by Paul Ruditis
“What is she talking about?” Prue asked Piper. “Black jacket?”
“It’s Phoebe. Who knows what she’s ever talking about?” Piper handed Prue a menu.
“I get that you made more food than we could possibly eat in a week, but why do I need a menu?” Prue asked.
Piper smacked her sister on the arm. “It’s not for breakfast. It’s for my restaurant. Look at it!”
“Look at . . .” Prue noticed the photo at the top of the menu page. It was a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge she had taken years ago on a day she’d spent alone with her camera around the Presidio. She’d completely forgotten that day until she saw the results of it in front of her. It was the last time she’d taken an entire day off to go around and photograph the world before she’d died.
“I had it developed after your funeral,” Piper explained. “I figured if you can’t come visit my restaurant, I’ll still have a part of you there always.”
“Thank you, Piper,” Prue said. “It’s the next best thing to being there. But seriously, did you have to bring the entire contents of your restaurant kitchen here? We’ll never be able to eat this.”
“We’re expecting some visitors,” Piper said. “Brace yourself. Oh, Paige!”
Two bodies appeared in orbs that eventually formed Paige and an unexpected surprise holding a suitcase.
“Dad!” Prue wanted to run to her father, but fear held her back.
“Prue? Prue, is that . . . of course it is.” Victor smiled and pulled her into a hug. “It’s so good to have you back.”
“Dad?” Her voice cracked. “Dad, it’s me.”
“I know,” Victor said, still clinging to her. “Your sisters explained everything. It doesn’t matter what you look like. You’re as beautiful to me today as you were for all of your life and beyond. I’ve got my girl back. That’s all I care about.”
Prue was too choked up to speak. She’d been putting this reunion off for too long and for stupid reasons. None of it mattered anymore. All the problems she’d had with her dad in the past were wiped away once again just feeling herself in his arms. That comfort remained even once he’d let her go.
Prue wiped away a tear. “You brought a suitcase?”
“I’m here for the week,” Victor said. “If I’m welcome.”
“Of course you’re welcome,” Prue said. “I’ll add an extra room.”
“Good,” Piper said. “Because I have to get back to my restaurant. And my kids.”
Paige began to orb again. “Speaking of which . . .”
She returned a moment later, with many, many more orbs dropping from the air. It was more than just two people. It was more than five. A dozen shapes formed in the kitchen, eventually becoming the entire living Halliwell clan.
“Aunt Prue!” all the children yelled as they ran up to attack her with hugs. A sea of kids surrounded Prue, nearly pulling her off her feet with their enthusiasm and love.
“What’s all the—” Cole came to a dead stop in the doorway, nearly causing Alysha and Austin to slam into him as they were forced to stop short as well. The look on the former demon’s face suggested that he’d finally realized the full extent of what he’d gotten himself into by agreeing to live there.
Prue had to laugh as she bathed in the warmth of the family glow. “I think I’m going to have to add a few more rooms.”
About the Author
Paul Ruditis has written numerous companion books and novels for TV shows like Battlestar Galactica, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek, The Walking Dead, and The West Wing. He has co-authored both of the official Charmed episode guides and has written several earlier Charmed novels, as well as the New York Times bestselling comic book series revealing the show’s “unaired” ninth season.
Copyright
Charmed: The War on Witches © 2015 by Spelling Television Inc. A CBS Company.
Charmed is a trademark and a copyright of Spelling Television Inc. A CBS Company. Licensed by CBS Consumer Products Inc. [2014]. All rights reserved.
A novel by Paul Ruditis. Based upon the television series Charmed, created by Constance M. Burge.
All rights reserved under all applicable International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
EPub Edition May 2015 ISBN: 9781443445979
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, by arrangement with CBS Consumer Products Inc.
First published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd in this ePub edition in 2015.
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Let Gorgons Be Gorgons
Paul Ruditis
Based upon the television series Charmed, created by Constance M. Burge
On Sale September 29, 2015
Chapter 1
“I’m telling you, Phoebe. This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a PR nightmare.” Mika Yoshida slumped back in the guest chair of Phoebe’s office, conceding defeat.
The publicist for The Bay Mirror wasn’t usually a drama queen. Phoebe tried to hear her out, even though it was becoming increasingly difficult to take the problem seriously. “I’ve been to the end of the world,” Phoebe said, only slightly joking. “It had very little to do with public relations.”
Mika glared at her. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m making fun of the situation,” Phoebe corrected. “I get that it’s your job to handle these things. You know how much I appreciate your work. Readership for Ask Phoebe doubled after you started here. But no, I don’t take what you’re saying right now very seriously.”
“Five couples.” Mika pounded her fist on Phoebe’s desk to punctuate the statement. “Five couples broke up in the past week--”
“Couples break up all the time. If it didn’t happen I wouldn’t have an advice column.”
Mika plowed on as if Phoebe hadn’t said anything. “And what did these five couples have in common? They were all married in a ceremony presided over by The Bay Mirror’s resident expert on love. The headlines practically write themselves. Our competitors are going to have a field day.”
“Which is precisely why I never should have agreed to that photo op in the first place. Who gets married in a mass wedding officiated by a newspaper columnist ordained over the internet?” Phoebe rifled through her desk in search of a pencil. She didn’t write anything out longhand, but she’d developed an annoying habit of chewing on one while she wrote. Phoebe went through two boxes of pencils while working on her book.
“The Church of Love and Light is a well-respected non-denominational organization.” Mika could barely keep her face straight.
Phoebe pulled out a relatively fresh pencil with barely any teeth marks. “It was forever ago. I’m surprised these marriages lasted as long as they have, to be honest. I wouldn’t have given half of them a week. The better question is why are you stalking these couples in the first place?”
“I wanted to do a follow up story. A kind of ‘where are they now?’ article showing how you’ve inspired their happy marriages. I didn’t realize that inspiration had an expiration date.”
Phoebe placed the pencil behind her ear. She didn’t have time for this. She’d been so busy with the girls and the
ghouls lately that she’d gotten behind in her work. Elise still had some stockpiled articles she kept on hand in case of magical distractions, but Phoebe needed to get ahead of future issues. The stack of letters on her desk was practically demanding to be read. And that was nothing compared to the additional piles in the mailroom.
Phoebe got up and politely—though not so subtly—helped Mika out of the guest seat. “It is a little weird that they all decided to file for divorce this week,” she conceded. “But, I wouldn’t call it a PR nightmare yet.”
“In the making,” Mika insisted. “I said it has the potential to be a PR nightmare. It’s my job to stay on top of these things.”
Phoebe led her to the door. “And you’re really good at your job. Now that you’ve alerted me to the issue, I’ll keep an ear out for any other breakups. Maybe some of these people have written in about their problems and I can do my own follow up in the column exploring the challenges of maintaining a marriage.”
Mika’s eyes lit up. “I can spin that.”
“I have no doubt.” Phoebe gave Mika a gentle push out of her office. “Now go head off some other PR emergency. I hear the new sports reporter has some questionable thoughts on women as professional athletes.”
Mika sighed. “You joke, but that’s why Elise had to fire the last sports reporter.”
Phoebe watched her friend walk off with newfound determination. She didn’t envy the publicist’s job. Mika took the paper’s failures personally. It got worse every time someone posted an article online about how newspapers were a dying industry. It was almost like she felt it was solely her responsibility to keep The Bay Mirror in business. Ever since Phoebe’s advice column to the lovelorn had become one of the most popular sections of the paper, Mika went into overdrive when anything happened to threaten it. Thankfully, Elise usually kept her in check.
The Bay Mirror’s editor-in-chief was fairly mellow about the newspaper business. Elise Rothman had seen so much in her career that she used to claim that she was prepared for anything, no matter how bizarre. Back then, Elise never anticipated just how unprepared she was to discover the secret that Phoebe had been keeping from her for years: that she and her sisters were witches. Elise recovered from the shock quickly—the circumstances had demanded it—but it was a memorable milestone in their relationship. It was also the last time Elise had ever mentioned that she was prepared for anything.
Phoebe was about to start on her pile of letters when an outburst of laughter caught her attention. Normally, she was able to ignore the typical commotion from the bullpen. Reporters were always calling attention to themselves reacting to something or other. But this time, the noise piqued Phoebe’s interest when she saw a familiar freelance photojournalist leaning against the desk of the paper’s political reporter.
Phoebe had noticed a love connection forming between Rachel and Jal weeks ago while the pair was looking over photo selects for one of his articles. As the paper’s resident love expert, Phoebe had made it a personal mission to nurture that budding relationship. A small part of her knew she should just let nature take its course, but her meddlesome tendencies proved a louder voice in her head.
The potential pair was hunched over something so funny that it clearly warranted further attention. Phoebe dropped her pencil on the desk and went out to join them, putting off the stack of letters just a bit longer. “What’s so funny?”
“This!” Jal held out Rachel’s digital camera. His body was shaking so hard with laughter it was impossible to make out the image on the screen.
Phoebe leaned in. “What is it? I can’t tell.”
“Let me.” Rachel grabbed her camera and Phoebe felt a jolt of pleasant emotion as the pair’s hands touched. Even someone who wasn’t an empath would have noticed it. Rachel and Jal were clearly on their way to coupledom on their own, without any help from Phoebe.
Rachel held out the camera. “Does this statue look familiar?”
Now that the screen was still, Phoebe could finally make out the image. The stone carving of a man in a suit appeared to be the Presidio. She could see the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. “It looks like … Congressman Ward?”
“The likeness is uncanny,” Rachel said.
“It’s the expression on his face that sells it,” Jal said through the laughter as Rachel joined back in. “Like he has a permanent stick up his butt. I want to go down there and leave birdseed all over it so the pigeons can go to town.”
Phoebe didn’t share in their amusement. Years of experience with the supernatural raised her warning level without the need for a premonition. Random statues of living politicians didn’t often turn up in parks on their own. Phoebe held out a hand, hoping to determine if her suspicions were justified. “Can I get a closer look?”
“Sure.” Rachel handed over the camera while suppressing a last few giggles.
Phoebe enlarged the image on the screen. They were right. It looked exactly like Ward, at least the photos Phoebe had seen of the man. The statue even matched his usual dour expression, but with just the barest hint of what could be surprise in the eyes. That little bit of shock added to Phoebe’s concern. She had to be absolutely sure.
Phoebe concentrated on the image, forcing herself to see beyond the picture, beyond the pixels. The world around her faded and suddenly she was in the congressman’s California office, at least, in her mind.
It was nighttime. Late. The congressman’s staff was long gone. Ward sat at his desk, dressed as if it was still the workday. He hadn’t even loosened his tie. That was no surprise. Ward wasn’t the casual type in his personality or his politics. If he had his way, no one in the country would be casual about anything. The congressman was preoccupied with drafting laws to ensure the public had no right to do anything. Phoebe was surprised that a progressive city like San Francisco had elected such a closed-minded politician, but she reminded herself that his district was actually outside of town in one of the more cloistered areas.
In her vision, Phoebe saw the congressman stand to greet someone entering his office. She wished she could see through his eyes to know who it was, but she couldn’t control that aspect of her vision. It was still unusual for her not to see more. The visitor may have been using some kind of cloaking spell to keep prying eyes from getting a full picture. Phoebe concentrated, but the vision remained incomplete.
The congressman did not come out from behind his desk, keeping it between himself and his seemingly unexpected visitor. There was no offer of a warm greeting to whomever had come in. Ward wasn’t overtly angry about the late-night intrusion, more like mildly annoyed. The practiced veil of the politician couldn’t hide his true feelings, but he tried to adopt a fake smile to cover his displeasure. Couldn’t risk offending a potential voter in the next election. Phoebe’s vision didn’t include sound, so she wasn’t privy to the conversation, but it seemed innocuous enough.
The sudden change caught Phoebe by surprise, just as it did the congressman. One moment, Ward was speaking and the next he was frozen in stone. He barely had time to react. Only that barest hint of surprise registered in his granite eyes.
Phoebe came out of the vision to find Rachel and Jal staring at her. She was used to this. It happened from time to time. Her coworkers didn’t know she’d just had a vision of the past. From their perspective, Phoebe tensed up and then zoned out. Depending on how long she’d been in the vision, they might have feared she’d had some kind of stroke.
Phoebe laughed, hoping to break the tension as she handed the camera back to Rachel. “Perfect likeness. He should find a way to use it in his next campaign.”
Jal turned to his computer and brought up his contact list. “I’m going to see if I can get a statement out of the congressman’s office. Nobody seems to know where the statue came from or why it’s in the middle of the Presidio.”
“Maybe I can get a shot of the congressman standing besi
de it,” Rachel suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We can ask readers to see if they can tell the real from the fake.”
“Better hurry,” Jal said. “The groundskeepers will probably be carting it away soon.”
Phoebe backed away from Jal’s desk. “I just remembered the girls have a doctor’s appointment this morning. If Elise is looking for me, tell her I’ll be back later.”
Phoebe didn’t wait for the pair to respond before heading out. She tapped her phone awake as she left the bullpen and pressed Paige’s name while waiting for the elevator. If Paige was free, she could orb into the building, grab Phoebe, and get them both to Piper’s before the elevator reached the first floor. The doors opened the same moment Paige answered the call.
“Tell me your kids are in daycare at Magic School today,” Phoebe said as she stepped into the elevator.
“They are,” Paige replied. “I’m supposed to meet a new Charge in an hour. I’m guessing my plans just changed?”
“That would be a safe bet,” Phoebe said. “Come get me. I’m in the elevator at work.”
“On my way.”
Phoebe ended the call as the familiar white/blue orbs began to collect at the top of the elevator. Having a sister that could teleport at a moment’s notice had its perks. It wouldn’t be long before they knew what kind of danger the day held in store for them. It seemed unlikely that Phoebe would be getting to that stack of letters anytime soon.
Copyright
Charmed: Let Gorgons Be Gorgons © 2015 by Spelling Television Inc. A CBS Company.
TM & © 2015 Spelling Television, Inc. A CBS Company. All Rights Reserved. Charmed and all related characters, names and indicia are trademarks of Spelling Television, Inc. ’15. All Rights Reserved
A novel by Paul Ruditis. Based upon the television series Charmed, created by Constance M. Burge.