The War on Witches

by Paul Ruditis

  “I need someone to sign for these,” the delivery guy said as he placed a pair of boxes on the bar. He wore a uniform shirt with a logo that read The Graphix Is In.

  “The new menus?” Piper asked as she signed the electronic clipboard he held out to her. The name of the company she worked with was lame, but there was no question that they did an amazing job. Piper updated Halliwell’s menu seasonally, and the design company had always given each piece a completely unique look that still managed to blend with the overall design scheme of the restaurant.

  “The revised printing,” he replied. “We’ve addressed all the errors the manager caught before signing off on them.”

  “But I . . . ? Oh, you mean Paige,” Piper said. “She’s not the manager, but she did have approval to sign off on the menus. I’m sure they look great. Thanks!”

  The delivery guy tipped an invisible hat to her and made his way out of the restaurant. Piper pulled a knife from under the bar and moved to open the first box when she realized Jackson was still watching her. “What?”

  “I can’t work under these conditions,” the line cook said. “Chef is a tyrant who refuses to accept that I know more about cooking than she does. And your sister knows absolutely nothing about the restaurant industry. I can’t be expected to work with amateurs. I left a prominent position in a five-star restaurant to try out this little mom-and-pop experiment you’ve got going here. I get calls daily asking for me to return.”

  “Then by all means, feel free to do that,” Piper said.

  “Excuse me?”

  Piper sliced open the box. “Go. Don’t let me stop you. Consider Halliwell’s the latest entry on your résumé. I wouldn’t suggest listing me as a reference. Or Chef. Paige might consider it if you ask her nicely.”

  “But—”

  Piper raised the knife, casually waving it between them as she spoke. “Jackson, you’ve been an instigator in my kitchen since the day you arrived. I had hoped things would settle down in my absence, but they haven’t. It’s time to chalk this up to a learning experience and go on your way. I’ll e-mail you details on any kind of severance, but right now I’d really like to not see you here.”

  Jackson huffed and stomped off toward the kitchen. Piper knew that she should have consulted with her chef first. She’d hired the woman to take control of her kitchen for the day-to-day stuff when Piper was bogged down in the minutia of management or off battling demons. The kitchen was Chef’s domain when Piper wasn’t around, but Piper doubted there would be any problem with the decision.

  She focused on the menus instead. Paige had done a great job overseeing the printing. They looked great. Especially the bonus surprise she’d cooked up. She couldn’t wait for the rest of the family to see it.

  “Nice,” Phoebe said suddenly from over her shoulder.

  “Gah!” Piper nearly dropped the menu as she spun around to find Phoebe and Cole behind her. “What’s with you two? You don’t just go popping up behind someone like that. I was holding a knife a second ago. I could have killed you.”

  “Eh, I could hold off a knife attack. Besides, if anything happened Paige would have just orbed in to heal me,” Phoebe said.

  “Already dead,” Cole added with a shrug.

  Phoebe pulled the menu from Piper’s hand. “This looks good. Prue’s going to love it. Did they just come in?”

  “Just now,” Piper said. “I don’t know what Paige was complaining about. Everything’s running smoothly. The way Paige was talking, I expected the place to be falling apart.”

  “Things do look good.” Phoebe handed the menu back to Piper. “I think maybe Paige was the one falling apart.”

  Piper put it on top of the box with the rest of the menus. “Yeah, well, if I ever want to go on a vacation, I know who I’m going to call.”

  “Vacation?” Paige said as she orbed in behind the bar. “What do you call the week you just spent on the other side of the world?”

  Piper slammed her hand down on the bar. “Seriously! You all have to stop popping into my restaurant in the middle of a workday. Someone could see you.”

  “It’s not like you’re open. You’ve got . . .” Paige checked her watch. “Oh. You should be getting ready to open.”

  As if on cue, the wait staff came piling out of the kitchen, greeting Paige as if they were old friends. Piper waited patiently while they caught up even though they’d seen her only yesterday.

  “We should move this to the office.” Piper led them out of the way of her staff once the pleasantries had been exchanged. “It’s small, but we won’t be in the way. Also, it’s the perfect place to suddenly materialize and dematerialize without being noticed.”

  “Okay,” Phoebe said. “We got the message.”

  As they walked to the office, Jackson came storming out of the kitchen with a bag in his hands. Piper knew all too well that it was his personal kitchen utensils. She should have taken it as a sign when—on his first day at Halliwell’s—he proceeded to list all the problems he had with every item in the kitchen. It wasn’t unusual for kitchen staff to have their personal preferences when it came to the tools of the trade. But he didn’t need to make a production out of it.

  “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he said in place of farewell and stormed out of the restaurant.

  “What was that about?” Paige asked.

  “Jackson is no longer an employee of Halliwell’s,” Piper said.

  “Really? You’re not just messing with me?” Paige asked.

  “He’s been a problem since day one,” Piper said. “I should have terminated him long ago. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t fire him.”

  “Wait a minute,” Paige said. “I can fire people?”

  Piper unlocked her office door. “Of course. Like I said when I asked you to fill in, you’re me when I’m not here. You can do what you want. Honestly, you’re doing everything that I’d do. I really appreciate your help. It’s nice to know you’ve got this place under control while I’m with Prue.”

  “About that,” Paige said. “We should talk.”

  “Yes,” Piper said as she ushered them into the small room. “I want to hear all about what you two came up with.”

  “No,” Paige said as she filed in and leaned against Piper’s desk. “I mean the part about you spending all that time with Prue.”

  “Later,” Piper said, closing the door to the tight quarters. “I want to know what you found out.” Piper waited for Paige to speak, but her sister just crossed her arms and stared.

  Phoebe looked at her sisters, shrugged, and broke the silence. “There’s no such thing as the Book of Light.”

  Piper turned to Phoebe. “What?”

  Paige let out a melodramatic sigh. “That actually makes sense. Because the magical herbs they’ve been using? The stuff that smells like oregano? You might be surprised to learn that it’s oregano.”

  “And?” Piper had to shift so she didn’t step on Paige’s toes.

  “And more oregano,” Paige said. “It’s not a magical anything. It’s just oregano.”

  “Oregano doesn’t sparkle,” Piper said. “I know. I use enough of it in my recipes.”

  Paige slid to the edge of the desk to avoid being impaled by Piper’s elbow. “Glitter. It’s oregano mixed with glitter.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Piper said. “We have a book of magic that’s not a book of magic and an herb concoction that doesn’t do anything. Then how are these witches losing their powers?”

  “A very good question,” Phoebe said as Cole pushed into her.

  “Can we move this conversation elsewhere?” Cole asked.

  “In a minute,” Piper said. “I’m trying to figure this out. Why are these people going around and lying about what they’re using? It doesn’t make sense. And if they’re regular mortals then where is their po
wer coming from? If it’s not the book—”

  “It could be the book,” Cole said.

  Piper shook her head in confusion. “But Phoebe said—”

  “There’s no such thing as a Book of Light,” Phoebe repeated. “At least, not a spell book called the Book of Light.”

  “And we know this how?” Piper asked.

  “Long story,” Phoebe and Cole said in unison.

  “We think the book is something else,” Phoebe said. “Something new.”

  “And the oregano?” Paige asked.

  “It’s for show,” Cole said.

  All three sisters looked at him.

  “Think about it,” he said. “We’ve got a book that’s not what it’s supposed to be. We have these so-called magical herbs that supposedly possess power they don’t possess. And we have a few misguided mortals who think they’re ridding the world of witches for the good of all mankind. If those aren’t the ingredients for some kind of mystical con, I don’t know what is.”

  “Okay, then,” Piper said. “If that’s the con, then who’s the con artist?”

  Chapter 14

  Austin checked his watch for the twelfth time since they’d arrived outside the clearing in the woods. It was almost magic time in every sense of the phrase. According to the weather app on his phone, the sun would officially set in two minutes—“the twilight hour,” as Isaac had announced ominously, as if Austin had never heard it called that before.

  Austin still wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He wasn’t a true believer like the rest of these followers. He didn’t know anything about this supposed “calling” that had passed down to him through generations. He barely knew his own parents. And he still wasn’t all that sure that witches were real. The girl at the museum didn’t do anything witch-like. Not that he could even begin to guess what it was that witches did.

  It was feeling more and more like he was part of a cult. And not the benevolent kind of cult that Isaac kept insisting they were. They might not be using evil powers like the witches—if that was even true—but their actions weren’t exactly benevolent. Skulking around the woods at nightfall and preparing to attack a coven of witches wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

  “I thought we had a job to do,” Austin whispered to Isaac. “Something that didn’t involve me taking magic away from witches?”

  “We do,” Isaac said. “You are merely here to witness the beginnings of a new world—one in which witchcraft comes to an end and a new power rises.”

  “New power?” Austin asked. That didn’t sound like what everyone else here was talking about. Not by a long shot.

  “Our people are in position,” Emily whispered before Isaac could elaborate on his comment. “Are you sure doing this while there’s still sunlight is safe? Wouldn’t it be better to wait till it’s fully dark?”

  Isaac hit her with a glare that he usually reserved for Austin. “As I’ve explained, the twilight hour is when these witches will be at their weakest. They will grow more powerful as the time approaches midnight. The longer we wait, the more likely you will fail. And I do not need to tell you what the witches will do to you if you fail, do I?”

  “No,” Emily said as she backed away. “Sorry.”

  Emily wasn’t the type to be easily unnerved, which made Austin even more concerned about the sway Isaac had over these people. He watched her as she slinked off, stepping carefully so she didn’t rustle any leaves or snap a twig. Austin considered doing either of those things or anything else he could to give the witches some kind of sign they were in danger. If the coven were on alert, maybe Isaac would put an end to this plan. At the very least, he might postpone the attack. Austin would welcome any delay as a chance to get out of whatever he’d gotten himself into.

  “For someone who hates magic, you sure know a lot about it,” Austin said, testing the waters. If he got Isaac riled up, maybe he would make some kind of noise that would call attention to them. Austin was afraid of being the one to blame. Isaac had too many followers out in the woods with them.

  Isaac smiled his unnerving smile. “This is what I meant earlier when I applauded you for your inquisitive nature. It will serve you well in the future. For now, though, you are not here to question. You are here to watch.”

  “So, shut up?” Austin asked.

  The glare he’d become so familiar with was the only answer he received.

  Austin checked his watch once again in the fading light. It was almost showtime. He walked toward the clearing for a better look, moving just as carefully as Emily had. Tempting as it was to alert the witches, he didn’t forget that Isaac still had his gun. Austin didn’t believe for a second Isaac’s lie about the weapon carrying blanks. If Austin blew this one, there was no doubt in his mind that his body would be the only evidence left behind.

  Austin held tight to the tree trunk he’d taken position behind. Six women in flowing white dresses stood in a circle in the clearing. Isaac had explained they were preparing a ritual to welcome a new child into their coven. One of their sisters was having a difficult pregnancy. She was home on bed rest while the others planned to spend the hours until midnight chanting to whatever false goddess they believed in to heal the child and allow for an uncomplicated birth.

  It sounded to Austin like they were doing something nice. But Isaac had emphasized to the others how it was all about adding strength to their coven. Even a newborn witch was just as dangerous to humans as the fully grown ones. The crowd had eaten it up, building in rage until the church shook on its foundation. Austin worried their next plan would be to light some torches and march on the pregnant woman’s house.

  But Isaac was smarter than that. Austin couldn’t help but notice their leader had never mentioned going after the mother in his rousing speech in the early morning hours. Even Emily, the most intense believer among them, might have some problem attacking a woman with child.

  Not that the women in the clearing looked any more dangerous. They were a diverse group, but none of them matched the extremes Isaac described when he drew inspiration from the history of witches portrayed in media. These women weren’t haggard crones or femmes fatales. Even in their flowing white dresses, they seemed like anyone Austin could meet on the street. They could very easily be normal people with full lives outside of their craft.

  It was that thought Austin clung to as the sun continued to fade from the sky. Stealing the magic from these women might not destroy their lives at all. It was only one facet of who they were. That was a small comfort, but it was all he could come up with to justify what was about to happen.

  Austin didn’t need to consult his watch to know the sun had finally set. The witches began chanting in unison as if they were attuned to the moment twilight began.

  Isaac’s people made their move a moment later.

  As the witches chanted, their own voices worked to cover the sound of their attackers’ approach. Six people stepped out from the trees with their Books of Light already open, adding their own chants to the chorus. Austin knew there were six others hidden in the woods behind them, in case any of the witches made a run for it.

  By the time the witches realized they were not alone, it was too late. They weren’t running anywhere. They were frozen in place. Six bottles of herbs were thrown over the women. Six witches fell to the ground.

  All the while, Isaac stood beside him, eyes closed, gently moaning like he had done on the train. It was an eerie keening sound that echoed the chanting around them. Or maybe the chanting echoed the moans?

  Austin thought it might be time to run. Isaac’s eyes were closed. Everyone else was preoccupied with the attack. But run where? He was in the middle of the woods at sunset in a state he’d never visited before. Even if he could find the road again on his own, he was miles away from civilization. He didn’t even know which direction to take, and darkness was continuing to fall.
>
  The moment passed when he was distracted by the different colors of light rising out of the bodies of the unconscious witches. Each of the books absorbed those lights, pulling the last bit of power from the women. Austin was watching magic—real magic—right before his eyes.

  It was mesmerizing. He wondered what, exactly, he was looking at. Was it their auras? Did the magic run through their blood? What was this odd colored light being absorbed into the books?

  Austin jumped as the six books slammed shut once the last glimmer of light was inside them. Shouts of joy came from the six attackers as they raised their books in celebration. The other six followers came from the trees with their own books, adding their voices to the mix.

  The loudest voice soon belonged to Isaac, whose eyes were now open and mouth was split into a sickening smile. “Nice work, everyone!” he shouted, bringing a hush to the clearing. “We have dealt the witches quite a blow this evening. But it is only one victory in a war that, I assure you, will not be as easy as this. Let’s save the celebrations and move on to your next targets. We must strike quickly before the witches can rally their forces. Before news of our work reaches the Charmed Ones.”

  Mumbles of concern grew from the group at the last part. Austin had no idea what Isaac was talking about. Charmed Ones? Who were they? And why did everyone else seem to know about them already?

  Emily kicked one of the unconscious women on the ground. “What should we do with these witches?”

  Austin tensed. He did not like the look in some of their eyes.

  “Leave them,” Isaac said. “They are of no use to us now. Remember, we want to keep the public on our side. We can’t do that by harming people. Even if they are witches. No hangings. No burnings. Nothing to turn public opinion against us. We are in this for the long haul. Now leave the books that have been used here with Austin. Their power has been depleted and they will be useless to you.”