“And what is she wearing?” Piper gasped, pointing at Phoebe’s tightly curled black hair and her flowing Gothic gown. She spotted something else, too—something shiny, yellow, and red—glinting on Phoebe’s ring finger.
Prue clutched the mirror frame as the picture grew hazier and hazier, and finally disappeared entirely. In a moment Prue and Piper were left staring at their own incredulous faces.
“Well, that clinches it,” Piper said. “We know that Phoebe is trapped in Nikos’s castle, and she’s being dressed by someone with really tacky fashion sense.”
“At least she’s okay,” Prue said. She began pacing the living room just as Phoebe had been pacing in the vision. “But that spell is obviously useless at bringing Phoebe back to us!”
“Not to mention our other lost souls,” Piper reminded her, pointing at the pile of sleeping bodies.
Prue threw her hands over her head and stomped in frustration. She glanced around the room desperately and spotted something lying on the floor next to the antique camera. It was the library book on Victorian portraiture that had given her this whole ancient Greek idea in the first place. She’d kept it nearby during the shoot to use as a reference.
Who knows, Prue thought. Maybe if I hadn’t put Nikos in his element in my classical portrait, none of this would have happened.
“Ugggh,” she grunted, stalking across the room. “I wish I’d never seen this stupid book.”
She scooped it into her hands and flung it at the wall. It bounced off the plaster and landed, pages up, on the Oriental rug.
Piper picked the book up, intending to remove it from Prue’s sight. She was about to slam it shut, when something caught her eye.
The book had fallen open to another classical photograph. This one portrayed one man with a full, woolly gray beard, a barrel chest, and his fists on his hips.
“Zeus, lord of Mount Olympus,” the caption read. Piper’s brain started to buzz. She began adding up the puzzle pieces in her mind. Suddenly, an idea came to her.
“Of course!” she exclaimed, rushing over to Prue. “I think I know what’s happening.”
“You do?” Prue said, blinking.
“Did you see that ring on Phoebe’s finger?”
“Yeah,” Prue said. “It looked like a yellow diamond. There might have been rubies on it, too. I thought I saw a flash of red.”
“A diamond ring,” Piper said breathlessly. “An engagement ring.”
“What?” Prue gasped.
“I think Nikos has kidnapped Phoebe to be his bride,” Piper announced. “After all, his father, Hades, did the very same thing. He went up to earth and snatched Persephone, forcing her to become queen of the underworld.”
“That’s right,” Prue said. “But didn’t you tell me she only stays in Hades for half of each year?”
“Yes, because she ate a pomegranate seed while she was there,” Piper said. “For that one morsel of food, she was doomed to spend half of eternity in Hades.”
“Okay, Piper, if you’re trying to give me a confidence boost, it is definitely not working,” Prue scowled.
“I’m not finished,” Piper said excitedly. She stabbed at the photograph in Prue’s library book. “It was Zeus, the king of the heavens and lord of all the gods, who made that decree. He ordered that Persephone had to atone for that one pomegranate seed. But also that she could cut her time in Hades in half.”
“So what you’re saying is . . .” Prue began.
“If Zeus could do it for Persephone, maybe he could do it for Phoebe,” Piper said, slamming the book shut. “Zeus is number one. He has power over his brother Hades and the underworld.”
“So if we contact Zeus . . .”
“And why couldn’t we? We’ve already been to Hades,” Piper interrupted. “So we know Mount Olympus exists.”
“We can ask him to decree that Phoebe be set free!” Prue said.
“All we have to do is figure out how to get up there,” Piper said, grabbing The Book of Shadows from the couch.
“Well, that, and hope that Phoebe hasn’t eaten anything in Hades,” Prue said.
Piper grew pale.
“You’re right,” she agreed.
“And you know how Phoebe likes to eat,” Prue added, going white herself. “She’s a total grazer. She’s always hungry!”
“Let’s just hope,” Piper said, flipping madly through The Book of Shadows, “that the idea of marrying the prince of Hades has killed her appetite.”
Fortunately, The Book of Shadows, which had had no mention of Hades in it, did have a page devoted to Mount Olympus.
“I guess it’s not so surprising,” Piper said, peering at the page. “After all, Mount Olympus has to be a more appealing travel destination than Hades.”
“I don’t know if I’d call this a vacation, but you’re right . . .” Prue said, leaning over Piper’s shoulders. “So what do we have?”
“Potion and incantation,” Piper said, jotting down the potion’s ingredients. “It looks like the sun acts as a sort of portal into Mount Olympus. You can enter only during sunrise and exit at sunset.”
“Okay, that’s doable, I guess,” Prue said. “So how do we get there?”
“Well, here’s the wrinkle,” Piper said, frowning at the page. “It looks like only one of us can go.”
“What?” Prue protested. “Why?”
“Well, the person traveling to Mount Olympus drinks the potion. But someone on earth has to send this person up there, and more importantly, call her back down.”
“So you’re saying the person on earth, at sunset . . .”
“Utters this incantation,” Piper said, pointing to a poem in The Book of Shadows. “That’s what draws her friend on Mount Olympus down through the sunset portal.”
“Okay,” Prue said. “We can do this. All we have to do is—watch out!”
“Wha—” Piper saw her sister’s face contort in horror. She ducked, just in time to feel something zing by her cheek. Piper straightened up in her seat and gaped at the arrow imbedded in the wall near the living room door. She turned to see a figure, more horrible than any of the creatures they’d seen thus far, standing in the kitchen door. Its skin was slimy and yellow, and its hair was, well, it wasn’t hair. It was a nest of writhing, hissing snakes.
The creature drew another arrow from a basket hanging from its shoulder. When it looked down to hook the arrow into its bow, Piper grabbed Prue and yanked her behind the couch.
“What are you doing?” Prue said, trying to wrench herself free of Piper’s grip. “Let’s fight it! We can take it on.”
“Not this one, Prue,” Piper squeaked. “I recognize that creature from Greek mythology. It’s a Gorgon.”
“I give up. What’s a Gorgon?” Prue said as an arrow zinged into the couch, neatly piercing its tapestry upholstery. “Darn it, this couch is an antique!”
“Forget the couch,” Piper breathed. “Have you heard of Medusa? She was a Gorgon. They’re creatures with snakes for hair and a lethal stare. Make eye contact with one and you’ll turn to stone.”
“So either we’re impaled by an arrow or we’re turned to stone?” Prue asked.
“Or we figure out how to vanquish it without looking at it,” Piper said.
“Uch, we don’t have time for this,” Prue said, cringing as another arrow zinged into the couch. “We have to focus on saving Phoebe.”
“I think that’s exactly why a Gorgon has been sent into our living room,” Piper said. “To prevent us from doing just that.”
“Oh no,” Prue groaned. Then a thought flickered across her face. “Wait a minute. The mirror!”
She pointed to the mirror in which they’d seen Phoebe’s image. It hung just over their heads.
“Piper,” Prue said, “Do you think you can freeze the Gorgon without looking at it?”
“No idea,” Piper said. “I’ll give a shot.”
Squeezing her eyes shut with concentration, Piper tried to picture the Gorgon, i
n all its slimy, snaky ugliness. Then she lifted her hands over the back of the couch and waved them.
The grandfather clock stopped ticking. Adust mote floating by Piper’s head suddenly halted in midair.
“It worked,” Piper said.
Prue started to stand up, but Piper grabbed her.
“Even frozen, the Gorgon may be able to turn us to stone,” she whispered. “In the myth of Perseus, Medusa’s head was lethal, even after it was chopped off her body.”
“I’ll be careful,” Prue said. “Cover me.”
Keeping their eyes downcast, Prue and Piper stood up. They could see the Gorgon’s clawed feet, frozen in place on the kitchen tile. Prue crept to the wall and pulled the mirror off its hook. Then, holding the mirror in front of her eyes like a shield, she walked over to the Gorgon. Next, she placed the mirror right in front of the creature’s head. She could see the snakes of its hair, frozen in midhiss around the mirror’s frame.
Then Prue held her breath.
Agonizingly, the seconds ticked by, or rather didn’t tick by. Then, suddenly, time unfroze. The grandfather clock chimed. The breeze outside rustled through the trees. And the Gorgon let out a horrible shriek.
With a wretched, crackling noise, its scaly feet went gray and immobile. The snakes petrified. She tapped at the Gorgon’s toe with her shoe. It was pure rock.
“Prue, that was brilliant,” Piper said, taking the mirror from her sister’s trembling hands. “The first thing the Gorgon saw when it unfroze was its own reflection, instantly making it turn itself into stone.”
Prue lowered the mirror and gazed at the Gorgon. Even as a chunk of rock, it was horrible to behold, especially with its features contorted in pain and revulsion, a moment captured from its last second of life.
“I’d suggest putting it in the garden, but it’s way too ugly for a lawn ornament,” Prue said wryly.
“And it must weigh a ton,” Piper complained, leaning on the horrible sculpture. “How are we ever going to get it out of here?”
“We’ll deal with that later,” Prue said. “Right now, let’s focus on whipping up that potion. At sunrise tomorrow morning, one of us has to head to Mount Olympus.”
An hour later Prue and Piper were in the kitchen, peering at the potion recipe.
“Okay, I think we’ve gathered up all our ingredients,” Prue said. “Lavender stems, thyme, sage, and saffron . . .”
“It would have to be a whole tablespoon of saffron,” Piper complained. “It’s only the most expensive spice ever. And I was planning on making paella next week!”
“Anyway,” Prue said, glaring at Piper, “we’ve also got our red clay, rose thorns, and ugh, scales from a silver fish?”
“Glad I have that salmon in the freezer,” Piper said.
“And last but not least, stone chipped from a sculpture.”
“What a coincidence,” Piper said, grinning at Prue. She opened the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink and burrowed into the toolbox the sisters stored there. She emerged with a hammer and chisel. Then she stalked over to the Gorgon statue, which was still standing— totally in the way—in the kitchen doorway.
Ching!
With one swift whack, Piper whacked one of the stone snakes off the Gorgon’s head. She tossed it across the room to Prue with a cackle.
“Revenge is sweet,” she said. “Okay, what’s next in the recipe?”
“Now we just simmer all this stuff for four hours,” Prue said, squinting at the recipe, “in a base of red wine, water, and . . . song?”
“Hmmm,” Piper said. Then she winked at her sister-and pulled a boom box out of the china hutch.
“A portable CD player,” she said, “is a chef’s best friend.”
Piper sifted through a stack of CDs and popped a Green Day disk into the boom box. Then she plugged it in, hit Play, and placed the stereo next to the stove.
“Thank goodness for auto-replay,” Prue said.
As Piper began measuring and mixing the ingredients in a saucepan, Prue bit her lip.
“You know, we haven’t discussed the most important part,” she said. “As in, which one of us is going up to Mount Olympus?”
“Well, I just assumed you would,” Piper said. “You know, you being the oldest with the most active powers and all. I’ll just stay at home . . . as usual.”
“Actually,” Prue said, “I was thinking just the opposite. You’d be a much greater asset up there negotiating with Zeus.”
“Yeah?” Piper said. She gave a small smile and laid her measuring spoons on the counter. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, there’s your incredible knowledge of Greek mythology, for one,” Prue said. “I mean, I always thought you were a geek in high school. Who knew one day all that knowledge would be the thing to save our family?”
“Uh, thanks,” Piper said, rolling her eyes.
“It’s also probably a good idea for me to stay here in case any other creatures from Hades pop up,” Prue said, wiggling her telekinetic fingers. “I can zap them before they try to harm our sleeping beauties in there.”
“Good call,” Piper said, resuming her measuring. “So it’s settled then. I’ll go up to Mount Olympus.”
As she said it, she felt a thrill shoot through her. She’d always imagined what Mount Olympus must be like when she was a kid, studying mythology in school. It had been a fun fantasy, like wondering what it would be like to fly like Mary Poppins or go back in time like Ebenezer Scrooge.
Now she couldn’t believe she was actually going to go to Mount Olympus. As worried as she was about Phoebe, she also couldn’t wait to venture to the heavens.
“Do you know what this means, Prue?” Piper suddenly said. “Tomorrow I’ll be in heaven and Phoebe will be in hell!”
Prue couldn’t help but snort.
“Oh, I shouldn’t laugh,” she gasped, “but there is some poetic justice in this, don’t you think?”
“Hee, hee!” Piper giggled. Then a sound made her gulp back her laughter.
The doorbell! Piper shot Prue a panicked look.
“Who’s at the door?” Prue squeaked.
“And what if they see our models?” Piper squeaked back. “Here, you go draw the curtain and guard the babes with your life. I’ll go get rid of whoever is at the door.”
“Check,” Prue said. Both sisters ran out of the kitchen. Piper watched Prue zip the curtain across the brass rod, hiding the sunroom—and the sleeping heap of models—inside.
“Madelaine’s snoring again,” Prue whispered. “Whoever it is, don’t let them inside!”
Piper nodded, gulped, and headed into the foyer. Putting on an expression that said, “It’s six o’clock, and don’t you know civilized people are eating dinner,” she swung the door open.
“Mitchell!” she blurted.
There was Prue’s adorable new potential boyfriend, standing on the front porch. Piper couldn’t help noticing how cute his compact, muscular body looked in a French blue shirt and perfectly fitting Levi’s.
Piper heard a gasp from the living room. Prue must have heard her. Piper knew now was the time to get rid of Mitchell, but something made her hesitate.
“Um, hi,” she said, trying to smile normally. “You must have a date with Prue.”
“Yup,” he replied, shuffling his feet on the porch. He’s waiting for me to invite him in, Piper thought. What do I do?
“I managed to get Prue to commit to dinner right before she shoved me out the door yesterday,” Mitchell said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I hope the rest of the shoot went all right?”
“Oh yeah,” Piper said. “It was great! Just . . . dandy. Mitchell . . . can you hold on for a second? I don’t think Prue’s ready yet. Why don’t you sit on the porch and enjoy the fresh air. I’ll be right back.”
Piper whisked the door shut and scurried back into the living room. Prue was clutching at the velvet sunroom curtain. Her other hand was clapped over her mouth.
“I totally forgot I tol
d Mitchell I’d go out with him tonight,” Prue gasped. “I’ll just have to tell him I can’t go.”
Piper could see Prue’s eyes filling with regret. Prue sighed.
“I guess that’ll be it then,” she said. “What guy’s going to tolerate me blowing him off two days in a row? Another relationship killed by the Wiccan life.”
Prue gave another deep sigh and headed for the front door. But Piper held up her hand.
“Wait,” she said. “You know what? We’re paralyzed until sunrise anyway. There’s nothing we can do until I can get to Mount Olympus. And I can handle the potion—I am a chef, after all. Why don’t you just go?”
“Are you kidding?” Prue said. “Phoebe’s in mortal-danger and I’m supposed to go on a date?”
“Hello?” Piper said. “That is a great guy out there. You don’t want to lose him. And, in case you haven’t noticed, it seems like we’re in mortal danger every week. It’ll keep. Just have dinner with him, if only to make sure he’ll ask you out again. I’m giving you a sisterly order.”
“Well, I guess all I’d be doing is sitting here and stewing,” Prue said, biting her lip. “Are you sure you don’t need my help with the potion?”
“It’s cake,” Piper said. “Easier than paella, that’s for sure.”
“Well . . . okay,” Prue said, perking up. She rushed for the stairs. “I’m going to go throw myself together. Tell him I’ll be five minutes. And Piper?”
“Yup?”
“Thank you—you’re the best.”
“You betcha,” Piper said with a wink, feeling both happy for Prue and a little wistful. When’s the last time a guy had shown up on the front porch, pining away for her? With a sigh, Piper went to the kitchen, where she poured Mitchell a cold drink. Then she headed to the front porch.
When she opened the door, Mitchell was sitting on the top step. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door, his eyes filled with hope. His shoulders slumped when he saw that she wasn’t Prue.
“She’s late, as usual,” Piper said, trying not to giggle at the outlandishness of the lie. “Five minutes is all she needs.”
“Oh, great,” Mitchell said, a smile lighting up his face. “For a minute there, I thought Prue was going to brush me off again.”
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