”

  “There is tonight,” Prue said. “We’ll find the loves of our lives one of these days.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Phoebe agreed. “If we ever find time to hunt for them.”

  Prue shot her a pointed look. “Unless Rick turns out to be a total jerk, your hunting days could be over.”

  “We’ll probably have a great time for a while, but sooner or later the witch factor will ruin it. There will be questions I won’t be able to answer honestly, broken dates I can’t explain, and so on and so forth. Doomed from the start.”

  “Isn’t that being a little too pessimistic?” Prue asked without looking at Phoebe, her pensive gaze fastened on the road ahead.

  “No, just being realistic.” Phoebe sighed.

  “Except that maybe none of that will matter when the
right man comes along,” Prue said.

  Phoebe wanted to believe Prue, but she wasn’t going to delude herself. For now she’d just take everything one step at a time. Rick hadn’t even asked her out to dinner yet!

  “There it is.” Prue pointed at a strip mall on the right.

  The Jefferson for Congress campaign headquarters occupied an office at the far end of the retail complex. Lights blazed inside and out, and a dozen people were visible through the large front windows. Phoebe fought off a surge of anxiety as Prue pulled into a parking space. She hadn’t considered a scenario in which she had to brave a crowd to get to the main man.

  “Ready?” Prue dropped her keys in her bag and opened the door.

  “Yeah, but —” Phoebe hesitated. She didn’t want to admit she was afraid of having her mind crash and burn from too much input, but she had to be honest. “Try to run point for me as much as you can, okay? The fewer people I touch, the better.”

  “Will do.” Prue smiled, but her eyes couldn’t hide her concern. “Let’s go.”

  Phoebe braced herself as she followed Prue into the bustling office. Red-white-and-blue bunting adorned the back wall, lending a festive contrast to the line of gray metal filing cabinets underneath. Posters featuring Jefferson’s smiling face were plastered on the wall space that wasn’t filled with rally schedules, membership forms for his political party, and other campaign paraphernalia. None of the people who were furiously sorting and stapling papers, manning the phone banks, or engaged in heated arguments seemed to notice them as they entered.

  Phoebe wrapped her arms around herself to reduce the chance of rubbing elbows with the people sitting at a front table. They were all talking into telephones and scribbling on pledge cards.

  “Jefferson’s not in here,” Prue said after a cursory scan of the room. “I’m going to ask the man at that desk over there.”

  “Where you lead, I will follow.” Phoebe stuck close as Prue approached the desk. She didn’t know a young woman had burst through the door behind her until it was too late to avoid contact.

  “Hey, Mace!” The pretty young redhead in heels and a stylish hunter green suit pushed between Phoebe and Prue, waving a paper.