by Paul Ruditis
“But isn’t a warlock just another name for a male witch?” Austin asked.
“You’re confusing mythologies,” Isaac said. “Or you watch too much classic television. No, a warlock is similar to a witch, but somewhat different. They are unnatural enemies.”
“So warlocks are good?” Austin asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
“Depends on who you ask.”
They stared at one another. Austin examined Isaac, looking for some clue to the demon inside him, but only seeing the man. He didn’t want to trigger a return of the creature, but he didn’t even know if that was a concern. Did the demon force itself out of Isaac’s body? Or could Isaac control it, like flicking a switch?
“I have a million questions,” Austin finally said. “Will you answer any of them?”
Isaac motioned to the newest stack of books. “Follow me with those Books of Light and I’ll consider what I want you to know.”
Austin looked at the books. The idea of helping a demon sickened Austin even more, but it was the easiest way to find out more about warlocks and what it meant to be one. It would also help stall Isaac while Austin came up with some kind of plan to escape. It was possible that warlocks were more powerful than demons. If Austin could figure out how to use his power, he could possibly take out Isaac before the demon became a threat again.
“How long have you known I was a warlock?” Austin asked as he reluctantly picked up four of the books. “Since you read my college application essay?”
Isaac laughed as he waved for Austin to follow him. “I knew who you were before you wrote that stupid essay. Discovering you was what led to my plan. This whole thing is really thanks to you, Austin.”
“You’re welcome.”
Isaac glanced back at Austin as he opened the double doors leading to the church. “I appreciate people who can maintain their sense of humor when their world is falling apart. That trait will serve you well should you have a future.”
Austin glared at Isaac as he followed him out to the pulpit. “Then you’ve been planning this for—”
“Years,” Isaac said. “It took time to get all the pieces in place.”
“Why not just tell me I was a warlock and teach me to use my powers? You could have set up a video camera at any time. You didn’t need to involve Alysha. And what’s with these books anyway?”
“I had to play things close to the vest,” Isaac said, stopping him at the altar. “Couldn’t risk anyone knowing what I was up to. And I don’t have the time for magic lessons—I needed you to activate your powers when the time was right. The best way to do that was to force it out of you.”
“Why?”
“You’re special,” Isaac said.
Austin still felt queasy as he looked out at the empty church. Even if he had called out for help earlier, it wouldn’t have mattered. They were alone in the building.
“So my parents were warlocks too?” Austin asked. “Not some innocent humans killed by a witch?”
Isaac held up a hand. “One moment, please.”
The pile of books was starting to get heavy, but Austin didn’t complain as he watched Isaac raise his arms in front of him, turning his hands so the palms faced up. Isaac’s eyes flashed as all the pews in the church disappeared.
“Much better,” Isaac said. “Where were we?”
“My parents. The witch that supposedly killed them.”
“Oh, yes,” Isaac said as he walked toward the back of the church. “Your father was a warlock. Your mother? Just a weak mortal who married the wrong man. And yes, a witch did kill them. I just left out the part where the witch was defending herself because your father was trying to kill her first. You see, there’s nothing warlocks enjoy more than collecting the powers of witches.”
“Like we’re doing?” Austin asked as he followed him across the now-empty nave.
“Exactly as we’re doing.” Isaac opened a door at the back of the church. It was some kind of small storage room filled with wooden pedestals. They looked like music stands. Isaac stepped into the dark room and emerged with two pedestals in each of his hands.
“So why not team up with warlocks? Why go to all this trouble?”
“Who said I wasn’t working with warlocks?” Isaac said as he walked to the front of the church. “Although I wouldn’t consider it a ‘team-up.’ Neither would they.”
“Then if you’ve already got warlocks on your side, why me? I don’t even know what to call the power I have.”
“I don’t care about your power,” Isaac said, placing a pedestal on the floor several feet in front of the altar. “I care about you . . . your line.”
“My line?” Austin asked. “What line? I don’t have any relatives on my father’s side.”
“Exactly,” Isaac said. “You’re the last. Not even one of those distant cousins I mentioned earlier.”
Isaac indicated that Austin should put one of the books down on the pedestal that he’d just positioned. It took some maneuvering, but Austin was able to slide the bottom book out of the pile and rest it on the stand. Isaac then motioned for Austin to open the book. He did as instructed. It didn’t seem to matter which page he opened it to. The red writing meant nothing to Austin; it didn’t even look like a recognizable language. He wondered when Isaac had trained the others to read that language. Austin had received no such lessons, but then Isaac had already said that he wasn’t much for teaching.
But Austin’s mind wasn’t really focused on the books. There was something nagging him. Something about families. It didn’t take long to make the connection. “Are you telling me that there was a warlock on the jury in the Salem witch trials?”
“Close,” Isaac said as he put down the next pedestal. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Austin Herrick.”
Austin placed the book on the second pedestal. “Am I supposed to understand why you’re saying my last name like that?”
Isaac positioned the next stand. “Well, now, that’s another little surprise. You don’t actually descend from the family of the jurist that condemned all those witches to death.”
“You faked those genealogical charts you showed me?” Austin dropped off the next book. “But how? I don’t know much about my dad’s family, but I know the name goes back centuries.”
“Indeed it does,” Isaac said as he placed the fourth stand. “It is an old, old family. And many centuries ago the head of that family took in an orphaned child. He gave the child his name. You happen to descend from that very child.”
Austin held tight to the last book in his arms. “You’re saying a member of the jury that tried and convicted women for witchcraft adopted a baby warlock?”
Isaac laughed. “Not knowingly. The misguided fool thought he was taking in the child of a friend. The child of a man killed by the only true witch ever burned during the Salem witch trials. You are the last living descendant of the warlock who caused that witch to be condemned to her death. You are the great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson of Matthew Tate, the one warlock inextricably tied to the most powerful line of witches the world has ever seen. His blood runs through your veins. And that is exactly what I need to battle the Charmed Ones.”
Chapter 17
Paige orbed into Prue’s home on the Nexus and had to steady herself to stay on her feet. Orbing with her sisters and an extra passenger wasn’t the problem. She carried people along with her all the time. It was the Nexus itself. It was moving. The floor was tilting. “What’s going on?”
Piper clung tight to her as the floor dropped. “Hold on!”
Paige held on to her sisters and Alysha as the floor shook and fell, bounding about like an earthquake. The small sculptures and artwork that Prue had re-created fell from their shelves. The picture the kids painted for her nearly slipped off the wall. Paige and her fellow travelers managed to keep to
their feet until the movements stopped.
“Everyone okay?” Piper asked.
“I thought you were taking me someplace safe,” Alysha said.
“So did we,” Paige agreed.
Piper was already off, moving from the living area to the rest of her sister’s magical home. “We need to find Prue and find out what’s happening.”
Phoebe was after her in a flash. “Hold on, Piper! We should stay together!”
Paige grabbed on to Alysha. “Phoebe’s right. We shouldn’t split up. Let’s go.”
“Out of the frying pan and into the frickin’ fire,” Alysha said as they followed.
Prue’s magical home on the Nexus didn’t shift or jolt as they made their way through the rooms, but the damage was already done. Pictures had fallen, furniture had slid into the middle of rooms, and the rugs were bunched into piles. But more was out of place than just the items that filled the house. Walls were coming apart, sections of the ceiling were missing, and floors had rippled so it was like walking through a fun house as they searched for their sister, with Piper calling out the entire time.
“Prue! Prue!”
“In here!”
“That doesn’t sound like a Prue,” Alysha said.
“That’s Cole,” Paige explained as they hopped over a pile of debris on the floor.
“And Cole is?”
“A long, long story.” Paige grabbed Alysha’s hand again. “Come on.”
They found Prue and Cole in a room that had to be the master bedroom. Paige had never seen it before, but it was a sight to behold. It was half the size of Paige’s entire house, featuring a separate sitting area with a fireplace and doors leading to a bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a photographer’s darkroom. Paige briefly considered whether she and her family were staying with the wrong sister. If it wouldn’t have been a pain to orb Henry and the kids around the world, she would have asked to stay.
The room centered on a king-sized bed where Prue was almost lost in the bedding. They were in the veritable calm at the center of the storm. While the rest of the house was in shambles, littered with debris, the master bedroom seemed relatively at peace. The same could not be said for Prue.
The eldest Halliwell sister was tossing and turning, twisting herself in her sheets. She was sweating and seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. Her eyelids flittered and she could barely focus when they were open.
The tattoos on her arm had nearly faded completely.
“Prue!” Piper cried. “Prue, are you okay?”
Phoebe looked to Cole. “What happened?”
“It’s the imbalance of power,” Cole said. “It’s affecting her and the Nexus.”
“It’s this bad?” Phoebe asked. “How delicate is this place? It’s only a handful of witches.”
“No . . . more . . . dozens. . . .” Prue said. “Spreading . . . all over . . . Northeast. . . .”
Piper placed a hand on her sister’s forehead. “It’s okay, Prue. We got it. This is more of an attack than we’d originally thought.”
“Sounds like it’s getting bigger,” Paige added.
“This demon obviously has more minions than we’d anticipated,” Phoebe said. “Beyond this Austin kid and the others that attacked the coven.”
“Austin!” Alysha dug around in her purse. “He gave me this.”
Paige took the folded piece of paper. She opened it to reveal writing in some ancient language she was unfamiliar with. The ink was red as blood. “This isn’t . . . ?”
“Blood?” Cole took the page from her. “Not quite. At least, not entirely. It would take forever to write an entire book in blood. The blood would dry too quickly. You’d have to keep dipping the pen.”
Alysha whispered to Paige. “Um . . . He knows an awful lot about writing with blood.”
“Former demon,” Paige replied. “Part of the long story.”
Cole held the page up, examining it closely. “But there’s definitely blood in the writing. We’ll need to use magical means to learn more.”
Paige grabbed the paper. “The spell Prue and I used earlier should work.”
Prue moaned as her body twisted. Something in the hall crashed, but the bedroom remained calm. “It’s happening . . . again. . . .” Prue said. “Spreading.”
“How can they be attacking so many witches with one book?” Cole asked. “Even if they’re teleporting all over the East Coast, it’s got to take time.”
“There’s more than one book,” Phoebe explained. “They had at least six in the woods. There may be more.”
“There are probably more,” Piper added.
“I’ve seen that book,” Alysha said. “It’s pretty big. If there are more of them . . . that’s a lot of blood.”
“Yes,” Cole agreed. “It is.”
A collective shiver ran through the group.
“We need to figure out who this demon is,” Phoebe said. “I only got a glimpse of him before he blinked out, but he was red and silver. I think he had horns.”
“We collected a video,” Paige offered. “From one of the witnesses’ phones before we erased it. It’s not very good.”
Cole watched the jumpy video. He shrugged an apology. “The Underworld’s a big place. That blur could be anyone.”
“I could draw him,” Alysha said.
Paige smiled. “Of course! We have our very own forensic artist! Hey, maybe I will start that witch-scene investigation team.”
“I’ll need a sketchbook and some colored pencils,” Alysha said.
“On it,” Prue said weakly. She closed her eyes and concentrated. The art materials appeared, growing out of the top of a desk on the side of the room.
“That’s convenient,” Alysha said as she went for the sketchbook.
Paige held up the sheet of the Book of Light. “I’ll go take care of this. Find out whose blood it is. If it belongs to the demon, we could use it to vanquish him. Piper, I’ll need some help.”
“I’ll come too,” Phoebe said.
“No,” Paige said. “You stay with Prue. Keep an eye on her.”
Phoebe’s eyes weren’t on Prue at the moment, but Paige knew it was for the best. Piper needed to be separated from Prue to be effective, and Phoebe could use a bit more bonding time with her new, old friend.
Paige didn’t wait for arguments before leaving the room.
Piper watched as Paige crushed basil in a mortar. “I realize this isn’t the best time, but do you know who’s covering the dinner shift?”
Paige stopped what she was doing to give her sister a meaningful look, but Piper wasn’t sure how to define it. “What?”
“You were the one who was in this morning,” Paige said. “Why don’t you know who’s on schedule tonight?”
“I have been kind of occupied lately,” Piper reminded her.
Paige put down the pestle. “I know, Piper. You’ve got Prue back. I can’t imagine what that’s like, considering the bond you two share. But she’s back for me, too. I finally have the chance to get to know her. And she’s back for Phoebe, whether or not Phoebe’s ready to visit here when the world isn’t falling apart. It’s a miracle. Like, a literal definition of one. But our lives can’t stop entirely for her.”
“She’s trapped in this place,” Piper insisted.
“And that’s not fair,” Paige said. “But when has the magic ever been fair? Is it fair that your life finally settled down enough for you to open your dream restaurant only to find that now you barely have time to run it?”
“I think you’ll agree that Prue’s life is a bit more important than fulfilling my dream,” Piper said.
Paige picked up the pestle again and continued crushing the basil. Her eyes were focused on the mortar, avoiding Piper. “Is it? Would Prue want you to give up on your dream for her? And what about Prue?”
>
“What about her?”
“She’s trapped here. At least for now. Prue’s got to be able to come to terms with that. She has to be able to make a life for herself here on her own. She can’t do that if you don’t let her. At some point you’re going to have to go home. It’s not just your restaurant. Your children need you. Leo needs you. It’s going to be hard on her today. It will be harder next week. Even harder the week after that. It’s not going to get any easier.”
“At some point I’ll start annoying her and she’ll want me gone,” Piper said lightly.
Paige poured the basil into the smoking cauldron. “Phoebe, maybe. But you? Never.”
“You’re right,” Piper said. “I know you’re right. But . . . I’m not ready.”
Paige gave her a good, hard look. “I get that. But it’s not going to happen on its own. You’re going to have to decide to be ready at some point. And some point soon, because that restaurant is going to drive me nuts.”
“It would probably be easier for me if you weren’t so good at the job.”
“I’ll remember that,” Paige replied. “And I’ll make sure to screw a few things up along the way.”
“You do that,” Piper said as the smoke in the cauldron changed from white to red.
“Looks like the spell’s ready,” Paige said.
“Looks like it is,” Piper agreed.
Prue was no longer on the Nexus.
No, that wasn’t right. Her body was still at the Nexus. Her body was never going to leave the Nexus again if the Elders were to be believed. But her mind had gone someplace else. Someplace familiar. The images weren’t clear yet, but she recognized the shadows.
It wasn’t astral projection. That she couldn’t do. It was the first thing she’d tried to help her escape. Being able to send her soul traveling would have solved everything for her. Well, not everything, but it would have helped. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
She was in a vision. The flashes of violence had been expanding to full pictures, moving with sound. This was the first one she’d been pulled into. She finally understood why as the image began to clear.