Olga’s face twisted into an ugly, patronizing sneer. Prue felt Ivan stiffen in anger. She sent more thoughts his way. Stay calm. Don’t let her get to you.
“What broke my heart was that Sacha had been cheated out of his inheritance,” Olga continued, her voice rising. “They wasted that violin on you. You never even understood its power. Your family turned their backs on the dark arts, but not mine. Your family wasted their gifts, becoming silly performers. We worked for generations perfecting our magical skills. We deserve that violin. It is wasted in your clumsy hands.”
Prue checked the Loriathian again. It still hadn’t moved, but she could sense its unleashed power. It was biding its time, and Prue knew that was what she must do, too.
She glanced at Sacha. He had remained silent, obviously completely under Olga’s thumb. She wondered if Olga had ever actually cared for him or only for his access to the violin.
Olga’s expression changed. A sly, calculating look appeared in her eyes. “Until now,” she crooned. “Now you have a chance to finally use the violin for its intended purpose—to increase power. You will play that violin and lull the Loriathian, allowing me to take possession of the Romany ruby.”
“Forget it,” Ivan snapped.
“I want that ruby!” Olga shouted. “I refuse to continue to be the poor relation. Once I have my power manifested threefold all of the families will look up to me. And then watch me. I will be unstoppable!”
“I won’t do it,” Ivan declared. “I will not help you.”
He held the violin out to Sacha. “Take it. I give it freely. I want no part of this. You can have the ruby for all I care.”
“No,” Prue protested, shocked by Ivan’s action. “Don’t you see? They shouldn’t have the ruby. They’re dangerous.”
“Shut up,” Olga snarled. “He is doing the right thing. Besides, he cannot fight us. Sacha is Ivan’s nearest relative. All I need to do is kill Ivan and the violin becomes ours.”
“Thanks, brother,” Sacha said, snatching the violin and bow from Ivan. His voice had none of Ivan’s warmth.
“Go, my son,” Olga instructed. “Go and get what’s mine.”
Sacha nodded. He lifted the bow and approached the Loriathian. He began to play.
Rage filled Prue. Every note seemed to send another violent thought through her.
Sacha didn’t play badly; the notes were clear and true. But they triggered horrifying images, and Prue’s whole body shuddered with the evil darkness of the song.
The Loriathian opened its huge mouth and roared. Its tusks burst into position, forming a deadly collar around its massive neck, and it unsheathed its lionlike claws. The Loriathian bellowed in agony, the sound sending shards of energy swirling throughout the astral plane. Its dragon head twitched rhythmically, twitched in time with the song’s meter, Prue noted.
That’s it! Prue’s heart pounded with this new knowledge. They don’t understand, Prue realized. The violin reflects the player’s soul. Sacha has a dark and evil soul. The music won’t soothe the beast—it will stir it up.
The Loriathian lifted its heavy front paw, its claws dripping venom. Ivan was standing right within its reach!
Prue concentrated and sent Ivan hurtling away from the beast. She noticed that on the astral plane, her magical powers manifested themselves as glittering balls of energy, and those glowing orbs pushed Ivan out of range. Once the fireballs accomplished their task, they dissipated into swirling sparks.
The Loriathian roared again. Sacha played more furiously, obviously thinking the violin’s power would kick in. Instead, Ivan’s evil twin was infuriating the beast. Convulsive ripples shuddered through the reptile portion of the Loriathian’s repulsive body, as if Sacha’s playing was making it physically ill. It lifted a gigantic paw again to take a swipe at Sacha.
“No!” Olga shrieked. Then she began to chant quickly in a language Prue didn’t understand. Frantically Olga pulled herbs from a charm bag she wore around her neck and flung them toward the Loriathian. Fireballs formed in front of her, just like the ones Prue’s magic had created. Olga’s chant grew stronger, and she hurled the fireballs at the Loriathian, knocking its paw away from Sacha. He continued to play the violin.
So Olga can also move objects, Prue observed, but her telekinetic ability is different. She has to resort to chants and herbs. Her way takes longer, Prue realized. I have the advantage.
The Loriathian thrashed and moaned, desperate to stop the despicable, torturous music.
I know how it feels, Prue thought. She hated the sick, evil feeling that was growing inside her.
“Why isn’t it working?” Olga shrieked.
In outraged agony, the Loriathian stretched its long dragonlike snout forward, directly over Sacha.
“No!” Olga screamed again.
Still, Sacha kept playing. Prue’s body was rigid with the monstrous anger the music created in her.
Olga chanted again, sending more fireballs to stop the Loriathian from attacking Sacha. Prue channeled the terrible energy of the music and used it to deflect every bit of Olga’s magic.
The fireballs crackled and burst into a spray of sparks as they missed their target. In one ghastly move, the Loriathian swooped down and snatched Sacha up in its gaping, yawning mouth. In two bites, the beast swallowed him whole. Then it spit out the violin as though the instrument had burned its tongue.
“You!” Olga screamed at Prue. The fortune-teller flung herself toward Prue with the power of insane fury.
“Not a chance!” Prue shouted. Violent urges filled Prue’s very essence. Part of her brain knew they were the result of magic, knew that once the music left her she’d be fine. But right now she let loose every ounce of bile and hostility in Olga’s direction.
Right into the path of the Loriathian.
The rampaging beast snatched the woman up and tossed her above its head. Her terrified wails were cut off suddenly when it sank its teeth deep into her. It swallowed her, too.
The Loriathian let out a bellowing roar. The terrible music had infected it completely, taking it over. Its twelve eyes burned with evil fire. The forked tongue flicked toward Prue, who sensed that she’d be its next victim.
“Prue!” Ivan called. “The violin!”
Prue concentrated hard and used her power to pull the instrument away from the creature. Then she sent it through astral space to Ivan.
The Loriathian’s tail thrashed impatiently. It seemed to be preparing to pounce on Prue.
A clear, pure note sent glorious ripples through the astral plane. All twelve eyes of the Loriathian stared at Ivan.
Ivan began to play, the music pulling him closer to Prue. The melody soared and dipped, each variation gently soothing. Prue felt the anger leaving her body in waves.
Gradually, the Loriathian settled down, wrapping its reptilian tail around itself and curling into a ball. It was soon sleeping, its massive sides rising and falling with its deep breaths.
Just beyond the sleeping beast was a spinning gem. It hovered in space, slowly turning. It glowed with inner fire, a deep and rich red.
“The Romany ruby,” Prue murmured.
Ivan and Prue floated in the astral plane, staring at the ruby, allowing themselves to return to a more peaceful state.
“It’s beautiful,” Prue finally said. She glanced at Ivan. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
Ivan shook his head. “I don’t want power. All I’ve ever wanted was my music and my animals. That’s all I need for the kind of power I want.”
Prue smiled, unsurprised by his answer.
Ivan sighed a deep and thoughtful sigh. “And now it is over,” he declared.
“Not quite,” Prue said. “The next question is, how do we get back to our world? It was Olga’s magic that brought us here.”
CHAPTER
18
Ivan gaped at Prue. “You—you don’t know how to get us back?” he stammered.
“Don’t panic,” Prue said, trying not to
panic herself. “I think if I grab onto you and astral project back into my body, we’ll return to our world. I just hope we don’t end up switching bodies or something.”
“That could happen?” Ivan asked.
“No, of course not,” Prue lied. She’d seen all sorts of things happen, but she didn’t want to worry Ivan. He was worried enough.
“Okay, put your arms around me,” she instructed Ivan.
“Gladly,” Ivan said. He embraced her closely.
Even in her astral form, it felt good to be held by him. Prue nestled against his chest and shut her eyes.
“Wait a sec.” Prue pulled herself a few inches away from Ivan. “Too distracting the other way,” she explained. “I have to concentrate.”
Prue felt the familiar surge of energy as her astral form found its way back to her true world body. Keeping her eyes shut, she patted herself up and down. Yup. There’s that goofy clown outfit. She opened her eyes. And there’s Ivan’s handsome face, smiling at me, as he holds up his violin. They were in the equipment trailer, where they had been before their little detour into astral space.
“Well, it’s about time!” Phoebe snapped. “Things have been all crazy here.” She gestured out the window.
Prue glanced outside. “Uh-oh.” Ivan’s animals were frozen in attack positions. Some people were frozen with their hands around each other’s throats, about to deck each other. Others were obviously in screaming matches. “What is going on here?”
“We don’t know. All of a sudden everyone went loco. Mean. The animals went berserk first, and then, well, as you can see, everyone seriously got on everyone else’s nerves.
The music, Prue realized. It broke through from the astral plane. It sent violent thoughts through me, too.
“Are you two all right?” Prue asked her sisters.
Piper and Phoebe looked sheepish. “Well, we were kind of snappy with each other,” Phoebe admitted, “but we had some stuff to concentrate on.”
“Like freezing an entire circus,” Piper complained. “Do you have any idea if they’ll go back to normal once they unfreeze. Or are they still going to be fighting?”
“I know what to do.” Ivan placed the violin under his chin and led the Halliwells out of the trailer. The moment they stepped outside he began to play.
As Ivan’s music filled the air, Prue was once again filled with a calm, peaceful feeling. She took each of her sisters’ hands, and they watched the chaotic scene unfreeze. The animals went back to peaceful poses. The fighting crew members looked startled and apologized to one another. All around her, Prue heard, “I don’t know what came over me.” And “Don’t know what got into me” and “No hard feelings, right?” Within minutes the circus resumed normal activity.
Prue turned to Ivan. “It isn’t the power of the violin alone,” she said. “Sacha had the instrument, and in his hands it was an instrument of destruction. In your hands there is an entirely different effect.”
Ivan smiled. “I have always loved the music of my family. I love to play, and I love to see how my beautiful animals respond.”
“That’s it,” Prue realized. “You put your heart into your playing. That’s the real magic.”
“I need to get ready for my performance,” Ivan apologized. “Thank you. For everything.” He held the violin up high and then wrapped Prue in a warm embrace. Then he kissed her cheek and took off.
All three Halliwells let out long, dreamy sighs as he strode away.
“Omigod!” a shrill voice called out behind her. Prue turned around and saw an astonished Kristin jogging toward her. “You three look soooooo adorable,” Kristin gushed.
Prue glanced down. Oh, right. The costume.
“I am so pleased that you decided to join the Caring Clowns,” Kristin bubbled. “That will make a great ending to the article. Jaded photographer won over by the circus.”
Prue shook her head but didn’t bother to correct Kristin. Of course, she’d have to explain later that this was her first and last appearance as a clown. But for now, she wanted to bask in the warm feeling left by Ivan’s music.
“We’d better go change,” Piper said.
“Yeah, or else Kaboodle will make us rehearse.”
“And I need to hand out my thank-you notes,” Kristin said. “I like the personal touch.” She waved a batch of small envelopes at Prue. Each had a little pink smiley face drawn on it. “See you later,” Kristin called over her shoulder as she marched toward the circus tent.
Phoebe draped her arm over Prue’s shoulders. “You know, Kristin had a good idea. The clowns have one open spot.”
“Yeah,” Piper added, sidling up on Prue’s other side. “Sacha won’t be back for the show. Maybe you’d like to step in for him. You already have a costume.”
Prue smirked at her sisters. “Hah. Not a chance.”
“Well, I still think I want to volunteer for the Caring Clowns,” Piper said, pulling off her mustache.
“Me, too,” Phoebe seconded. “How about it, Prue?”
Prue shook her head. “No way. The one thing this experience has confirmed is what I knew all along.”
“What’s that?” asked Piper.
Prue grinned. “Stay away from clowns!”
About the Author
CARLA JABLONSKI is an actress, director, and writer living in New York City. She is the author of several books in the Adventures of Wishbone series: Homer Sweet Homer (inspired by The Odyssey), The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, 20,000 Wags Under the Sea (based on Jules Verne’s classic), The Scent of the Vampire (an adaptation of Dracula), and Tales of Terror (an anthology of scary stories). For Pocket Books she has written Clueless: Southern Fried Makeover. She has edited books for The Hardy Boys Mystery Stories and R. L. Stine’s Give Yourself Goosebumps, and cocreated the new interactive mystery series, Digital Detectives. Carla Jablonski spent summer 2000 working for the Big Apple Circus in upstate New York, helping the directors ready the show for the new season. She is training on the trapeze for a play she will be doing in spring 2001.
Charmed: The Gypsy Enchantment Page 14