Soul of the Bride

by Elizabeth Lenhard

  “Not a chance,” Piper said, smiling down at him. Then she held out the frosty glass in her hand. “Lemonade?”

  CHAPTER

  8

  Mitchell pulled his SUV up to a curb on a cobblestone-clad little street in downtown San Francisco. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, jumping out of the vehicle to open Prue’s door for her. “I made a reservation for us at this trattoria. I’m practically a regular here. After our Vietnamese adventure, I thought maybe we should try something closer to home.”

  Prue slid out of the SUV and straightened her dress—a pumpkin-colored satin shift with a plunging backline. Then she looked up at the small, quaint sign.

  “Rose of Napoli,” she read. Crusty bread, she thought. Pasta in red sauce with lots of Parmesan cheese. Chianti. In other words—comfort food. Exactly what she needed. She flashed a smile at Mitchell. “It’s like you read my mind.”

  “Perfect,” he said, shooting her one of his adorable grins.

  As they sat down at a small corner table, Prue couldn’t help but think of Phoebe. Her sister was in a place that couldn’t be more different from this cozy restaurant. Even the thought of dinner made Prue feel guilty, as she remembered the curse that eating could mean to her sister.

  When Mitchell ordered a bottle of red wine and poured her a glass, Prue eagerly took a swallow. Anything to distract her from the anxiety gnawing in her belly.

  A bowl of penne primavera and two oversize glasses of wine later, Prue was feeling much more relaxed. In fact, she found herself laughing out loud at Mitchell’s story of his first journalism job.

  “So, the editor asked me, ‘Where did you see this scene in your lead? It’s fantastic,’ ” he was telling Prue. “And I said, ‘Exactly. I made it up.’ ”

  “You what?” Prue gasped, putting a hand over her mouth as she giggled loudly.

  “I was such a rookie, I had no idea that you couldn’t, say, pose a hypothetical,” Mitchell said. “So, she takes me aside and says, ‘This is journalism. You can’t make things up!’ ”

  “I can just see you, all young and earnest and . . . making things up!” Prue said, bursting into more giggles.

  “Yeah, laugh if you will,” Mitchell said. “I almost ended my career before it began.”

  “Well, you seem to have recovered nicely,” Prue said. “I mean, National Geographic. It’s the pinnacle of adventure journalism. Tell me what it’s like, working for them.”

  “How about I tell you over dessert?” Mitchell said, signaling their waiter for the check. “I know just the place . . . ’’

  Half an hour later, Prue found herself staring up at the stars. She turned to Mitchell and smiled. Then she shifted to get into a more comfortable position on the hood of his SUV. They were parked high on a bluff over the Pacific Ocean, lying back on the windshield and gazing into the night sky.

  “This is my favorite place for dessert,” Mitchell said with a shy smile. Then he sat up and peeked into the to-go box from Rose of Napoli.

  “Cannoli or tiramisu?” he asked.

  “Definitely tiramisu,” Prue said with mock seriousness. Mitchell handed her the creamy dessert and a plastic fork. Prue took a bite and groaned.

  “This is the best tiramisu I’ve ever had!” she exclaimed.

  “Take a taste of this,” Mitchell offered, holding out the cannoli. “You’ll think you died and went to Sicily.”

  Prue laughed and took a bite of the crunchy dessert.

  “Oh my God, you weren’t kidding,” she said, laughing. Then she shook her head in amazement. “I’m having such a nice time with you. It’s hard to believe that—”

  Prue stopped herself abruptly. She’d felt so comfortable with Mitchell, she’d almost spilled the beans about Phoebe. Which, of course, would reveal to Mitchell that she was a witch. Which would, of course, kill any chance she had of a relationship with him. Prue’s smile melted away and she glanced down at her hands.

  While she was brooding, Mitchell slipped off the hood of the SUV. A minute later he reappeared in front of the truck, holding a camera. Prue was startled out of her reverie. She blinked at Mitchell.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

  “You just looked so beautiful sitting there, staring at the stars,” Mitchell said, looking sheepish. “And then I remembered I had my camera in the trunk.”

  “Oh,” Prue said. She shook her head. What’s the big deal, so he wants to snap your picture, she tried to tell herself. But something inside her was squirming.

  “I . . . I don’t think I want to be photographed,” Prue said, ducking her head. “I’m sure I look a mess. It’s breezy up here.”

  “Oh, are you one of those photographers who can dish it out but can’t take it?” Mitchell teased. He lifted his camera to his eye. “C’mon, just one snap.”

  “Don’t,” Prue said. She tried to sound jovial, but she was fighting down a bubble of panic rising within her. Her face felt hot and there was a buzzing in her ears.

  “Smile. Please, Prue,” Mitchell said insistently, holding the camera before his face.

  “No!” Prue said, sliding off the SUV abruptly. I can’t do this anymore, she thought to herself. My sister’s life hangs in the balance and I’m having a romantic moment under the stars? What kind of a horrible person am I? Home—gotta get home.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Prue stuttered, cringing at the shock on Mitchell’s face. She slumped against the truck and quickly thought up a lie. “I’m . . . I’m really stressed about my work right now. And when you pulled out that camera, it all came flooding back.”

  “Oh, man,” Mitchell said, walking over to Prue and hooking the camera over his shoulder by its strap. “I’ve ruined everything. I wanted to take you away from your work worries, not remind you of them.”

  Mitchell wrapped his strong arms around Prue in a gentle hug. She bit her lip, feeling a stab of guilt about her lie. Although, if she thought about it, she was stressed about her work. It just wasn’t the profession that Mitchell knew about.

  “Listen, what can I do to make you forget your troubles?” Mitchell asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Prue replied. “But you know what? There’s nothing either of us can do. I had such a great time tonight, but now I think I’d better get home.”

  “Of course,” Mitchell said. “I understand.”

  But he didn’t move. His hands rested warmly on the back of her neck. He began massaging her tense muscles. And, despite herself, Prue felt herself leaning into him.

  Mitchell’s hands moved down her back, softly touching her bare skin. Prue sighed very quietly. And before she knew it, Mitchell’s lips were covering hers in a soft, warm kiss. Before Prue could stop herself, she was sinking deeply into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Mitchell was kissing her neck, her earlobes and then her lips again. His kisses were more passionate, more insistent. Prue responded, kiss for kiss. And suddenly, she didn’t want to go home anymore. She wanted to stay here under the stars, with Mitchell, forever.

  He pulled away for a moment and touched the tip of her nose with his, gazing deeply into her eyes.

  “Oh, Prue,” he whispered. “I’m in heaven.”

  Heaven . . . Mount Olympus . . . It all came flooding back. What’s wrong with me? Prue thought suddenly. Here I was, all ready to go home and deal, and one kiss later, I’m flaking out on my sisters.

  “I’ve . . . I’ve gotta go,” Prue replied regretfully.

  Mitchell breathed deeply, regretfully, and nodded. Then he opened up the SUV for Prue and helped her into it.

  In a short while, they were parked in front of her house.

  “Mitchell, I’m sorry if I sent you mixed signals tonight,” Prue said, reaching up to smooth back his soft brown hair. “I . . . I really did have a wonderful time. It’s just that I have stuff I need to take care of.”

  “Well, do you think you’ll find relief enough in your busy schedule to go out with me again?�
�� he asked, gazing at her with his huge gray-green eyes.

  “Oh yes,” she replied. “I mean . . . I hope. I mean, I’ll call you, okay?”

  Mitchell looked deep into Prue’s eyes, as if he was trying to read her sincerity. She wished she could be less cagey. Planting one more quick kiss on his soft lips, she quickly opened the car door and trotted up the front walk. She turned and waved before she stepped through the front door.

  Once inside, Prue leaned against the front door and tried to sort out her thoughts. For some reason, she felt just as anxious about making things work with Mitchell as she did about rescuing Phoebe. She shook her head—what was wrong with her? She barely knew Mitchell. And nothing was more important than getting her sister back safe.

  “It must be all that Chianti I had at dinner,” Prue said, shaking her head again. She stalked to the kitchen, eyeing the bottle of potion, corked and ready, on the counter.

  After pouring herself a big glass of water, Prue popped a couple of aspirin and went to her room. She set her alarm clock for 4:30 A.M.—a half hour before sunrise—and flopped into bed. Almost immediately, she fell into a fitful slumber.

  The next morning Piper slumped into the kitchen while it was still dark out. She was dressed in leggings and a soft, comfortable cotton top. She was tying on running shoes when Prue came into the kitchen.

  “Planning for an athletic event up there?” Prue said, cocking a puffy eye at Piper’s getup.

  “Who knows, after Hades,” Piper said, rolling her eyes. “I just want to be ready for anything.”

  “Smart move,” Prue said. “Me, I’m ready for coffee.”

  “Made you a whole pot,” Piper said, pointing to the coffee machine in the corner. “You’ve got a long day of waiting ahead of you.”

  “Yeah, well that’s nothing compared to what’s in store for you,” Prue said worriedly. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m excited actually,” Piper admitted. “Mount Olympus! Not many mortals ever get the chance to see the likes of this.”

  “Well, get ready to grab that chance,” Prue said, squinting out the kitchen window. “Because I can see the first hint of light. I’d say sunrise is about five minutes away.”

  “Wow,” Piper said, peering out the window with her sister. “I can’t remember the last time I was awake for the sunrise.”

  “I think it was Christmas morning, 1979,” Prue joked.

  Piper had to laugh. Then she gave Prue a quick hug. “We can do this,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

  “I know,” Prue said, blinking a tear away. She handed Piper the potion and grabbed the incantation she’d copied from The Book of Shadows.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Piper said, taking a deep breath.

  Prue squinted at the paper in her hand and began to read.

  “ ‘To the heavens, take this traveler, As the sun rises, the sky shall have her. One day she’ll walk among the clouds. Protect her with heaven’s benevolent shroud.’ ”

  As Prue read, Piper uncorked the potion. She held her nose and slugged it back in two big swallows.

  Then Prue stared in amazement as Piper began to fade from view. Piper stared back and gave a little wave. Then she dissolved into a shaft of light that shot through the ceiling and disappeared.

  Prue stumbled out onto the back porch and looked into the sky, which was just turning pink with the first rays of the sun.

  “Good luck, Piper,” she whispered. Then she went inside for the long wait.

  Piper gasped as she felt herself becoming corporeal once again. She wasn’t sure where she’d gone when she shimmered out of the kitchen, or how long she’d been traveling. But as she watched her hands graduate from wispy apparitions to solid wiggling fingers, she knew—or at least hoped—she’d arrived on Mount Olympus.

  Quickly, she gazed around her. Then she blinked. Okay, this wasn’t what I expected, she thought. Clouds, winged creatures, and lots of Corinthian columns, maybe. But this? What is this?

  She was standing—scratch that, she was floating — in a sort of swirling silver bubble. The walls looked as if they were made of mercury. Even stranger, the bubble felt warm and soft and enveloping, though it looked cold and metallic.

  Piper looked down and gasped again. Her pragmatic leggings and running shoes had been replaced by a sleek body suit with the same silvery cast as her surroundings. She took a tentative step, even though her feet seemed to have nothing to grip onto. But somehow, she felt herself moving through the bubble.

  “Okay, we have movement,” Piper whispered. “The question is, where am I moving to? Whoa!”

  Suddenly, Piper felt the bubble open beneath her, stretching into a long, narrow tunnel. She plummeted into the hole, and with nothing to grab onto, felt herself sliding through the chute at warp speed.

  “Aaaaahhhh!” Piper screamed. And then, to her surprise, she started laughing wildly. Because . . . this was fun! After the initial shock of her fall, she realized she felt as if she was whizzing through a warm, totally thrilling waterslide. She almost didn’t want the wild ride to end.

  But of course, it did. Piper found herself ejected from the tunnel and deposited into a new room. Instead of a mercurylike bubble, this room was wispy, cottony, not quite there. Piper got to her feet and looked around.

  “Welcome.”

  Piper jumped and spun around. But she saw no one. The room, or whatever she was standing in, was empty.

  “Hello?” she called nervously.

  “You are Piper Halliwell,” the voice said. It was a woman’s voice, soothing and mellifluous, almost musical.

  “Okay, this is giving me the creeps,” Piper muttered. Not only because this voice knew her name, but because she felt as if the voice was speaking from inside her own head.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the woman said.

  For some reason, Piper was able to obey. She relaxed. She let her guard down. She felt safe.

  “Um,” she began, “I’m here to—”

  “See Zeus,” the voice finished for her.

  “Well, yes!” Piper exclaimed. “You see, I—”

  “Have a sister who is in danger,” the voice continued. “No need to continue. I can read your mind.”

  “Oh,” Piper said, feeling the creeps reenter her system. She pulled at the tight neck of her silver bodysuit nervously.

  “Your clothing makes you uncomfortable,” the voice said. “No problem. You don’t need it any longer. You passed the first test and emerged from the antechamber.”

  “Test?” Piper asked the air. “What do you mean?” Then she gasped as her silver bodysuit disappeared and was replaced, not by her original outfit, but by a long filmy gown, as warm and supple as anything she’d ever worn. The dress was the most beautiful, shimmery pale blue.

  “Not just anybody can make it into Mount Olympus,” the voice said. “Surely you know that.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” Piper said. “But how did I pass the test? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Purity of spirit,” the voice said. “Honesty. True need. We scanned you for them.”

  “Scanned me?” Piper said. “Okay, this is starting to sound like a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. What next?”

  “More tests,” the voice said. “You will walk through a series of portals. Should you be judged worthy, you will see Zeus.”

  “Ohhh,” Piper said nervously.

  “Do not be afraid,” the voice said again. “Just keep walking.”

  Piper took a deep breath and did as the voice told her. She walked and found herself squelching through the wall of the wispy chamber. It was even warmer and softer than her beautiful dress. The next thing she knew, she was in a room filled with water. At first Piper panicked and spun around to get back to where she had come from. She opened her mouth to scream. But that’s when she realized, she could breathe. She was breathing water.

  Grinning with delight, Piper swam through the chamber, doing a few somersaults and deep dives before
she found herself sucked into the next chamber. This room had opalescent walls and was filled with soft shafts of pastel-colored light. Piper sighed with delight and found herself wondering if she could recreate such an effect at P3.

  Next, another portal yawned open beneath her. Piper dropped through it and let herself slide through a tunnel. This trip was shorter and calmer, but the landing—the landing was out of this world.

  Because waiting for her at the bottom of the tunnel was an enormous man. He must have been seven feet tall, with an imposing build. His broad shoulders were draped with a long, soft, pale gray robe. The man’s hair was the same beautiful gray color as his garment, and it draped across down his back in soft waves.

  “Zeus,” Piper whispered. This had to be him. He too, was not what she’d expected. All the sculptures and paintings she’d seen depicted a mischievous, tunic-clad, bearded patriarch. Instead, this man felt both comforting and frightening, as powerful a being as Piper had ever seen.

  “Indeed,” Zeus said to Piper. “Come with me.”

  In a blink, Piper found herself seated in front of the god in a room that was all white. Mist swirled around them, and beyond the mist, Piper could make out a circle of attendants, young men and women in gowns and tunics much like her own. She sat on a shapeless but incredibly comfortable cushion, just like Zeus’s.

  “Tell me,” Zeus said simply, placing an enormous hand on each of his knees.

  Quickly and tactfully (after all, Nikos was technically Zeus’s nephew), Piper explained everything that had happened from the moment Nikos brought his magical camera into their house.

  “I’m afraid that Nikos wants to marry my sister, just the way Hades married Persephone,” Piper said. “But please, Zeus, we’re witches destined to protect innocents. And without the Power of Three, we’re useless.”

  “You know our history?” Zeus asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “So you know what doomed Persephone?”

  “Eating a pomegranate seed,” Piper answered.

  “Has your sister taken any food in Hades?” Zeus quizzed.