Beware What You Wish

by Diana G. Gallagher

  Then her charming, elderly companion had wandered over with a doughnut in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and asked if he could sit down. She could hardly refuse since the chair at her table was the only vacant seat under the tent. She had spent the last half hour listening to his stories about working on various sets.

  There was just one problem. He had touched her hand when he had reached for a napkin.

  The vision was the first she had had all day and the effects weren’t as bad as they might have been. Through the sheer force of will, she had sat still through the vicious hammering in her head and the rush of nausea without collapsing, but that wasn’t the problem. How, Phoebe wondered, was she supposed to tell this sweet, cantankerous old guy his false teeth were going to fall out onstage?

  “There’s Noel now.” A woman at the next table gathered her papers and stuffed them into a briefcase.

  Phoebe straightened to look past the old man at the entrance to the tent. Tall and blond with a boyish grin, Jefferson entered surrounded by a large entourage. Phoebe recognized Jenny the redhead, Charlie with the clipboard, the mustache, and his lean, mean partner from their visit to Jefferson’s campaign headquarters last night. There were at least a dozen other men and women in the group, some of whom were reporters.

  There was no sign of Piper and Prue.

  “Who’s that?” The old man shifted in his chair to look at the commotion.

  “Noel Jefferson,” Phoebe said. “He’s running for Congress.”

  When the mass of people shifted, Phoebe real-ized Jefferson had his hand on the back of a pretty woman with blond hair wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat. The woman was holding the hand of a freckle-faced boy who looked about eight.

  Not married but appears to be very involved, Phoebe thought with a flash of regret for Prue. Their picnic discussion about the candidate as a romantic possibility for Prue had been in jest. Still, even a casual flirtation for fun was out of the question if the guy had his girlfriend along.

  Phoebe checked her watch and stood up. Jefferson was on in five minutes.

  “Darn politicians get more publicity than actors these days.” The old actor snorted and shook his head as he turned back around. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving? I was just getting warmed up!”

  “Yeah. I’d love to stay and listen, but I really have to go.” Resolved, Phoebe bent over and whispered in his ear. There was no way she could stand by and let him embarrass himself in front of all these people. “This is a little awkward, but I think you should check your dentures before you give your talk. Don’t be mad.”

  He reached up and squeezed her arm. “I’m not. Thank you.”

  “If I can, I’ll be watching.” Phoebe quickly moved to the food tables where the knots of people weren’t so concentrated. She wasn’t worried about Jefferson’s bodyguards trying to stop her today. The candidate was shaking every hand within reach, hoping to get votes. However, if she had a vision triggered by someone else before she reached him, the opportunity would be lost. She studied the room and chose a course that would work as long as nobody shifted position.

  Holding her arms close to her body, Phoebe wove her way around tables without incident. She stopped a few feet from the crowd gathered around Jefferson to figure out where to go next.

  “What’s your stand on campaign finance reform,” a newscaster asked.

  Jefferson didn’t try to evade a direct answer. “We have to keep soft money out of politics so our elected representatives at every level aren’t in the pockets of the special interests. The government’s first and only priority should be to the people who vote them into office.”

  Under different circumstances, Phoebe would have cheered.

  The reporters and TV news teams were concentrated in front of Jefferson. The mustache and the mean guy stood slightly behind and to the sides of the candidate, his date, and the kid. Beyond the group, she saw Prue and Piper waving frantically.

  A quick glance around made it clear that Piper could not freeze the scene to help her out. Aside from the people in the crowded tent, swarms of people were streaming by. There were easily a hundred people sitting in the audience waiting to hear Jefferson’s speech. Almost all of them were watching the impromptu press conference.

  “I want a doughnut.” The kid tugged on his mother’s hand.

  The woman leaned down and hushed him. “In a minute, Paul.”

  Catching Prue’s eye, Phoebe raised her hand and pointed to indicate she was going to try to get close to Jefferson from the rear. Using the crowd as a shield would be safer. If she keeled over after shaking the candidate’s hand, she’d attract too much attention. Touching his arm or shoulder was all the contact she needed, and nobody would notice if she collapsed on the back fringe of the gathering.

  Prue and Piper exchanged a word, then Prue ducked under the ropes to improve her position.

  Skirting the outer fringe, taking care not to touch anyone, Phoebe was halfway to her goal when the entire gathering seemed to shift as one entity. They all surged forward as the MC called Jefferson onto the stage.

  Phoebe clenched her fists, not sure what to do.

  Prue raised her hand and shot her a questioning glance.

  Piper watched helplessly from outside the tent. Knowing they might not have another chance if Jefferson eluded them this time, Phoebe moved behind Jefferson just as the guards began to close ranks to protect his back. As the candidate started to turn toward the stage, she lunged.

  In the same split second, the kid yanked his hand out of his mother’s grasp, spun, and ran into Phoebe.

  Thrown backward by the boy’s momentum, Phoebe sprawled on the ground as she was swept into the maelstrom of the vision.

  . . . clinging to a metal bar . . . the boy screaming in terror . . . watching Noel Jefferson fall from the top of the Ferris wheel . . .

  CHAPTER

  13

  Prue could not believe how fast things had gone so wrong.

  “Paul!” the woman in the straw hat yelled as Phoebe collapsed on the floor.

  Prue saw Noel Jefferson look back as she shoved through the jam of reporters.

  “What happened?” Jefferson frowned.

  “Nothing to worry about, sir.” The large security guard urged the candidate to keep moving toward the stage.

  The guard with the gray eyes turned as the boy’s mom knelt beside him. Several reporters blocked the guard’s view of Phoebe, and he quickly turned back to Jefferson.

  “I didn’t mean to.” The boy sniffed back tears. “But you said I could have a doughnut!”

  “It’s all right, Paul.” The woman reached out to touch Phoebe, who was curled up, clutching her stomach, her face contorted with pain.

  Prue gripped the woman’s shoulder, staying her hand. “Please, she’s my sister.”

  “She seems to be in a lot of pain.” The woman looked devastated as Prue eased around her and dropped down beside Phoebe. “I can’t believe Paul hit her that hard.”

  Prue caught sight of Piper arguing with the young woman by the entrance. Pulling Phoebe’s head into her lap, she smiled to reassure the boy’s mother. “It wasn’t his fault. She, uh — hasn’t been well.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” The woman seemed hesitant to go.

  “I’m sure. She just needs some air. She’ll be fine in a few minutes.” Prue exhaled as the woman hustled the boy outside. He stopped crying when she promised to take him to the amusement park before they went home.

  Since Paul had triggered Phoebe’s vision, Prue watched to see where they went. The woman sat the boy on a chair close to the stage and stood beside him to listen to Jefferson’s speech. One of the reporters immediately offered her his seat.

  Satisfied that Paul was safe for the moment, Prue’s gaze swung back to Piper as Phoebe moaned and started to come around. Piper raised her hand, intending to freeze the stubborn young woman at the entrance so she could enter.

  “Piper!” Prue shook her head when Piper tu
rned.

  A smoldering anger simmered in Piper’s brown eyes, but the tension drained away when she saw Phoebe stir. Thumbing over her shoulder, she backed off.

  “What happened?” an old man asked, startling Prue from behind. “Should I call 911?”

  “No,” Prue said a bit too sharply, aware of the many curious stares. She and Phoebe had already attracted too much attention for comfort.

  Phoebe pushed herself into a sitting position and breathed in deeply. She smiled weakly at the old man and rasped, “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “She just needs to rest.” Prue helped Phoebe to her feet and braced her with an arm around her waist. “I’ll handle it.”

  Nodding, the concerned man stepped back as Prue walked Phoebe out of the tent.

  Prue saw Piper pacing by a large tree a short distance behind the audience. As she and Phoebe walked past the seated crowd, she couldn’t help but notice that Noel Jefferson’s serene yet powerful voice had everyone enthralled. Listening to him talk about alternate energy sources and the need to preserve the country’s dwindling wilderness areas for future generations just strengthened her resolve to do whatever was necessary to save him.

  If they discovered the threat before it was too late, she thought with growing apprehension.

  “How is she?” Piper’s gaze mirrored Prue’s worry.

  “The boy.” Phoebe’s voice trembled with panic as she sank to the ground with Piper and Prue. “Where is he?”

  “Listening to the speech,” Prue said.

  Relieved, Phoebe nodded and leaned back against the tree. “Good. Then we have time.”

  “Before what exactly?” Piper asked.

  “And how serious is it?” Prue hated putting pressure on Phoebe in her weakened condition, but they were still no closer to stopping the fulfillment of Tremaine’s wish than they were before. She did not want to think about having to choose between saving the boy or the candidate. “What happens to Paul, Phoebe?”

  “I’m not sure he gets hurt, except for the trauma” — Phoebe shuddered — “when he sees Noel Jefferson fall from the top of the Ferris wheel.”

  Piper inhaled sharply and sat back on her heels.

  Prue stared into Phoebe’s tormented eyes. A bizarre twist of fate had given them the critical information they needed, but the boy’s involvement was a shock. She thought back to Professor Rubin’s explanation about Athulak, wondering if Paul also played a key role in the irreversible and catastrophic consequences that would result from Tremaine’s wish. Would the effects of watching a man fall to his death pervert Paul’s destiny, adding to the harm created when Tremaine was elected and not Noel Jefferson?

  Prue quickly put those disquieting thoughts aside. There would be no chaotic chain of events if Jefferson survived, and that depended on them.

  “I heard Paul’s mom promise to take him to the amusement park,” Prue said. “We’ll just have to stop them from going.”

  “Works for me.” Piper glanced across the park toward the P3 booth. “Jimmy and the girls can take care of things, and Rick decided to stick around in case the booth gets super busy.”

  “I wouldn’t bet money that’s the only reason.” Prue smiled at Phoebe. “He’s smitten with those big brown eyes.”

  “Yeah?” A smile flickered and died on Phoebe’s face as she stood up. Still shaky, she steadied herself with a hand on the tree trunk. “If we’re going to ambush Mr. Jefferson on his way to the amusement park, we should probably get behind the rocks.”

  “What rocks?” Piper asked, confused.

  “I meant get in position,” Phoebe clarified. “I’m not exactly moving at optimum efficiency right now.”

  “Good idea.” Prue rose and dusted off the seat of her pants. “Let’s move out.”

  Piper followed behind Prue and Phoebe as they slowly made their way to an empty picnic table a few hundred yards beyond the stage pavilion. She resisted the impulse to check the surrounding sky. If Athulak attacked, they wouldn’t see him coming. The thought was chilling, and if the circumstances weren’t so dire, she might have appreciated the irony. Of all the grotesque demons, vengeful warlocks, and other malevolent entities they had fought and vanquished, a being made of air might be their undoing.

  “Any idea how long we have to wait?” Piper asked as she slid onto the picnic table bench.

  Phoebe shook her head and swung her legs under the opposite side of the table.

  “Probably not long,” Prue said. She straddled the end of Phoebe’s bench, facing the parking lot. “Paul will be pretty restless after sitting through Jefferson’s speech.”

  “Too bad he’s attached,” Phoebe said with a pointed look at Prue. “Noel Jefferson, I mean. From what I saw, he and Paul’s mom are like that.” She held up crossed fingers.

  “My only interest in Noel Jefferson is saving his life, the kid’s life, and the world,” Prue protested.

  For starters anyway, Piper thought. She looked back toward the pavilion to check on Jefferson. His entourage was forming below the stage, and the audience was dispersing.

  “Heads up,” Piper warned.

  “Any ideas how we’re going to pull off this ambush?” Phoebe asked.

  “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Prue said. “I’m working on it.”

  Piper’s gaze drifted toward the parking lot, her attention diverted by another group of TV news people and reporters, who were following Stephen Tremaine toward the pavilion. As they passed by, Tremaine glanced toward their table, hesitated, and did an abrupt right turn.

  “Incoming,” Piper whispered as the opposition candidate approached. The reporters hung back.

  “Ms. Halliwell?” Tremaine zeroed in on Prue. Unlike Jefferson, who was wearing casual clothes suitable for an outside fair, Tremaine was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and tie with expensive black shoes polished to a mirror shine.

  “Mr. Tremaine.” Prue smiled tightly. “What a surprise.”

  “I’m delighted to see you again as well.” The candidate looked and sounded sincere. “Your editor sent me proofs of the photos you took the other day. I just wanted you to know how pleased I am with the results. Excellent work.”

  “Thank you.” Prue smiled graciously but did not invite further conversation.

  They didn’t have time for a friendly chat, Piper realized when she saw Noel Jefferson’s crowd coming toward them from the other direction.

  Tremaine, however, was in no hurry to leave. He held his hand out to shake Piper’s hand and bumped Phoebe’s shoulder.

  Phoebe’s head snapped up and her eyes rolled back as she slumped over. Piper jumped onto the table and fell on her knees beside her stricken sister.

  “What the —” Tremaine recoiled as Prue threw a protective arm over Phoebe’s back. “Should we call an ambulance?”

  “No, it’s just the heat. Nothing to worry about,” Prue explained hastily. “But it might be better if you leave.”

  Tremaine hesitated, then backed off and waved his people to follow.

  Piper cradled Phoebe’s head, realizing their problems had suddenly become dangerously more complicated. She watched helplessly as Noel Jefferson and company passed by on their way to the amusement park and a deadly ride on the Ferris wheel.

  Beside her, Phoebe writhed in pain.

  * * *

  The mental images assaulted Phoebe with a force as great as the annihilation they foretold. A silent scream reverberated through her head as she saw the beautiful city of San Francisco fast forward into ruin and decay. Lighted windows on downtown buildings went dark and shattered, raining slivers of glass on deserted, torn-up streets. Green leaves withered and fell off trees that smoked and disintegrated into char. Emaciated people stumbled through alleys, deathly quiet and too weak to run.

  She watched in horror as the image of the city receded, giving her a panoramic view. Blanketed in a thick gray haze one second, San Francisco vanished in thunder and a blinding light the next. Then the image cut to bla
ck.

  Tears streamed from Phoebe’s eyes as she emerged from the depths of future Armageddon.

  “Come on, come on . . . ”

  Latching onto Prue’s frantic voice, Phoebe forced herself back to reality. The nausea had become a burning knot, as though her stomach was being eaten away by flaming bile. Sharp pains shot through her head, making it difficult to focus.

  “Phoebe.” Piper gently shook her arm. “What did you see? What happens to Tremaine?”

  Pulse racing and barely able to breathe, Phoebe dug her fingers into Piper’s thigh and raised her head. “He burns with everyone else,” she whispered hoarsely. “Nuclear holocaust.”

  “How?” Prue gasped.

  “Irrelevant.” Phoebe glared at her sisters, drawing strength from the Power of Three that bound them together. “You’re going to stop it by making sure Noel Jefferson lives to get elected.”

  Prue and Piper both looked toward the parking lot, then back at Phoebe, their eyes brimming with worry and indecision.

  “Go!” Phoebe barked.

  “Okay.” Prue ran her hand over Phoebe’s hair as she stood up. “We’re going.”

  Laying her head back down, Phoebe watched her sisters run after the doomed candidate. Tears pooled on the rough wooden surface under her cheek and a shuddering sigh rumbled through her chest. There was nothing more she could do. The fate of the world rested on Prue’s and Piper’s shoulders now.

  “How can one man cause a nuclear holocaust?” Piper asked as she and Prue came to a breathless stop by the Tilt-a-Whirl.

  “Has Phoebe ever been wrong?” Hands on her knees, Prue kept an eye on Jefferson and calmed her ragged breathing. The cameramen, reporters, campaign workers, and Paul’s mom moved off to the side as he stepped into the Ferris wheel line with the boy.