Somewhere in lime...
  Phoebe couldn't help noticing that something was very
wrong: the way everyone was dressed like the cast of a
Thanksgiving play, the horse and carriage, the
buildings made of wood.... Unless I've landed
in some bizarro Pilgrim party, she told herself, that
demon brought me into another time zone-one that's not
even close to Pacific Standard!
  Suddenly it seemed as if everyone in the village
was rushing over to gawk and gasp at the strange girl
hiding behind the cart.
  "See her belly?" an old woman said,
scowling. "Pierced with a ring, it is. It is the mark
of the devil, I say."
  Phoebe glanced down. "My navel ring," she
muttered under her breath.
  "Witch!" the mob cried, closing in around her.
"Witch! Witch!"
  Phoebe felt the hair on the back of her
neck stand up. If she remembered correctly, people
in the past didn't exactly like witches.
  In fact, they sometimes made a point of killing
them.
--------------------------------------i
  Charmed[*reg]
  The Power of Three Kiss of Darkness The
Crimson Spell Whispers from the Past Voodoo
Moon Haunted by Desire The Gypsy
Enchantment The Legacy of Merlin Soul of the
Bride Beware What You Wish Cliarmed Again
Spirit of the Wolf Garden of Evil Date with Death
  Dark Vengeance Shadow of the Sphinx
  Something Wiccan This Way Comes
  Mist and Stone Mirror Image Between Worlds
Truth and Consequences Luck Be a Lady
Inherit the Witch A Tale of Two Pipers The
Brewing Storm Survival of the Fittest
  The Book of Three: The Official Companion
to the Hit Show
  Published by Simon and Schuster
--------------------------------------ii
  WHISPERS
  FROM THE PAST
  An original novel by Rosalind Noonan
  Based on the hit TV scries created
by Constance M Surge
  SjSlEvery
  SIMON SPOTLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT New
York London Toronto Sydney
------------------------------------comiii
  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should
be aware that this book is stolen property. It was
reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher,
and neither the author nor the publisher has received any
payment for this "stripped book."
  This book is a work of fiction. Any references
to historical events, real people, or real locales
are used fictitiously. Other names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the author's
imagination and any resemblance to actual events or
locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
  First Pocket Pulse edition June 2000
  First Simon Pulse edition August 2002
  First Simon Spotlight Entertainment edition
December 2004
  [*reg] and [*copy] 2000 Spelling
Television Inc. All Rights Reserved.
  s[sIe
  simon spotljght entertainment
  An imprint of Simon and Schuster Children's
Publishing Division 1230 Avenue of the
Americas, New York, NY 10020
  All rights reserved, including the right of
reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
  SIMON SPOTLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT and
colophon are registered trademarks of Simon and
Schuster, Inc. Manufactured in the United
States of America
  19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11
10 ISBN: 0-671-04165-7
--------------------------------------iv
  WHISPERS
  FROMTH-EVERY PAST
--------------------------------------v

  1 he warlock backed up against the brick wan.
  He was cornered, trapped in a shadowed, narrow
alleyway behind the colorful retail shops in San
Francisco's popular North Beach district.
  The man with the oddly glittering yellow eyes
growled at Phoebe Halliwell and her sisters,
Piper and Prue. Phoebe wanted to laugh. Like the
guy had a reason to be mad at them! He was the one
who had jumped down from a fire escape, grabbed
Piper by the hair, and muttered something about the dark
side.
  When the creep crashed their party, the three sisters
had been innocently making their way into the old
warehouse that had been converted to a shopping mall.
Prue had seen a pair

  of boots she liked at a place called Kick
in the Pants, but she had wanted a second and a
third opinion before she laid out two hundred
dollars for something she didn't really need.
  "Honey, if you love them, you need them,"
Phoebe had told her, slinging an arm around
Prue's shoulders as they'd cut down a narrow
side street-a deserted narrow side street.
  Phoebe had to admit that maybe her shortcut
hadn't been such a great idea. Jeez, she thought.
You head out for a pair of boots, you wind up with a
hostile warlock in your face.
  Not that fighting warlocks was anything new
to Phoebe and her sisters. They were the Charmed Ones,
three witches with special powers. Since they'd
found The Book of Shadows in the attic of
Halliwell Manor, the home they'd inherited from
their grandmother, they had begun to learn the Craft.
  The sisters made a pact to harm no one, as
Gram would have wanted, and to use their powers for good.
That included fighting off lots of evil beings, like this
guy. They were getting pretty good at it, too.
Phoebe was beginning to realize that as long as she and
her sisters were together-as long as they had the Power of
Three-nothing could stop them.
  For the moment they were winning this battle as well.
Piper, who'd gotten her hair out of the warlock's
grip by stomping on his instep, now blocked the steep
stairway that led to the

  alley. Prue stood in front of the street
exit. Phoebe stood in front of the guy, so
close she could reach out and peel the evil smirk off
his face. They had him surrounded and he knew it.
  Phoebe pushed up the sleeves of her
favorite black leather jacket, ready to fight.
  "I don't know why you're here," Prue told the
warlock. "And I don't know where you come from. But
you're going to be sorry you came." Her blue
eyes flashed with anger as a strand of jet-black
hair slippjed down, touching her cheek.
  "Really?" the warlock growled. "If you're
trying to frighten me, you'll have to try harder. Much
harder."
  "Happy to oblige." There was no mistaking the
mix of hatred and fierceness in Prue's voice.
  All of Phoebe's senses were on alert,
hypersensitive to the musty smell of the alley, the
sight of the dirty wooden crates lining its sides,
the buzz of cars and buses on the street at its
other end, and the scuffling sound of shoes on cement as
Piper stepped forward, slowly, cautiously. In
tune with the moment, Phoebe felt her palms begin
to sweat. Sure, there was a certain rush of
adrenaline when facing a warlock. It was either fight
like crazy or find yourself eating dirt. But even her
free spirit couldn't ignore the danger element. This
creep might

  wind up doing some serious damage to her or to her
sisters.
  Piper stepped forward again, closing the circle.
The warlock lifted his hand. In it was a flash of
silver-a dagger!
  Phoebe felt every muscle in her body go
taut. Where did that thing come from?
  The warlock whipped his hand over his shoulder like a
dart champion. Then, with his eyes dead-set on
Phoebe, he thrust his hand forward and let the dagger
go. Phoebe gasped as the silver blade sailed
forward . . . coming right at her!
  Phoebe closed her eyes. She couldn't help
flinching, expecting the cold, sharp edge of the knife
to slice through her leather jacket and T-shirt and
flesh.
  But she felt nothing.
  Phoebe opened her eyes to find the dagger
suspended in midair, just inches away from her chest.
Behind it, the warlock was frozen in place, his face
twisted in a sneer.
  Phoebe knew Piper had used her power
to freeze time.
  "That was close," Prue said.
  "You're telling me." Phoebe shuddered and wiped
her palms against her jeans.
  With a look of concentration and a wave of her hand,
Prue used her power of telekinesis to knock the
dagger out of the air. It clattered onto the cement at
Phoebe's feet.

  "Who is this guy?" Piper raked back her long
brown hair, looking rattled. "You know, I think
he blocked my powers for a minute. I kept trying
to freeze him and I got zilch, nada."
  "Creepy," Phoebe said, bending down to pick
up the dagger.
  The second she touched it, she felt its powers.
Energy rippled from it into her hands. Holding on
tight, she saw a vision unfold. That was
Phoebe's gift: She saw visions of the future,
of the past, and sometimes of worlds in between. Now she heard
evil laughter. She saw a flash of light, then a
swirl of green smoke, twisting, twirling in a
vortex.
  Two figures began to emerge beyond the green
smoke.
  Pop!
  The picture in Phoebe's mind went blank.
Confused, she stared down at the dagger.
  "What is it, Phoeb?" Piper asked.
  "Something's very wrong here," Phoebe answered.
"I was starting to get a vision, but all of a sudden it
just... ended. Like someone didn't pay the cable
bill."
  "What did you see?" Prue demanded.
  Phoebe shrugged. "Just... I don't know. A
lot of green."
  "Green?" Piper squinted. "As in plants and
trees?"
  Phoebe shook her head. "More like green
smoke."

  "Kind of like a smoke screen?" Prue folded
her arms and scowled at the frozen man. "So, even
in a freeze you're blocking Phoebe's visions?
You must be one powerful warlock."
  "What are we going to do?" Piper asked
nervously. "He's going to unfreeze any minute.
And our powers-was
  "Axe fine," Prue said firmly. The eldest
sister, Prue had a way of making things sound as if
they were totally under control.
  Still holding the cold dagger, Phoebe tried
to think of a way to put the lid on this warlock. "There
has to be a spell or something we could use. After
all, he's just a warlock."
  Piper's brows lifted, "fust a warlock?"
  Phoebe sighed. Piper was probably the most
cautious of the three sisters-sometimes too cautious.
  "I mean, he's human, like us," Phoebe said,
waving the dagger as she talked. "Just a man who
practices evil witchcraft. And we've dealt
with much worse."
  "Plus, it's all of us against him," Prue said.
"We have the Power of Three."
  "Right," Phoebe said, turning the dagger to fend
off the warlock. "Together, we can whip some major
warlock bootie."
  That made Piper smile-just for a minute-until
they caught the flurry of movement that signaled the
end of Piper's freeze. The warlock's evil
grin faded. "What . . . ?" he mut-

  tered, confused. Then, when things registered, he
let out a crackling roar.
  "Is that a nasty sound, or what?" Piper said.
  "People are so rude today," Prue agreed.
"Whatever happened to manners?"
  "Come on. I'm ready for you," Phoebe said,
waving the dagger at him. A dark, engraved symbol
flashed on the base of the dagger, catching her eye.
What was that? It wasn't like any of the Wiccan
symbols she'd ever seen-or even anything she'd
encountered in black magic. What kind of a warlock
was this guy? His powers were far beyond the human realm and
far beyond those she'd seen in any other warlock. Way
beyond-as if from another plane.
  Duh! Phoebe thought. Of course! Maybe he
wasn't human at all. Maybe he was a
monster. Or a demon. Or a-
  Whoa! The man launched a high kick at the
dagger in Phoebe's hand. "fHey!" she cried.
She took a step back against the brick wall.
Kick averted. Danger coming right up.
  "Change of plans," she shouted to her sisters.
"I don't think he's a-was
  "Brrrrraaaah!" the warlock raged, cutting
her off.
  "Oooooh. Someone isn't happy," Prue said
dryly.
  "Frustrated because you couldn't get this?" Phoebe
asked, holding up the dagger with a taunting smile.

  The warlock fixed Phoebe with a vicious stare.
His yellow eyes seemed to penetrate her, making
her shiver for a moment. Then he refo-cused on the
dagger in her hand. Phoebe clutched it tightly as
it went cold, then tickled her hand.
  Something was happening.
  As she watched in amazement, the dagger began
to shimmer and break up into swirling particles. The
particles flashed and whirled. Then the dagger
disappeared. Her hand was empty.
  "Okay," Piper said. "Now I'm scared."
  Phoebe stared at the man, half-expecting
to see the dagger reappear in his hand. What sort of
weird powers did he have, anyway?
  The girls continued to inch toward him, though now
Phoebe wasn't sure of what they'd do with him
once they'd trapped him. It wasn't as though
anyone would wander into this alley to help them.
  The warlock snatched a wooden crate from the
floor of the alley and spun around, poised like a
caged animal. He held the crate to his chest,
then hoisted it through the air.
  It sailed straight toward Piper.
  "Make it stop!" Prue yelled to her sister.
  Piper's face grew tight with concentration.
Phoebe could tell that she was trying to stop the crate
by freezing time-only Piper's freezing thing was,
well, frozen.

  Phoebe watched in shock and horror as the
crate hit Piper, knocking her to the ground.
  "No!" Prue cried. She rushed to Piper's
end of the alley.
  Phoebe looked from the man to her sisters.
"Piper, are you okay?" she asked, trying not to let
the warlock out of her sight.
  Piper was nodding, trying to speak, but nothing came
out of her mouth. Phoebe turned her head, concerned,
and the warlock bolted. He streaked down the alley
to the street exit, which was now wide open.
  For a flash, Phoebe considered letting him go.
Bad idea, she scolded herself. This guy was too
powerful to be running loose in San Francisco.
Might as well get the dirty work over with now.
  "He's getting away!" Phoebe shouted to her
sisters. She took off, giving chase. He was at
  the end of the alley now,
  glancing both ways
  down the street.
  "No!" Prue's shout echoed down the alley.
"Phoebe, stop! You can't do it alone."
  Phoebe nearly skidded to a halt at the end of the
alley. Prue had a bad habit of being right.
Phoebe's power was the most passive of all the
sisters". Her visions wouldn't exactly help her
if she got into hot water. Still, she couldn't just let
that warlock-or whatever he was-get away!
  Phoebe darted down the street, dodging an old
man weighed down by grocery sacks.

  There was no turning back now. The warlock was
fast, but Phoebe was gaining on him.
  Up ahead, the warlock shoved aside a baby
stroller and knocked an orange crate from a
sidewalk fruit stand. Phoebe kept her eyes
fixed on him until he turned left, ducking out
of sight.
  Her heart pounded as she wove between an ice-cream
cart and a hydrant like a slalom skier. No way
was that monster getting away. Reaching the spot where
he'd turned, Phoebe looked to her left and saw
another alley, even darker than the first one.
  The warlock was there, running past a cluster of
Dumpsters. Phoebe lunged ahead. She couldn't
lose him.
  Then something started to happen. Phoebe stopped
running and stood, panting, staring ahead. The
warlock's skin was bubbling!
  His entire body boiled into a mass of slimy,
curdling green. His hair, his clothes, and his skin
all began to melt away. Before Phoebe's eyes,
his human disguise sloughed off.
  The transformation complete, the creature swung
around to stare back at her. Huge, bulbous brow
ridges protruded from his skull above a gaping mouth
of jagged, overlapping teeth. His skin was a series
of bulging, oozing scars. A long, barbed tail had
sprung from his lower back, and his feet had mutated
into huge, clawed paws.

  n
  Phoebe's heart pounded in her ears as the truth
hit her. This guy was evil incarnate: a gruesome,
hideous demon.
  This was worse than she'd thought. Demons had
powers way beyond most warlocks and way, way, way
beyond the scope of a newly practicing witch like
Phoebe.
  Okay, don't freak, Phoebe told herself.
She had faced demons before with the help of her
sisters.
  Come to think of it, where were they now?
  Stay cool, Phoebe thought. She checked out the
dark alley behind the festering green demon. It was a
dead end, blocked in by three brick walls. There
were no doorways, no exits, no stairs
to climb.
  No way out for the screaming green monster,
Phoebe thought. She folded her arms against the chill
of the shadowed alley. All she had to do was keep him
cornered until her sisters joined her. Piece of
cake.
  But the demon was off again, charging farther down the
alley. Where's he running to? Phoebe
wondered, staring into the shadows. There's only a
brick wall back there.
  But he was moving fast, his waxy green feet
bouncing along the dirty pavement.
  Okay, maybe he's a stupid demon, she
thought, following him.
  "Where do you think you're going?" she shouted.

  "Want to catch me?" he called over his scarred
green shoulder. "See if you can!"
  "What am I, a three-year-old?" Phoebe
snapped back at him. She frowned. He was a
stupid, smart-aleck demon-the worst kind.
  Picking up speed, Phoebe gritted her teeth
and ran right at him. She was going to grab him by his
pimply green neck and ...
  He ran farther. Phoebe couldn't believe it.
He was going to slam into that wall!
  Only, it wasn't a brick wall anymore.
The air in front of the bricks and mortar was
shimmering. The whole wall was fuzzy, moving like
snowy reception on a broken television. As the
demon reached it, Phoebe saw what he was doing.
Somehow he was magically creating an opening in the
wall-an escape hatch.
  Well, it wasn't going to be that easy. Not with
her on his tail-literally.
  As he dived headfirst into the swirling hole,
Phoebe reached in after him. "Gotcha!" she
called, firmly grasping his tail. She wedged the
toes of her boots against the base of the wall, leaned
back, and pulled with all her strength. She needed
to yank this sorry demon back into the alley.
  "Whoa! What's going on?" Phoebe felt the
shimmering wall begin to give way under her feet.
She couldn't get any leverage.
  She wasn't yanking the demon out of the hole, she
realized. He was pulling her in! The

  n
  wall began to disintegrate and swirl around them.
Bricks were sucked into the hole as though they were dust
particles in a giant vacuum. Phoebe could
feel herself edging into the vortex, inch by inch.
  I have to let go! she shrieked to herself. I have to get
out of this hole!
  But as the demon's tail slipped out of
Phoebe's hands, she felt her feet skidding
along the ground.
  "Piper!" she cried. "Prue!" She wriggled
and kicked and bucked ajgainst the incredible force.
  It was too late. With each tug, she felt herself
slipping out of the alley.
  Twisting around, Phoebe caught a quick glimpse
of brick wall and blue sky. Then everything was a
dark, wavy blur as the black hole sucked her
in.

  tier
  er tlirn down this way," Piper said, rushing into the
alley. Her arm throbbed where the crate had hit
her, but that didn't matter right now. Phoebe had
split away from them and chased after the warlock. The
whole thing made Piper totally nervous. "You heard
her, didn't you, Prue? She was calling us."
  Prue's dark hair flew back from her pale
face as she stormed into the alley. "I heard her,
Piper, but. . ." She marched ahead three more
steps, then held up her arms in frustration. "Where
is she?" Prue glanced around again. "I told her
not to go. Why doesn't she ever listen?"
  Piper knew that Prue wasn't really mad at
Phoebe. She was just freaking out because it
  u


  looked as if Phoebe and the warlock had somehow
disappeared.
  "Phoebe!" Piper called, trying to push back
the wave of panic that kept rising inside her. She
plunged on into the shadows. "Where are you?"
  "She's not here." Prue crossed her arms as she
surveyed the alley. "And there's no way out of this
smelly dead end. So, you tell me-where did they
go?"
  Piper squinted into the dark alley. There were no
doors or windows, no fences to climb, just two
Dumpsters and four stories of brick wall.
"Up?" she suggested, pointing to the roof. "Do you
think the warlock scaled a wall and carried
Phoebe along?"
  Prue frowned more deeply. "He's a warlock,
not Spider-Man."
  Piper cautiously peered into one of the Dumpsters,
holding her breath against the stench. It was empty. Beside
her, Prue coughed and slammed the door closed on
the other Dumpster.
  "Looks like today was trash pickup day," she said,
wiping her hands on her jeans. "Lucky us.
Otherwise we'd be sorting through a mountain of
garbage, looking for-was Her voice broke with
emotion. "Why didn't she wait? I told her
to wait!"
  "Prue ..." Piper reproached her sister.
Right now it didn't matter why Phoebe was lost.
The only thing that mattered was finding her.

  Backing away from the awful-smelling garbage
bins, Piper noticed a dark heap at the end of the
alley. It was a pile of ... rags? Old
papers?
  Wait a minute. Was the pile smoking?
  "What's that?" she asked, heading over to check it
out.
  "It's clothes or something," Prue said.
  Leaning over the still-smoldering heap, Piper reached
out to touch a fold of cloth. She jerked her hand
back, gasping. It was hot to the touch.
  Piper couldn't take her eyes off the folded
clothes. They were covered in oil and soot, but the
dirt and smoke couldn't disguise the garment that lay
there. On top of the heap was a jacket-Phoebe's
favorite black leather jacket.
  "Phoebe," Piper whispered.
  Sinking down beside her, Prue stared at the pile of
clothes in disbelief. Her blue eyes flashed with
terror as she studied them, shaking her head.
  Using a pen from her pocket, Prue separated the
items in the smoking heap. There was Phoebe's
jacket, her jeans, her T-shirt, bra, and
underwear, even her sneakers-all of the things Phoebe
had been wearing, all of them caked with oil and soot.
  Kneeling on the cold ground, Piper felt
dread overwhelm her. "What does it mean?" she
asked. "If her clothes are here, then where


  is she? What happened to her?" The thought of
Phoebe, alone, naked, maybe caught in a
spell cast by the warlock was too much to deal with.
  It was all too much-the shadowed alley, the
putrid smells, the cold pavement under her
knees. Tears stung her eyes as Piper buried
her head in her hands.
  "She's gone, Prue," Piper said. She tried
not to sob but quickly lost the battle. "Something really
awful has happened to her."
  "No!" Prue insisted. "Phoebe's okay.
She's got to be okay. This is just some ... some
nasty trick. That warlock probably used a
spell. And spells can be undone, right? We're the
Charmed Ones. We undo spells all the time."
  "With Phoebe," Piper said softly. "And she's
gone." Piper swiped at a tear rolling down her
cheek. "I'm scared, Prue."
  Reaching down, Prue helped Piper to her feet.
Through her tears, Piper saw the restrained
expression on her sister's face, as if she were about
to say something but was too afraid to articulate it.
Instead, Prue pulled her sister close and hugged
her hard.
  "It's going to be okay," Prue said. "We will
figure this out."
  Piper squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against her
better judgment that her older sister was right.
  "Look, Phoebe's not dead," Prue said
emphatically. "I mean, there's another explanation
for

  this. There's got to be. We just need to find out what
happened. Then we need to find Phoebe."
  Brushing away tears with the back of one hand,
Piper took a deep breath. "It's not that easy,
Prue. I mean, where do you start looking for someone
who went up in smoke? It's like searching for a needle
in a haystack-a smoking haystack. We'd
probably have more luck finding that stupid warlock."
  Piper noticed a flash in Prue's blue
eyes. Piper knew that look. It meant that her
sister had an idea.
  Prue squatted down beside the pile of clothes.
"They've stopped smoldering, I think," she
muttered. "Piper, give me your backpack," she
ordered.
  "What for?" Piper slipped off her backpack
and handed it over. "What are you doing?"
  "Collecting Phoebe's clothes," Prue said.
Gingerly, she picked up the jacket, then tried
to fold it as neatly as possible without getting too
much of the oily soot on her hands. "These clothes
may be the key to finding her." She unzipped
Piper's pack and shoved the leather jacket inside.
"Maybe we can use them to do a spell to locate a
missing person."
  "I didn't think of that." Kneeling beside her
sister, Piper helped gather up the rest of
Phoebe's clothes. They were still warm. It felt so
awful, touching her grimy things, wondering where
Phoebe was, hoping she was okay.


  "We've got to get home to look in The Book
of Shadows," Prue said, zipping up the
backpack.
  Yes, Piper thought, maybe the answer would be
there. The Book of Shadows was full of illustrations
and spells that had been passed down by the sisters'
ancestors. It was started by a woman named Melinda
Warren who had been burned as a witch in the
1600's. Many women in their family had used and
recorded things in the book. It had been used last
by Gram, the woman who'd raised Piper and her
sisters.
  "Have you ever seen anything about this in the book?"
Piper asked. "Warlocks with the power to melt people? A
spell that makes someone go up in smoke?"
  "Not that I remember. But there's so much we
haven't gotten to yet." Prue stood up and
brushed off her hands. Piper noticed a smudge of
soot on her cheek.
  She reached over and gently rubbed it off with her
thumb. "I almost hate to leave here," Piper said,
hugging herself as she stared at the brick walls around
her. "It's the last place Phoebe's been."
  Something flickered in Prue's eyes. Was it
fear? Piper wasn't sure.
  "Prue, do you really think she's okay?" Piper
had to ask.
  "Absolutely." Prue slipped Piper's
pack over her shoulder, looking as confident as ever.

  ChAlggMED
  Piper was sure she was only acting brave, but
somehow it made her feel better.
  "Phoebe is definitely okay," Prue
told her sister. "And if that warlock did anything
to hurt her, the two of us are going to collectively
kick his sulfurous butt."
  "Prue? Piper? Can you hear me?" Phoebe
shouted. But she didn't hear her sisters' voices,
only her own bubbling and reverberating as if she were
talking underwater. She kicked and thrashed, feeling like
a swimmer who couldn't find the surface. But it
didn't seem to matter if she moved. She was
caught in swirling mist, moving through a vortex. Like
a bug in the wind, she had no choice but to go where the
force took her.
  All the while she sensed the demon's
presence-his royal putridness. He was near, but
where? All she could see were swirling colors, shadow
and light. Why? Had he trapped her in some
bizarro astral demon plane?
  Phoebe really didn't know enough about these things
to figure it all out. "Piper!" she yelled.
"Prue!" The words bubbled around her, flat and
dead. She knew her sisters couldn't hear her, and
there was nothing she could do about it.
  She glanced around and noticed an opening ahead.
She was sailing right for it.
  Suddenly the mists around her grew thicker,


  blinding her. "Ow!" She slammed down on something
hard. What was it? She gingerly-lowered her hands and
felt dirt, hard-packed dirt, beneath her.
  The mist cleared from around Phoebe. She rubbed
her eyes. She still felt a little dizzy, but she was
relieved to be sitting on solid ground.
  Actually, she realized, she was sitting in an
alley. Definitely not the same one she was in before,
unless the demon had turned all the brick
buildings to wood. But at least this was real. Yes!
Back on good old planet Earth.
  Then she spotted him just a few feet away-the
demon. He was holding his huge head in his clawed
hands. Okay, Phoebe thought, time for a showdown with
Mr. Green Slime.
  She scrambled to her feet, but he was already up and
running, bouncing down the alley toward the light at
the end. "Hey!" she called after him. "This game of
tag is really starting to irritate me!"
  He lumbered to the mouth of the alley and scurried
off into the sunlight. Phoebe followed. As she
ran, she realized that the ground hurt her feet and
she felt strangely cold, but she filed that away
to deal with later.
  She paused in the shadow at the end of the alley
to peer out into the quiet street. Where was that demon?
There was no sign of him anywhere. There weren't even
any people in sight, only narrow clapboard houses with

  steep shingled roofs. Shivering in the cool
breeze, Phoebe bit her lip and wondered how
he could have slipped away so quickly.
  The demon was gone. Disappeared. And she had no
idea of where she was or why she was so cold.
  Phoebe glanced down and- Hey! The demon
wasn't the only thing that had vanished. Her clothes
were gone, too. She was stark naked!
  "Well, would you look at that!" Phoebe
exclaimed aloud. She folded her arms to cover her
chest and sidled over to a wooden cart to hide the
rest. Now that demon had really annoyed her. Not
only had he yanked her through that wall and dumped her
who-knows-where, he had left her without a shred of
clothing. She was really going to let him have it when she
caught up with him. She wasn't quite sure what she
was going to let him have, but that slimy green demon was
going to
  Pay-Pressed against the cart, Phoebe noticed
that
  it was loaded with a small basket of potatoes
and a sack of something that looked like grain. Slung
over the seat was a leather pouch on a belt. Hmm.
She picked up the belt and looped it around her
waist. Maybe this would cover some of the things that
mattered, at least temporarily. After she'd
fastened it around on the tightest notch, the belt still
hung below her


  belly button, but for now it was the best she could
do.
  Okay, now she looked like a half-naked
cowgirl.
  Phoebe heard footsteps. She glanced left.
Coming down the lane was a man with a sack slung over
his shoulder. "Please don't notice me. Please
don't notice me," she whispered.
  From her hiding place, Phoebe studied the man.
His shirt and pants were black-pretty standard. But
his leather shoes definitely predated Doc
Martens, and his hat was something off the Mayflower.
  Okay, Phoebe thought, so he's making a
fashion statement. But what exactly was he trying
to say? She crouched even lower behind the cart as the man
drew closer. His eyes were fixed on the ground, and
he strode right by. She was safe.
  But only for a moment. From the opposite direction
came three women in severe black bonnets with
dark, drab ankle-length dresses to match. Ugh.
The last thing Phoebe needed was an encounter with the
Nun Squad, especially when she just wanted to deal
with the demon, find some clothes, and then get back
home. If these chicks noticed her, things might
get sticky.
  Phoebe ducked down again until they'd passed
by. Maybe I can find a clothesline to raid
somewhere, she thought. Then I'll be able

  chApo
  to get down to business. Phoebe peered at the
women as they passed, through the spokes of the wagon
wheel.
  Wait a minute-a wagon wheel? Definitely
not your everyday San Francisco hiding place.
A whinnying sound met her ears. No, she thought. It
couldn't be. She turned slowly to the right. Yup, it
was-two horses hitched to the cart. How could she not
have noticed them earlier?
  Probably the whole being-naked thing, Phoebe
reasoned. It was a little distracting.
  But something was very wrong here, even more wrong than she
had first thought. She pieced together all the information she
had: the way everyone was dressed like the cast of a
Thanksgiving play, the horse and carriage, the
buildings made of wood. Phoebe bit her lower
lip. Unless I've landed in some bizarro
Pilgrim party, that demon brought me into another time
zone-one that's not even close to Pacific Standard!
  There was no use denying it: She'd gone back in
time. Way back. That swirling vortex thingy must have
been a time rift.
  Phoebe had read about time rifts in The Book
of Shadows. They were like waves that could transport you
to the past or present. They were also seriously
advanced magic-not something that she or her sisters had
ever thought about trying to use.


  "Who goes there?" called an angry male
voice.
  Phoebe felt goose bumps on the back of
her neck as she spun around. A short,
waxy-faced man in a broad-brimmed hat stood
behind her. He stared at her with such astonishment, you would
have thought she was the demon.
  Phoebe crouched down behind the cart, but there was no
point. She'd been discovered.
  "Well, hello to you, too," Phoebe said with
all the grace she could muster. She positioned her
arms strategically to hide anything that might be on
display. Talk about feeling exposed!
  The man with the waxy face pointed directly at
her. "I do believe the lady hath no clothes!"
he announced in a loud voice.
  No lie, Wax Man, Phoebe thought.
  Immediately he was joined by the three women who had
passed by and a couple who'd stepped out from the doorway
of a nearby building. Two men in long leather
aprons emerged from a place that looked like a stable.
A man driving a horse cart stopped short as he
turned onto the lane.
  Suddenly it seemed as if everyone in the village
was rushing over to gawk and gasp at the naked girl
hiding behind the cart.
  Why don't I just sell tickets, Phoebe
thought, shivering as a cool breeze blew over her.
  Was she supposed to explain to these people

  that she was from another time and that she had ventured here
to pursue a demon? Not likely.
  People in the crowd murmured and stared. A few even
giggled. Then an older woman stepped forward and
thrust a withered finger toward Phoebe's stomach.
  Phoebe swallowed hard. Uh-oh. This was starting
to get scary.
  "See her belly?" The old woman scowled.
"Pierced with a ring, it is. It is the mark of the
devil, I say."
  "Truly!" someone agreed.
  "The devil, indeed!" Wax Man shouted.
  Phoebe glanced down. "My navel ring," she
muttered under her breath. Hugging her chest more
tightly, she closed her eyes for a second and
wished she could be anywhere but here. The expressions on
the faces in the crowd turned harder, their stares
suddenly grim.
  The old woman was still pointing, her wrinkled hand
shaking with fervor. "The woman bears a ring through her
flesh, and yet she lives and breathes!" she cried.
"Truly, she must be a witch!"
  "A witch?" the murmur rippled through the crowd.
  Phoebe's mouth dropped open. What could she
say? Actually, I am a witch. But I'm a good
one. Really! It's not what you're thinking at all.
  "Yes, yes, I see it!" another woman
shouted. "She must be a witch!"


  Phoebe fell back against the cart as the crowd
loomed large around her.
  "Witch!" the mob cried, closing in around her.
"Witch! Witch!"
  Phoebe felt the hair on the back of her
neck stand up. American history wasn't her
strong point, but if she remembered correctly, the
Puritans didn't exactly like witches. In
fact, they made a point of killing them.
  Suddenly she knew what that demon had been up
to, bringing her here. She knew, and she didn't like
it one bit.

  1 lie sea of red, angry faces swam before
Phoebe's
  eyes. Fear took over inside her. Her hands
began shaking. Her fingers dug into the wood of the cart,
trying to hold on.
  But she couldn't fight the wave of terror. It
swept through her, numbing her legs and arms until
they were no longer under her control. She felt her
knees give way. Everything went black. She
collapsed, expecting to hit the cold, hard ground.
  Instead, her landing was gentle and velvety. "Mmm
..." she moaned, struggling to open her eyes.
  When she did, a lean, handsome face filled the
sky above her. Square jaw, high cheek-


  bones, steely gray eyes. Definitely not a
bad dream, she thought.
  The earth shifted below her, and Phoebe's head
fell back against something soft and warm. Hey, that
wasn't the earth moving, she realized. It was the
gorgeous guy lifting her, cradling her like a
baby.
  Phoebe closed her eyes for a second, hoping
to shake off the dizzy feeling. Okay, a stranger
with to-die-for good looks is holding me in his arms.
She opened one eye for a quick peek, then closed it
again. And I'm naked. Wrapped in a really soft
cloak or something, but still pretty much
top-to-bottom naked.
  The stranger pushed through the crowd, carrying her
toward his horse cart. "My sincer-est
apologies, especially to the ladies," the man
spoke in a strong, confident voice. Phoebe could
feel his chest vibrating under her ear when he spoke.
  "This was not at all the way I had intended for the good
folk of Salem to make the acquaintance of my dear
sister, simple though she is." He swept past the
three women dressed in black, who were contorting their
necks to get a good view of Phoebe and the
stranger.
  Who was he talking about? Phoebe wondered.
  "Simple she may be," the wax-faced man
said. "Your sister is also quite naked, Mr.
Montgomery."

  Ahhh. So that's his name. Phoebe noted the
information.
  "Indeed, my good friend," Mr. Gorgeous
Montgomery replied. He lifted Phoebe
onto the flat seat of the cart and smoothed out a fold
in the cloth around her, taking his time to see that she was
securely wrapped. "My dear sister, are you
ill? Where are your possessions? Your clothes?"
  Realizing that she was part of this play, Phoebe
stiffened. He needed an answer. They all needed a
big fat answer, and they weren't going to buy the
standard "The demon ate my homework" excuse.
  Leaning forward to Mr. Montgomery, she
whispered, "I was robbed."
  "Robbed!" he repeated in a booming voice for
all to hear.
  A few women gasped. Then the crowd was hushed as
all faces turned toward Phoebe. Feeling their
eyes on her, she pulled the cloak tighter.
  "My poor, dear sister." Mr. Montgomery
buried his face in his hands for a moment, then glanced
up at Phoebe. "After traveling so long and far
to join me, it saddens me to know that conniving thieves
took advantage of your generous, simple
nature."
  "Speaking of thieves," Wax Man piped up,
"I'll have my belt back."
  "Of course," Phoebe said. Standing on the


  wobbly cart, she bit her lower lip as she
struggled to keep her balance and keep her body
hidden under the cloak. At last she slipped the
leather belt and pouch down to her ankles and handed it
to Wax Man. He held it in the air between two
fingers, keeping it as far away from himself as possible.
"Hey! I don't have cooties you know!" Phoebe
defended herself.
  "Where did she come from?" a man in the crowd
growled. "There have been no ships in port for nearly
a fortnight."
  "She has been traveling over land," Mr.
Montgomery explained smoothly. "From the colony
of Jamestown. She was to marry a young man there, but
alas, he was stricken with illness and passed during the
winter months. She tried to stay on with the colony,
however, I fear the good people of Jamestown could not
tolerate her lapses in judgment."
  "Aye. Perhaps we cannot tolerate her lapses in
judgment, either," corn greater-than lained a woman
in the crowd.
  "And you shall not be asked to," Mr. Montgomery
said, bowing to the woman. "Begging your pardon for any
embarrassment you were caused. I am bringing my sister
to the cottage. From this day forward I assure you she
is under my care and protection. She will not be a
burden to this colony."
  "As you say, sir," the woman said with a deep
nod.

  It was quite a story, Phoebe had to admit, and
Mr. Montgomery was quite a storyteller. As
Phoebe watched him play to the crowd, she wondered
why he would go to so much trouble for her, a complete
stranger. A completely naked stranger. Wait,
was that the reason?
  The villagers stood by quietly as Mr.
Montgomery climbed up beside Phoebe and took the
reins. "Good day to you all," he called, and then they
were off, bumping down the rutted lane in the open
coach.
  Phoebe was relieved to be away from the condemning
eyes of the villagers. But as the cart left the
small cluster of cabins and followed the trail into a
dense wooded area, she found it hard to formulate a
plan. Where was this guy taking her? And why? More
important, how was she going to find that demon and
make her way back home?
  Her head was spinning again.
  "We haven't had the honor yet," the man said,
turning those killer gray eyes toward Phoebe.
"I'm Hugh Montgomery. Dare I ask your
name?"
  "Phoebe Halliwell," she said. "That much
I'm sure of."
  "And where are you from, Phoebe Halliwell?
I'll wager it isn't Jamestown."
  Phoebe wondered how much she should tell him.
Saying she was from the twenty-first century might not be
such a good idea. "The truth


  is, everything's sort of hazy right now," she
answered. Doing some quick calculating, she decided
to stick with the robbery story. Hey, it had worked on the
angry mob, right?
  "My head still hurts," she said, rubbing her
temples. "I must have gotten a pretty good whack
when those robbers hit me."
  was "A pretty good whack"?" he repeated, as
if he were trying to learn a foreign language.
  "A bump on the head," she translated. She
would have to remember that they spoke a little differently
here. I
  "So it was truly robbjers who stole your
clothing?" he asked.
  Phoebe nodded. "And ever since they hit me,
my memory is hazy. I just can't think clearly
right now."
  "Perhaps you need rest," he suggested. "Rest and a
cup of root tea."
  "Whatever," Phoebe said. She paused. "You
know, I appreciate the way you handled things back
there in the village. But I have to ask, why did you do
it-especially for a stranger? Those people could have turned
on you. They might have stoned you or something."
  He smiled. "People are not stoned in Salem. We
have far more civilized means of punishment when necessary."
  Phoebe's breath caught in her throat.
"Salem?" she echoed. "I'm in Salem?"
  He nodded. "Salem Village,
Massachusetts."

  Phoebe swallowed. "And, um, what year is
it, please?"
  "Sixteen seventy-six." Hugh answered.
  Phoebe felt the hair on the back of her
neck stand up. Salem in the late 1600's? It
was practically the witch-killing capital of the world
then! Suddenly things were falling into place. The
demon had brought the witch to the witch killers. If
Phoebe hoped to survive long enough to get home,
she'd better watch her step.
  "Are you all right?" Hugh asked. "Your face
suddenly paled."
  Phoebe nodded. "I guess I still feel a little
... strange." More like terrified, she added
silently. But it was better if Hugh didn't know
that, so she steered the conversation back to her earlier question.
  "Why did you help me?" she asked again. "Why
take the risk?"
  Hugh's smile faded as he stared off in the
distance. "A few months ago someone saved me-the
Widow Wentworth. She gave me food and a
place to stay when I had nowhere else to turn. I
shall never forget that act of kindness and have sworn to do the
same whenever I meet someone in need."
  So it's not just a physical thing, Phoebe thought,
warming to Hugh. This Good Samaritan had
potential. Too bad he lived in the wrong
century.


  "Did you ever get a chance to thank this Mrs.
Wentworth?" she asked.
  Hugh smiled again. "I thank her every day. It's
her cottage I am taking you to. I tend to the
animals and garden for her in exchange for food and a
pallet to sleep on in the barn."
  The cart bumped over a rut in the road.
Readjusting her position on the seat, Phoebe
tugged the cloak tighter. "Oh, great. Another
stranger in her home. I bet old Widow
Wentworth is gonna love me."
  s a kind and gener-trees giving way to
  "Indeed," he said. "She : ous woman."
  Soon Phoebe noticed the a clearing.
  "That's her cottage, there," Hugh said, nodding
to a modest log cabin with a thatched roof. A small
barn stood off in the distance, next to a field that had
been recently plowed.
  The horse brought them to the side of the cottage.
Hugh jumped to the ground and hurried around to help
Phoebe out of the cart, treating her as if she were a
piece of breakable china. Not that she minded-she was just
a little surprised. After all, in the twenty-first
century, some guys' idea of romance was a playful
punch in the shoulder.
  Hugh grabbed a covered basket from the back of the
cart and led the way to the cottage door. He
knocked. Phoebe stood up straight.

  Prepare to meet the widow, she coached herself. But
no one answered.
  "She must be out," Hugh said, gently pushing the
door open. "Please ..." He held a hand out for
her to enter first.
  Cautiously, Phoebe stepped into the shadows.
The room was dark and smelled of wood smoke and
honeysuckle. Pleasant smells. In front of
her she saw polished wood furniture carved with
decorative flowers. A colorful rag rug lay
on the dirt floor. The room was cozy and
welcoming. There was a sink in the corner, but no
faucet, which meant no running water. No indoor
plumbing. There also weren't any microwaves or
stoves or ovens. No phones. Definitely no
takeout. Hmmm. This was going to be like camping.
Sort of.
  Hugh took some neatly wrapped packages from the
basket and set them on the pine table. "Dry goods
for the widow," he explained. "Ribbons, buttons,
thread, and a length of calico."
  Phoebe seated herself on a wooden chair and
looked down at her feet.
  "Are you cold?" Hugh asked. "I'll start a
fire."
  Phoebe nodded at Hugh. It could have been
worse, she figured. At least she didn't
time-rift into the Arctic. From the planting and the mild
weather, she guessed that it was springtime here in
Salem, just as it was back in San Francisco.


  Hugh pushed another log onto the fire.
"That'll get the kettle to boil," he said, brushing
off his hands. "I'll be outside splitting more
wood. Stay here and rest a while. The others shall be
back soon."
  "The others?" Phoebe asked.
  "The widow and her daughter," Hugh said as he
headed out the door.
  Pulling her feet onto the chair, Phoebe
stared up at the thatched roof. She groaned. "What
am I doing here?"
  She leaned forward, plunking her head and arms on
the table. One arm accidentally knocked into a clay
bowl, which clanked. "Don't break the widow's
china," she scolded herself.
  She peered into the bowl, which stood alone on the
large pine table. Inside was a charm-a gold
piece in the shape of a crescent moon. Curious,
Phoebe picked up the charm and-wham!
  Her thoughts spilled into another place and time as a
vision took over her consciousness.
  Fire. The flames were everywhere, shooting up to the
sky.
  They danced and waved, wrapping a woman in their
wispy embrace. She was young, blond, beautiful.
A steely courage shone in her eyes. She was
murmuring something. What was it? Around the woman's
neck Phoebe saw the charm, the crescent moon
gleaming in the flames.

  A shudder rippled through Phoebe's body as she
recognized the woman. It was her ancestor
Melinda Warren. She had once appeared as a
ghost to help the Charmed Ones, and Phoebe had seen
many of her spells in The Book of Shadows.
Melinda was the original witch in Phoebe's
bloodline.
  The vision ended as the flames rose to a towering
height around Melinda. Melinda Warren had been
burned at the stake in Salem in 1654. Just
twenty-two years earlier, Phoebe remembered.
So what was her charm doing in this cottage?
  Had the Widow Wentworth had a hand in Melinda
Warren's death?

  1 leel SO JU-ILTY, Piper said as she
followed her older sister through the doorway of
Halliwell Manor. The old, heavy door
swung shut behind them. It closed with a click. The
sound usually made Piper feel safe. Today it
sounded so final. "It's like we just left Phoebe
behind."
  "We are taking action," Prue said firmly.
"We are going to march up to the attic, find a
spell in The Book of Shadows, and get our sister
back. We're taking the bull by the horns. Or,
actually, the warlock by the horns."
  "I'm glad someone's in control." Piper's
boots clicked on the shiny hardwood floors.
Since their grandmother had left them Halliwell
Manor in her will, the sisters had done their best
to keep it sparkling, from the

  colorful stained-glass windows to the elegant
chandelier. The sprawling Victorian had warmth,
charm, and, as the girls had discovered, magic lurking
in every corner.
  Wasting no time, Prue and Piper threw off their
coats, hung them on the rack, and headed up the
wide, sweeping staircase. On the second story
was a more modest staircase that led straight up to the
attic. Inside the attic, as always, lay The
Book of Shadows.
  Piper crossed the dusty room to light some
candles. Kneeling beside a low, round table, she
struck a match and touched the wicks. The flames
cast dancing glimmers of light over the raw wood
and exposed beams of the attic. Sometimes the girls
used candles for their spells. Now Piper lit them,
hoping that the light would ward off the horrible chill
she'd been fighting ever since Phoebe had
disappeared.
  "Okay, let's see." Prue was already leaning
over The Book of Shadows, flipping through its
ancient pages. "We have a spell to chase away
rats. A chant for the summer solstice-put that on
your calendar."
  "Anything about retrieving a vanished sister?"
Piper swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.
Though she was tempted to join Prue at the book,
she made herself sit down on the couch. When Prue
was in command mode, she didn't appreciate being
crowded.
  "Give me a minute," Prue said, running her


  finger down a page. She flipped a few pages
ahead, frowning.
  Piper bit her lower lip pensively. Over the
past year she'd spent hours combing through The Book of
Shadows, reading and studying. But it wasn't always
easy to find what you were looking for. Consulting it
wasn't like punching in a keyword for a computer search
or looking up a term in an encyclopedia.
  "Whoa!" Prue cried suddenly. "I think
I've got something here. It's a tracking spell."
  Piper stood to read over Prue's shoulder.
  "Yes! This is it!" Prue pointed to a series
of lines scrawled in an old-fashioned handwriting.
"It's perfect. Let's see what we need."
She read from The Book of Shadows:
  "A trace of paternity, Clothing so dear, A
lock of hair To track far and near."
  Piper counted off the items on her fingers. "A
Dad thing, Phoebe's clothes, and her hair. How
are we going to get that if she's not here?"
  Tapping the book, Prue paused thoughtfully.
"Let's see. ..." She raised her hand to point
downstairs. "Her hairbrush! It must have a few
strands of Phoebe's hair in it."
  Without another word the two sisters hurried

  down to the second story. While Prue headed
toward Phoebe's bedroom, Piper went down to the
vestibule, where she'd dropped her backpack on
the way in. Looping the strap over her arm, she
ran back up the stairs. She checked her watch as
she tore down the hall to Phoebe's room.
Three hours till the Saturday evening rush was on
at P3, Piper's new club. She'd have to start
getting ready to go, if she was going. It was awful to have
to be responsible for something when your whole world was
falling apart.
  "I got the clothes," Piper said breathlessly.
  Prue stood at Phoebe's dresser, sifting
through a stack of magazines. "And I have the hair,"
she said, nodding toward Phoebe's hairbrush on the
bed. "But the paternity thing throws me. I mean, we
don't have anything from Dad. Why would we?"
  "Well, obviously you wouldn't," Piper told
her sister. "You probably burned all his stuff
years ago."
  "I didn't burn it," Prue argued. "I just
never saved anything."
  The subject of their father was a sore point,
especially between Prue and Phoebe. As far as
Prue was concerned, he was a nonperson. He had
walked out of the Halliwell girls' lives when they
were very young, so Prue had written him out of her life
entirely. But Phoebe had always argued that Prue
was wrong about their dad.


  Piper tried to stay out of their disagreement, although
she occasionally found herself missing their dad, wishing she
could connect with him.
  "Okay, Piper. I'm reading the look on your
face. You have something of Dad's, don't you?"
Prue challenged.
  Piper smirked.
  "What is it?" Prue demanded.
  "1 had a photo of him as a teenager. But I
gave it to Phoebe and-was
  "And she never gave it back," Prue finished for
her. Frustrated, she smacked Phoebe's brush
against her hand. "We are so close to getting this
spell done and finding Phoebe. Leave it to Dad
to screw things up all over again!"
  "Okay, okay, let's stay calm here and
think." Piper sank onto Phoebe's bed.
"Maybe there's a picture of him in one of the
family photo albums."
  Prue shook her head. "Mom got rid of
those."
  Piper held up her hand. "Wedding ring?
Jewelry? Letters?"
  Prue kept shaking her head. "Dad didn't
write us any letters, remember?"
  "There's got to be something." Piper's eyes
wandered over the ticket stubs tucked into the frame of
Phoebe's mirror. They were mostly tickets from
dates to shows, amusement parks, and football
games.

  Football! Piper sprang to her feet.
"I've got it!"
  Prue watched as she opened the door of
Phoebe's wardrobe and reached up to a box on the
top shelf.
  "I saw her pull this out of her trunk of stuff
in the attic." Piper lifted a football out of the
box. "This belonged to Dad. It was autographed
by Johnny Unitas, the Golden Arm."
  Cocking one brow, Prue eyed the football.
"Right now I don't care if it's autographed
by Elvis. If it belonged to Dad, we're using
it." She tucked the football under her arm and
grabbed the hairbrush. "Let's go," she said,
heading toward the attic.
  "Right behind you," Piper answered.
  In the attic they began assembling the ingredients
of the spell on the low table. Piper chose a wide,
shallow ceramic bowl to hold the ingredients while
Prue pulled a tangled mass of hair from
Phoebe's hairbrush. She lined the bowl with
Phoebe's soiled leather jacket, then placed the
wad of hair on top. Once the football was
nudged under the collar of the jacket, they were ready
to begin.
  Piper felt herself tense with urgency and
anticipation. Would this spell bring Phoebe back?
No, it was only supposed to help them locate
her, but it was a start. It had to work.
  Her heart was beating hard in her chest as she joined
hands with Prue. It didn't feel the

  same without Phoebe completing the circle, but they
pushed on.
  "Okay." Piper's voice was solemn.
"Let's recite the whole spell."
  Together, they chanted:
  "A trace of paternity, Clothing so dear, A
lock of hair To track far and near. Find our
Phoebe, Point the way. Track her spirit, Find
her today."
  Piper glanced across the table at Prue's shadowed
face. Nothing had happened. Did they do something
wrong?
  "Let's repeat the last partst" Prue said.
  was 'Find our Phoebe," was they chanted in
unison. was "Point the way. Track her spirit..
still"
  A clean, soft wind blew through the attic.
  was Tind her tdst was the sisters finished chanting.
  The wind swirled around the objects in the bowl.
The football tilted up on one end, then balanced
in the wind, spinning wildly. The jacket rose
high above the table, then came alive, as if worn
by an invisible mannequin. The sleeves flapped
madly, pointing in every direction. Was the jacket
pointing the way to Phoebe?

  The ball of Phoebe's hair floated into the
air, then burst into flames. The smell stung
Piper's nose, and she pressed her sleeve to her
face. Across the table Prue coughed, waving the
smoke away.
  Just as suddenly as it had kicked up, the wind died
down. The jacket fell into the bowl, and the football
rolled to its side and bounced onto the floor.
  "What did that mean?" Piper asked, backing
away from the odd display.
  Prue immediately consulted The Book of Shadows.
"Okay, it says the clothing may point the way, in
one clear direction."
  "But it didn't," Piper observed. "That
jacket pointed north, south, east, west, and
everywhere in between."
  "Which means ..." Prue consulted the book again.
"It means that the person being tracked is not near.
Right here it says, 'If the clothing dances
indecisively, the spell reveals that the dear one's
soul is far, far away." his
  Piper sank down onto the hard attic floor
and pulled the football into her lap. A wave of
nausea washed over her. "Tell me that doesn't
mean what I think it means," she said quietly.
  "What about the burning hair?" Prue said,
flipping to the next page in the book. "That's got
to mean something."
  "Isn't fire usually a bad sign?" Piper
asked.


  When Prue didn't answer, Piper turned
toward her sister. "Prue, what is it?"
  Tears glimmered in Prue's blue eyes as she
stared down at the book.
  "What does it say, Prue?" Piper dropped
the football and went to slip an arm around her
sister's shoulders. "Tell me."
  Prue shook her head furiously, swallowing
back a sob. "It doesn't say anything. It's
just... I mean, what if Phoebe is ..."
  "No," Piper snapped, shaking her sister by the
shoulders. "No way. It can't be. Right? Right?"
  But Prue didn't answer. She just closed her
eyes. A single tear rolled down one ivory
cheek.
  Biting her lower lip, Piper refused to say the
word that Prue had been avoiding. Neither of them could
say it.
  But they were both thinking it.
  Dead. What if Phoebe was dead?

  T. ..
  llie V1S10I1 of Melinda Warren
vanished, leaving Phoebe shaking. She dropped the
half-moon charm back into the clay bowl and buried
her face in the soft cloak enveloping her.
  What did the vision mean? If this was 1676,
Melinda had been dead for twenty-two years. So
why did the charm touch off such a strong vision?
Phoebe's visions always came for a reason. They
usually meant she was supposed to do something about whatever
she saw. So what was she supposed to do about this one?
  Phoebe was still trying to figure out the vision when the
door swung open and a child's laugh floated in.
  "I told you, Mama," the young voice


  chirped. "I can pick more wildflowers than
anyone. And the egg in my pocket didn't get
smashed at all. Not even when I ran."
  Straightening, Phoebe was surprised to see a
little girl who couldn't have been more than five enter the
house. A woman who seemed close to Phoebe's
age followed behind. Both were blond, fine-boned, and
bright as a ray of sunshine. Phoebe blinked. This
young mother couldn't be the Widow Wentworth, could she?
  Somehow Phoebe had expected an arthritic,
snaggletoothed hag, not someone so young and gorgeous.
  "It's luck that saved the egg, not skill," the
woman said. She glanced up and noticed Phoebe.
  "Oh, goodness, did we wake you? Hugh told
me you were in need of rest, and here we come bustling
in." She hurried over to Phoebe. "I'm
Prudence Wentworth, and this is my daughter,
Cassandra."
  Phoebe smiled. Yup. This is the widow all
right. Funny, she's got the same name as Prue.
"My name is Phoebe Halliwell," she
introduced herself.
  "Is it true about the robbers?" the little girl
squeaked. "Truly, did they take all your
clothes?"
  "Cassandra," the woman said firmly, "back
to the henhouse to collect the rest of the eggs."
  "Yes, Mama," the little girl said obediently,

  but her curious eyes never left Phoebe as she
backed out the door and ran off.
  "My apologies. My daughter is very
inquisitive," Prudence explained. "You've
suffered a terrible misfortune, but you are welcome
here. Are you hungry? Or would you like a cup of tea
to warm you?"
  "Tea would be wonderful," Phoebe said as the
woman picked up the clay bowl and took a moment
to touch the charm inside. "That's lovely," Phoebe
said, seizing the opportunity. "I mean, the charm.
Where did you get it?"
  Prudence stared off sadly. Turning away from
Phoebe, she placed the bowl and charm on a side
table, between two candles.
  That almost looks like a witch's altar, Phoebe
thought.
  "The charm belonged to my mother," Prudence finally
answered.
  Her mother? Melinda Warren was her mother? Is it
possible? Phoebe wondered. She ran the numbers
in her head. If Prudence was born sometime before
Melinda was killed, in 1654, that would make
Prudence at least twenty-two, and that would make her
Phoebe's ancestor-and Prue's namesake!
  But maybe Prudence was lying about where she got the
charm. Phoebe couldn't be sure. The big family
reunion would have to wait until she was.
  "This should last you through tomorrow,"

  Hugh said, stomping in with his arms full of wood.
He placed it beside the hearth. "Ah, I see you
two have acquainted yourselves. I'll make us some
tea." Using a forked wooden stick, he lifted the
kettle from its spot over the fire and lowered it to the
dirt floor.
  "Not for me, thank you," Prudence said quickly.
"Forgive me, but I am sick to death of root
tea."
  "But you must," he insisted. "I won't let you
fall ill like the others."
  "You are too kind, Mr. Montgomery,"
Prudence said.
  He crossed the room and touched her hand gently.
"I disagree. It is you who are most deserving,"
he told Prudence.
  Hel-lo! Major romance vibe here, Phoebe
realized. Then she frowned. Wait a minute.
Weren't those gray eyes sparkling for me just a little
while ago?
  She took a deep breath, trying to rethink things.
Maybe she'd been wrong about Hugh being interested in
her.
  Still, Phoebe wasn't usually mistaken about these
things. When it came to love vibes, she prided
herself on being tuned to the right frequency.
  Noticing that Phoebe was observing the exchange,
Prudence blushed and stepped away from Hugh.
"Look at you, wrapped in Hugh's cloak, poor
dear. Truly, there must be

  something in my trunk that would fit you. I shall find you
a dress at once."
  Hugh clasped Prudence's hand, pulling her
back to his side. "I told Phoebe you were a
generous soul, especially toward unfortunates who have
nowhere to go. Phoebe is one such person. Could you
find it in your heart to let her stay for a while? She
might earn her keep by doing a few chores around the
house."
  "Yes, of course. We would never turn away a
soul in need," Prudence said, her blue eyes
alight with concern. Something about those blue eyes
stirred feelings in Phoebe. They were so much like her
sister Prue's eyes-smart, calm, caring. It
made Phoebe wish more than ever that she could be back
home.
  "First things first," Prudence said. "I must fetch
Phoebe a dress." She disappeared through a
doorway toward the back of the common room.
  Whistling softly through his teeth, Hugh set out some
clay mugs and poured water from the kettle. Then he
shook an odd assortment of dried scraggly
twigs onto a piece of thin cloth and tied the
cloth into a tiny sack.
  "What are you making?" Phoebe asked.
  "Root tea for Prudence," he said, dunking the
sack into one of the mugs. "Would you like some?" An
unpleasant scent arose as the roots steeped. It
reminded Phoebe of wet socks.
  "No, thanks. Regular tea is just fine for
me."


  "Prudence needs her root tea," Hugh said,
taking a pinch of ground tea leaves from a small
cloth sack. "There's been a dreadful sickness in
a nearby village, and Prudence, who often tends
the sick, was exposed to it. Root tea wards off the
sickness."
  If the smell doesn't make you sick first,
Phoebe thought.
  Hugh placed a mug of regular tea in front
of her, and Phoebe adjusted the cloak so that she could
slip one hand out to lift her cup.
  As she moved she noticed that Hugh's eyes were
all over her, and his mouth curved in a slight grin.
  "My cloak has never been so happy," he
said, "covering such precious things."
  Raising one eyebrow, Phoebe leveled a
skeptical look at him. The guy was totally
flirting with her! What was His deal? Was he
Prudence's main squeeze or wasn't he?
  "I've found two dresses that might fit you, but
you must choose between them," Prudence announced,
appearing in the doorway. "Come and see."
  With a stern look at Hugh, Phoebe stood up
and wrapped the cloak so tightly she nearly had
to waddle into the back room. It was one thing to fall
into the arms of a steely-eyed rescuer. It was something
else to move in on another woman's man,
especially when that woman might be your ancestor.

  Inside the back room, Prudence had laid out
two dresses-one black and gray, the other a
navy so dark that it might as well have been black.
Drab or drabber? Phoebe thought, but finally she
agreed with Prudence that the navy suited her better.
  Prudence slipped out and returned with the kettle
and a pitcher. Mixing the steaming water with cold water
in a wide bowl, Prudence said, "You can use this
to wash up."
  "Thank you," Phoebe said. "For everything."
  "You're quite welcome," Prudence assured her.
"I'll be back to help you with the dress in a few
moments."
  Phoebe picked up the wash rag Prudence had
left her and began washing the dust off her naked
body. She'd gotten pretty gritty crouching there
in the middle of the village-another bone to pick with the
demon when she caught up with him.
  Somewhat cleaner, Phoebe examined the clothing
Prudence had laid out on the bed. There was a
camisole and a long petticoat, both made from
coarse muslin, and thick wool stockings. Oh,
well, they might be scratchy but they were definitely
underwear.
  She put on all the items, then slipped the
navy dress over her head. Phoebe stared down
at herself, puzzled. The dress fit just fine around
her shoulders but was rather wide at the waist.


  Had Prudence worn this dress when she was
pregnant with Cassandra? Great, Phoebe thought,
maternity wear!
  The door to the back room opened then, and
Prudence came in, a needle and thread in one hand.
  "Turn around," she said with a smile. "I'll
take in the waist a bit."
  "Thanks," Phoebe said. She turned around and
grabbed hold of the thick wooden bedpost to steady
herself.
  Prudence gasped. "What happened to your fingers?"
she asked.
  "My fingers?" Phoebe let go of the bedpost and
studied her fingertips. They seemed perfectly
normal to her.
  "No, the other side." Gently, Prudence
turned over her hands. "Your fingernails are
bleeding."
  For a second Phoebe didn't get it. Then
she realized. Her manicure! No one here
polished their fingernails. Prudence had never seen
shiny, bright red nails.
  "They're not bleeding," Phoebe assured her.
"They're . . . painted." But Prudence seemed
baffled, so she improvised. "I was helping to paint
a door red and got paint all over my hands. It
washed off my skin but not my nails."
  Prudence stared at her blankly. "Are you sure
it doesn't pain you?" she asked.

  "Positive," Phoebe assured her. She
made a mental note to keep her hands hidden around
the other villagers.
  "Very well," Prudence said. "Let me help you
with your dress then."
  As Prudence took a few tucks in the waist
of the dress she chatted about Cassandra and the huge
help that Hugh had been since he'd arrived in
Salem.
  Clean and clothed, Phoebe began to feel
better. She'd been lucky to connect with Prudence,
who struck her as a warm, capable woman. Are you,
like, my great-great-great-great-grandmother? Phoebe
wondered as Prudence struggled to twist Phoebe's
hair into a bun.
  Phoebe wanted so much to believe it was true.
For one thing, it would mean that Prudence was a witch,
too. She'd know how to navigate the hostile
villagers. And for another-Phoebe's eyes widened
at the thought-The Book of Shadows would have been
passed down to Prudence from Melinda. It would be right
here in this house!
  Phoebe felt her heart beat faster. Maybe
she'd be able to get herself out of this mess, after all.
  "There," Prudence said, putting down the brush.
"Your hair is neat again, and the dress looks fine
on you. Is there anything else you need?"
  Just some help decimating a demon, Phoebe


  answered silently. She thought for another moment.
If she revealed her true identity and told
Prudence all about the demon, Prudence could
definitely help. Maybe she knew a spell that
could whack that demon and send Phoebe rifting
home.
  "There's something you need to knowst" Phoebe said,
her heart racing with excitement as she sat down on
the bed, facing Prudence. "It's about me ... who
I am."
  Prudence seated herself beside Phoebe. "Yes,
Phoebe?" his
  Where do I start? Phoelj greater-than every
wondered, staring into Prudence's curious blue
eyes.
  "It's this thing about the robbers," Phoebe began.
  Prudence cocked her head to one side, listening.
  "I'm not really-was Phoebe stalled in
midsen-tence.
  I can't do this! I shouldn't be saying this. What if
Prudence is your typical Salem Puritan-the
kind who believed witches deserve to be killed?
  "Please, go on," Prudence said, squeezing her
shoulder gently. "Don't be frightened."
  But Phoebe couldn't. Instead, she touched her
forehead, muttering, "I was just going to say, I'm not
really sure of all the details of my past,
maybe because of this bump on my head. I mean, it's
scary, but while I'm sorting every-

  thing out, it really helps to know that I can stay here.
Thank you."
  "You are most welcome," Prudence said, patting
Phoebe's shoulder. "And you may stay as long as you
like. I think we're going to become good friends,
Phoebe Halliwell."
  Don't get too attached, Phoebe thought, because
if things go according to plan, I'm out of here on the next
time rift.
  "It must be hard to lose your memory of the past,"
Prudence went on sympathetically. "Especially
since it is the actions in our past that shape our
future."
  Phoebe sat up straighter at that. She'd seen
enough time travel movies to know that Prudence was right.
She knew what could happen if she made the wrong
move: She could change the course of the future-the
future that her sisters were living in right now!
  Her sisters. She wished they were here to help her.
But they weren't. And with one wrong move, she might
obliterate their very existence!

  1 he scent of honeysuckle and new grass
  the air. In the distance, birds chirped as
Phoebe rolled over. All signs pointed to a
beautiful spring morning.
  Ouch. This was definitely not her own bed. What was
she sleeping on-a sack of corn?
  Opening her eyes, she remembered just how far from
home she was. "Phoebe, you're not in Kansas
anymore," she muttered as she propped herself up
on one elbow. "You're in Prudence Wentworth's
bedroom, sleeping on a straw mattress, in
another century."
  Moving her feet under the blanket, Phoebe
wished she were home between the crisp sheets of her own
bed, but she had a long way to travel before that could
happen. First she

  eo
  had to find that demon and banish him. The fact that
he'd managed to strand her in the past was proof that he
was major danger. Plus if he'd yanked her out
of her own time, he'd definitely try to block her
way back, unless she dealt with him first. Only then
could she head home-if home still existed. No
pressure, she thought as she stretched her legs and
yawned.
  Phoebe noticed that the two beds across the
room-the simple wood-framed bed where Prudence
slept and the small child's bed that Cassandra used-were
empty. This was her chance.
  The night before, as she was falling asleep,
Phoebe had thought of a surefire way to confirm that
Prudence was who she claimed to be: find The Book
of Shadows in the house. If Prudence was Melinda
Warren's daughter, the book had to be there.
  Quickly she slipped out of bed to search. The dirt
floor was damp and cold, and she hopped from one
foot to another, shivering. Finally she grabbed a
shawl from the edge of Prudence's bed and wrapped it
around her shoulders. Lifting the mattress, she
looked under and around the bed. Nothing. She moved on
to a chest of drawers. She was lifting a stack of
linens out of a drawer when she heard voices in the
other room.
  "Phoebe?" Prudence called.
  The blood rushed to Phoebe's face. She

  quickly tucked the linens back into the drawer,
closed it, and spun around.
  "Coming!" she called back. She'd have to search for the
book another time.
  "Good morning to you," Hugh's voice boomed
cheerfully.
  Phoebe, clothed once again in Prudence's
dress, stepped out into the common room. Hugh sat
by the fire, sipping a cup of tea. Cassandra sat
at the table, quietly rolling a tangle of wool
yarn into a ball while her mother opened a steel
grate and removed two thick slabs of bread that
had been toasting on the fire.
  "I've already fed the chickens, harvested the corn,
and milked the cows," Hugh added, winking at
Phoebe. "All before you opened your brown eyes."
  The cocky grin on his face annoyed Phoebe.
He was on the verge of flirting with her again-this time right
in front of Prudence!
  Choosing to ignore him, Phoebe turned
to Prudence, who was setting out a plate of toast and a
baked apple for her. "He's joking, isn't he?"
Phoebe asked as she sat down and bit into a thick
piece of toast. "You don't really have cows, do
you?"
  "We do," Prudence said without a hint of a
smile. "But the corn won't be harvested until
July or August." She held up a pitcher and

  peered inside. "We need more water," she sighed.
  "Prudence, sit down," Hugh said gently.
"Finish your root tea. Phoebe can fetch the
water."
  "There are plenty of chores for Phoebe to do,"
Prudence snapped. "And sleeping the morning away
is not one of them."
  Whoa, Phoebe thought. That was a big change from
yesterday's "You need your rest" slogan.
  "Mmm! I can geek wadder," Phoebe said over
a mouthful of toast. She wasn't sure why
Prudence was in such a bad mood this morning, but she
didn't want to make it any worse than it already
was. She swallowed her toast. "Why don't I
just take this to go," she declared. She picked up a
half-slice and dropped it into the pocket of her
apron. No one said a word as she picked up two
wooden buckets and headed out the door.
  Outside the sun was already wanning the damp earth.
Phoebe took two steps, paused, then headed
back to the cabin. Pushing the door open, she called
out, "Okay, where do I get the water from?"
  "The creek," Hugh answered. "Go past the
chicken coop, right at the barn, down the hill, and
over the rocks."
  "Right," she said, backing out a second time.
Man! This Colonial thing definitely had its
glitches.


  Hugh's directions were easy to follow, and
Phoebe was able to finish her toast as she made her
way down the hill. But once the buckets were
filled with water they were incredibly heavy. She
struggled up the hill, her hands hurting, water
sloshing onto the hem of her dress. The muscles
in her arms were beginning to ache when a sound came from behind
her.
  Glancing over her shoulder, Phoebe saw him-the
hideous demon who had dragged her to this place.
He stood a few feet behind her, his gruesome green
skin oozing in the sun.
  Phoebe dropped the buckets and stumbled
backward.
  "I scared you," he said with a slobbery smile.
  "Yeah, well, it's rude to sneak up on people
while they're fetching water," she said. She rolled
her own eyes at her words. Oh, that would really wound
the demon.
  The truth was, she was scared and quaking in her
boots. But this was the chance she'd been waiting for, the
opportunity to banish the demon forever. Too bad
she wasn't ready. She didn't have a spell or
a curse or even a stick to fend him off with.
  "Don't be afraid," the demon growled. His
putrid flesh quivered as he spoke. "I'm not
going to hurt you. At least, not right now. I have a
long-term plan that's far more effective."

  "I'll bet you do," Phoebe said.
  "I'm planting the seeds even now," he
explained. "Seeds that will take root and grow into a
tangled, poisonous vine. A vicious thing that will
bring pain and torture to you and all future generations
of your family." He paused, letting his words sink
in. "Before I am through, you will all be creatures of
evil!"
  Immediately, Phoebe thought of her sisters. And her
mother. And Gram. Could this lowlife demon actually
do that? Did he have the power to warp generations of women
in her family?
  "In the end, I will destroy you," he promised.
"Slowly. Thoroughly."
  Fighting off a shiver of fear, Phoebe stepped
back. She wasn't going to be stupid enough
to underestimate him a second time.
  A low growl emerged from somewhere deep inside the
demon, making Phoebe's heart thud in her chest.
He pointed a twisted green finger at her. With a
whoosh, a line of fire shot straight at her
feet. She leaped backward, lifting her skirt.
The flames had missed her, but she could feel the
supernatural warmth of them through the leather of
Prudence's boots.
  "I thought you said you weren't going to be any trouble
today," she reminded him.
  "I lied." With that he pointed beyond Phoebe, to the
top of the hill. Like a marksman he shot a line of
fire into a haystack by Prudence's small barn.


  Phoebe watched in horror as the flames
caught and immediately shot up, swallowing the small
mound of hay. She ran up the hill, as a small
bundle of embers separated from the heap, quickly
becoming airborne in the morning breeze.
  The wind fed the flames, rolling the embers over
the dirt-right toward the barn.
  Phoebe froze, then ran back for the two
buckets of water. From the corner of her eye, she
saw the wind carry an ember up to the roof of the barn.
  The thatched roof.
  Oh, no! Every structure on Prudence's
property had a roof made of straw and walls of
wood, Phoebe realized-perfect materials for a
mega-bonfire. If Phoebe didn't stop the
fire now, everything Prudence owned could be gone in
minutes!
  Phoebe's heart hammered as she struggled with the
heavy water buckets. If only she could freeze
time like Piper until she doused this fire!
  The wind wasn't helping. It seemed to be taking
orders from the demon. With a whoosh it set the burning
embers down on the edge of the barn's thatched roof.
Phoebe's eyes widened with horror. "No!" she
shouted, forcing her legs to run. But shouting at the
fire was as effective as shouting at the demon.
  The muscles in Phoebe's shoulders and biceps
burned. Black smoke rose from the

  scorched grass, stinging her eyes and throat.
Coughing, she blinked back tears. She could feel
heat on her face and hands. Still, she forced herself
closer to the barn.
  "Aaaaa!" Phoebe jumped back as a spark
caught close to her feet, only inches from the long
skirt of the navy dress. Just then the door of the
cottage flew open. Prudence and Hugh rushed
outside, then froze in shock at the sight of the
rapidly spreading fire.
  "You did this?" Prudence shouted at Phoebe.
Her face was taut with rage, and her eyes held a
wicked gleam.
  Phoebe shook her head furiously, but there was
no time to explain.
  "Stay away, you horrid girl!" Prudence
shouted, snatching a bucket of water out of
Phoebe's aching hands. "Stay away from my
property!"
  She emptied the bucket over a patch of grass
burning close to the barn. Then, turning her back
on Phoebe, she stormed over to grab some tools
leaning against the barn. Hugh was already there, thrusting a
pitchfork at the burning straw on the roof. Phoebe
rushed over to help as he extracted a burning
corner of the thatch and knocked it to the ground, clear
of the building. Following Prudence's lead,
Phoebe grabbed a shovel and helped beat out the
flames.
  As they worked, Phoebe noticed another


  ember that had rolled against the barn, setting fire
to the timber. She grabbed the second bucket of
water and lugged it over. Then she realized that reaching
the source of the fire meant she had to lean right into the
flames.
  Just do it quickly, she told herself. Scrunching her
eyes shut against the smoke, she leaned over and
emptied the heavy bucket. Beneath her the fire
sizzled and smoked. For a second she felt the
blazing heat on her skin, and smelled the fabric of
her dress being singed. Then she was running from the
fire, the empty bucket still in her hand.
  "We need more water!" Prudence shouted.
  Coughing and choking, Phoebe nodded. She raced
for the creek, filled the bucket, and lugged it back.
Then she did the same with the second bucket. She
kept fetching water until the fire was under control.
  Phoebe blinked. The crisis was over, and the barn
was safe. Relieved, she turned to Prudence. The
woman was shaking with rage.
  "Have you gone mad?" Prudence demanded, kicking
an empty bucket at Phoebe's feet. "I
send you for water and you set the barn afire!"
  "I did not start that fire," Phoebe shot
back. "And I nearly scorched myself trying to put
it out." She wished she didn't sound so angry, but
by now her nerves were fried.
  "I'm sure it was a mistake," Hugh said,

  holding up his hands like a preacher. "Patience,
dear Prudence. What can we expect of a woman with
such a simple mind that she cannot even remember her
own past?"
  Phoebe wasn't sure if she was insulted or
glad to be defended. On the other hand, she couldn't
say much in her own defense. Unless she could be
sure that Prudence was a witch, demon name-dropping
was not a good idea in seventeenth-century Salem.
  "A simple mind, indeed," Prudence said,
leaning the shovel against the side of the barn. She pushed
back a strand of blond hair that had become
unpinned. Her blue eyes were icy cold as she
glared at Phoebe. "One more mistake, and it will be
you who is burning, Phoebe Halliwell."
  Watching Prudence march back into the house,
Phoebe sighed. Something was wrong with that woman.
Bad mood or not, she was totally different from the
kind, generous spirit who had nearly adopted Phoebe
yesterday.
  "You're welcome," Phoebe muttered under her
breath, stamping on a glowing ember. She grabbed a
rake and pushed some of the still glowing embers farther from the
barn.
  "Don't mind her," Hugh told her.
  Phoebe was bending down over the rake when she
felt him press against her. He slipped his arm
around her waist, leaning over to whisper in her ear,
"A lovely young thing such as you shouldn't be raking
coals."


  "Hello?" Phoebe squirmed, wriggling out of
his grasp. "What do you think you're doing?" She
couldn't believe he was coming on to her this way. And with
Prudence barely out of sight!
  Hugh's gray eyes were fixed on her body,
making Phoebe want to squirm even more. Was this
guy slime, or what?
  "Playing hard to get?" he asked with a grin. "The
game is part of the pleasure, isn't it? But you
don't have to be coy with me. Do we not know each other
well? My eyes will never forget the sight of you-every
inch of your sweet, soft skin-in the middle of the
village."
  "Well, maybe it's time that you got a little
temporary amnesia," Phoebe said, backing
away. Her fingers closed over the rake, itching
to lift it up and give Hugh a well-deserved
whack on the head. Down, girl, she told herself.
He's the least of your worries right now. Instead,
she said, "You know, I'll bet Prudence is really
upset right now. Why don't you go cheer her up?
Make her some smelly root tea or something."
  "An excellent idea," Hugh said, nodding
slyly. "We must keep Prudence happy if
we're going to be allowed to play our games."
  The only game we're going to play is
hide-and-seek, Phoebe thought. I'm going
to hide, and you're not going to find me, you worm!
  With a smoldering look, Hugh turned and headed
into the cottage.

  CHARMED
  One problem down, another lurking in the shadows.
Phoebe leaned on the rake and checked the
horizon. Where would that demon pop up next? And
just what was his plan?
  Whatever the evil, there was one thing she knew for
sure. She had to stop him. Before he found her again.

  Pr
  me slapped "greater-than
  f
  a twenty-dollar bill into the palm of the delivery
guy and slammed the heavy front door in his face.
She had no patience for niceties like hello and
goodbye.
  She hurried into the kitchan, ready to devour the
food. It seemed that lately she was hungry all
the time. Maybe it had to do with the empty feeling she'd
had inside ever since Phoebe had disappeared a
few days ago. Too bad the smell wafting from the
bags wasn't the greatest.
  "What did you order?" she snapped at Piper,
who sat at the kitchen table, flipping through a food
magazine.
  "I told you I was getting Chinese," Piper
answered.

  "And I told you I wasn't in the mood for
Chinese." Prue slammed the bags onto the table
and folded her arms.
  "No," Piper argued. "You said you didn't
want sweet and sour. This is hot and sour. There
is a difference."
  "Whatever," Prue said. She yanked at the
kitchen drawer-too hard. It flew out and onto the
floor. Silverware clattered onto the tiles.
  "I told you that drawer was broken," Piper said.
  "And I told you to get it fixed," Prue
answered. She stepped over the drawer, kicked a
pile of spoons aside, and sat at the table. Who
needed silverware when chopsticks would work just fine?
"Might as well dig in," she said, pulling a
pair of chopsticks out of one bag.
  "Aren't you going to clean that up?" Piper asked.
  Opening a quart of steaming rice, Prue shrugged.
"What's the point? The drawer is broken."
  was "The drawer is brokenst was Piper mimicked
her. "like that makes it all right to just leave it there?"
  "Do you have to argue about everything?" Prue asked.
She bit into a crunchy egg roll. The past few
days had been a chain of petty arguments with Piper,
and Prue was getting sick of it. Piper was just going
to have to stop being a cranky little whiner. "What is
wrong with you anyway?" she demanded.


  "Nothing!" Piper insisted, jabbing a piece of
kung pao chicken. She nibbled the food, then
slammed down her chopsticks. "What am I
saying? The answer is everything. Everything is wrong,
okay?"
  Prue licked her fingers. Piper could be so
melodramatic. "Well, that's nothing new. Things
just never go right for poor, poor Piper, do they?"
  "Oh, come on, Prue. You know that we've been
snapping at each other ever since Phoebe
disappeared."
  "True," Prue agreed. Not that it was her
fault. But who was supposed to pick up the pieces
and put everything back together again? Time and again, the great
problem-solver of the Halliwell sisters was Prue.
Well, she was getting sick of doing all the work.
  "You know," Piper began, "this whole mess started
with you. You're the one who just had to have a new pair of
boots. You couldn't have waited another day, could you?
If you had, none of this would ever have happened!"
  "Me?" Prue wanted to toss the cold sesame
noodles right down Piper's shirt. "Oh, sure.
So it's my fault you couldn't stand your ground when that
warlock tossed that wooden crate at you?"
  "I was okay!" Piper insisted. "You could have gone
after Phoebe."
  Prue glared at her sister. "Don't even think

  about blaming me, Piper, because I'm not going to be
held responsible for this one, okay?" She pushed
away from the table and crossed to the counter, silverware
scattering as she walked.
  "What's happening to you?" Piper's voice
trembled. "When did you get so harsh?"
  Oh, please! Prue thought. If Piper broke
down in tears one more time, she was going to scream. It
wasn't easy living with Ms. Sensitivity.
Lately all Piper seemed able to do was moan and
groan about poor Phoebe. Not that Prue wasn't
worried about her. She was. But while Piper
licked her wounds, Prue was more inclined to grab a
sword and charge ahead.
  "This is so awful," Piper moaned. "I can't
think straight at work. I can barely get to work. The
club is just a lot of loud noise and blurred
faces. All I can think about is Phoebe and how
we left her out there . . . somewhere." She pushed a
carton of food away and put her head on the table.
"I can't live this way."
  Prue felt her anger begin to fade. She
couldn't bear to see Piper look so broken. She
set her food down on the counter. "Listen," she
said more gently, "we're going to get Phoebe
back. There's got to be something else we can do."
  Piper sighed. "We've searched The Book of
Shadows every day and every night. I just don't


  think there's a spell to find someone stuck tinder a
warlock's spell."
  "I'd love to get my hands on that warlock,"
Prue said, her anger returning. She went to the
table and picked up another egg roll. She pointed
it at Piper. "And you give up too easily. You
always have. We need to keep looking in the book."
  Piper lifted her head. "Right. And there you go,
bossing me around again. Can't you ever just back off?"
  Prue dipped the egg roll in some duck sauce
and turned away. "Nope," she said flatly.
"Come on. Let's get to the attic."
  She climbed the stairs, hearing Piper's
footsteps dragging behind her. That girl could slip
into a funk faster than Prue could blink. Well,
Piper could just as easily be depressed sitting in the
attic as in the kitchen.;
  Up in the attic, Prue was still chewing her egg
roll when she opened The Book of Shadows.
Oops, a greasy fingerprint appeared on one of the
pages. Usually things like that bothered her, but not
anymore. After all, a girl had to eat. She
wiped her hands on her jeans and kept leafing through the
pages.
  Piper sank into a chair beside an old
typewriter and frowned. "It's hopeless."
  Prue glared at her sister, then turned back
to the book.
  She came to a spell for taming beasts.

  Something about the spell seemed odd. Prue
blinked at the words. They seemed to swim before her
eyes. "It can't be," she murmured.
  "What can't?" Piper asked listlessly.
  "This spell. It's changing," Prue said. She
watched as the letters stretched and shrank and rearranged
themselves into a new group of words.
  "Changing? How?"
  Prue stared at the book. "When I opened to this
page, the spell was called 'For Taming Beasts."
But now it reads, "For Maiming Beasts.""
  "You've overtired," Piper said.
  was "Maiming beasts," was Prue repeated.
"Ha! That's sort of funny!"
  "What is?"
  "Nothing. Never mind." Prue waved her off.
She didn't have time to explain the joke to Whiny
Girl.
  Her finger trailed down the page, stopping on the
word warlock.
  She held her breath as she read the spell.
Yes! Yes!
  "That's it!" Prue announced. She pointed to the
spell. "Look, Piper! It's perfect!"
  Phoebe sneezed at the dust and feathers that rose
as she vigorously swept out the chicken coop. It
was her gazillionth chore of the day and one of the
dirtiest so far. Who knew that


  these little cluckers could be so foul, she thought. She
shooed a few of the birds away so that she could finish.
  All day long Prudence had been popping in and out
of the cottage, sometimes telling Phoebe to rest,
other times telling her, basically, to get her butt
in gear. It was as if Prudence was a different
person. First she was the kind, generous soul, then she
was her evil twin, who'd be happy to see Phoebe
slip into the stinky mud of the pigsty. It was enough to give
Phoebe a whole new perspective on her
ancestors.
  Who knew insanity ran in the family? she
thought.
  With the chicken coop swept, she turned to shoo the
chickens back inside. "Okay, girls, the
dorm's clean now. Next time you want to trash the
place, take it outside."
  "What are you doing?" Prudence called from across the
clearing. She had been weeding the garden with
Cassandra, who now trailed her mother from a cautious
distance. "Did I not tell you to chop the wood before you
swept the chicken coop?" Prudence demanded, her
hands on her hips.
  Actually, you didn't, Phoebe wanted to say,
but she bit her tongue. No use crossing
Prudence's "evil twin" persona.
  Instead, Phoebe just leaned the broom against the
chicken coop and shook the dust

  out of her apron. "So, where's the woodpile?"
she asked.
  Prudence pointed her to the back of the cottage,
then marched inside with Cassandra.
  Phoebe glanced down at her hands. They were
blistered and red. Her legs were tired, her throat was
dry, and now she was off to chop wood. Well, at
least she'd be getting in a solid aerobic workout.
  Phoebe's eyes swept the surrounding forest before
she headed over to the woodpile. Now that she knew the
demon had it in for her, she had to be careful. Now
that she knew he was near, she expected to find him
lurking in every shadow.
  Swallowing hard, Phoebe winced. Her throat
was on fire. She needed a drink, which meant going
into the cottage and risking Prudence's wrath. It was
a chance she'd have to take.
  Pushing open the door, Phoebe spied
Cassandra curled up in the chair beside the
fireplace for an afternoon nap. Now, that was a good
idea.
  A cup of root tea sat half-empty on the
kitchen table.
  Nearby, Prudence knelt at the side table-the
one with the candles and the wooden bowl. The candles were
lit, casting a warm circle of light over
Prudence's golden hair. Leaning over a large
book, her hair pouring over her


  shoulders, she was still and quiet, totally engrossed,
drawing sometihing in the book.
  As the door closed behind her, Phoebe caught a
look at the book. It was The Book of Shadows,
and Prudence was adding to it!
  Phoebe looked over Prudence's shoulder. She
read the title of a spell she was writing: "For
Maiming Beasts."
  Maiming? That was weird. Phoebe didn't
remember seeing any spells for maiming in The
Book of Shadows. But really, who cared? The book
was here. That meant Prudence definitely was a witch
and an ancestor. Maybe they could work together to find a
spell to banish the demon and another spell to send
Phoebe home.
  Relieved, Phoebe almost fell to the floor beside
Prudence. "Blessed be," she said softly, using the
traditional greeting shared by witches through the
centuries.
  Prudence flinched, then glanced up at Phoebe
with a startled expression.
  "What? Why did you say that?" she gasped.
  "The book," Phoebe said, trying to hold back
the huge smile that was bubbling inside her. "I see
you're writing in The Book of Shadows. I know
it's hard to believe, but I understand because-was
  "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Prudence slammed the book closed, clutching it
against her chest. "This is ... a family book-some
recipes from my mother."

  "It's all right, Prudencest" Phoebe
assured her. "I understand about spells and powers. I
even-was
  "There will be no talk of such evil in this house,"
Prudence snapped. Still clutching the book, she
blew out the candles and plopped down in a chair at
the main table. "This is a book of family
recipes, nothing more."
  Cold, crisp, final. The words hit Phoebe
as hard as the cast-iron skillet on the fire.
Why was it every time she gained an inch with Prudence, she
got pummeled back a few yards?
  Phoebe stood up and brushed off the skirt of
her dress. She probably ought to just chill and finish
wood chopping. No sense getting Prudence even more
wound up. But now that Phoebe had seen the book, it
was hard to walk away from it. It was so familiar, like
a dear friend. She ached to touch it, to search for the
spells that might help her. She wanted to rip that
book right out of Prudence's hands. But that could
backfire-badly.
  No, it would be better to approach the book when
Prudence wasn't around to protest. At least now
Phoebe knew The Book of Shadows was here. And
it was so close-just a few feet away.
  Closing her eyes, Phoebe tried
to visualize the information she was searching for. All she
got were images of letters written in a flowing


  script and pages that were brown at the edges. Not
enough to really get her anywhere.
  "Begging your pardon," Prudence said curtly.
"But don't you have a good amount of wood to chop?"
  "Yes, right. I just came in for a drink."
Phoebe shook herself back to the present. She
poured herself some water from a pitcher and lifted the
mug, never taking her eyes off Prudence.
  You can play coy with me, sister, Phoebe thought,
but now I've seen the book. I'll find it later,
somewhere, somehow.
  Maybe, just maybe, there would be a spell inside
for banishing the demon and sending Phoebe home.
  All she had to do was get her hands on it.

  A Sp611 for summoning warlocks!" Prue
exclaimed. "I can't believe I didn't
notice it before."
  Piper got up, glanced at the page, and
shrugged. "Who cares?" She stretched out on a throw
rug on the floor and studied the ceiling.
  Ignoring her, Prue read on. "Hmm," she
muttered. "If you're searching for a particular
warlock, the spell has to be cast 'where the warlock
last was manifest." his
  Piper shuddered. "Somehow I don't think
revisiting that alley is the best idea."
  Prue frowned. Let's see what else the
spell calls for." She read the list of
ingredients, which ran down the page. It included
everything from rose thorns to nail clippings to

  white candles. Luckily, there was nothing too
exotic that would take days to track down.
  On the opposite page was an illustration of a
monstrous man doubled over. The title of the page was
"Potions and Spells for the Warding Off and Ruination
of Warlocks."
  "Ooh! It gives a list of nasty ways to get
rid of warlocks, too," Prue reported. "I
wish we'd had this before."
  "Hello? Prue, what does this have to do with
Phoebe?" Piper asked,
  Lifting The Book of Shadows from its stand,
Prue clutched it against her chest and carried it over
to Piper. She sat on the attic floor with the fat
book in her lap. "A warlock did something
to Phoebe. Whether he cast a spell on her or
sent her to Tahiti, that yellow-eyed warlock had
something to do with our sister's disappearance."
  "Duh!" Piper glared at her. "Tell me
something I don't already know."
  "Well, if a warlock was the key to Phoebe's
disappearance, don't you think it would be a good idea
to seek that warlock out?" Prue's fingernails
tapped the open page in The Book of Shadows.
"This is like a tracking spell."
  "Great," Piper said. "So we find the warlock
pond scum who made Phoebe disappear. Then
what? We ask him to please undo his spell?"
  Prue took a deep calming breath. "No,"
she explained patiently. "We find the warlock

  pond scum and we force him to tell us how to get
her back. Right here: the "ruination" of said
warlock. I think it's going to give us major
ammo. Either he brings Phoebe back or he
dies."
  The flash of intelligence in Piper's brown
eyes told Prue that she got it. Something had
clicked-finally.
  "How soon can we start?" Piper asked.
  Prue smiled. "How many rose thorns do you
think we'll need to make up a quarter cup?"
  "Someone's coming!" Prue whispered. She and
Piper had managed to pull the spell together in an
hour, and here they were, not far from where they'd lost
Phoebe, watching as the bait approached the hook.
  Piper peered down at the man below. Prue
followed her gaze, squinting. He was just starting
to climb the steep stairs cut into one of San
Francisco's nearly vertical hillsides. The
stairway led to the North Beach alley. He
looked like an ordinary guy, but the fine hairs on
the back of Prue's neck were standing straight up.
It was as if a neon sign were flashing in every cell of
her body: Warning! Warlock approaching!
  "Careful, we don't want to scare him off,"
Piper said.
  A cool breeze was blowing through, along

  with wispy white clouds that shrouded whole sections
of the Bay Bridge before they danced off into the sky.
Prue took a deep breath. Although she didn't
want to admit it to Piper, there was no denying the
anticipation she was feeling. Something was going to happen
tonight.
  They were going to get Phoebe back.
  Prue kept her eyes on the stairway. By the
single light shining above it, she couldn't make out the
man's face, but she could see that he wore a
black shirt and trench coat. He was a couple of
steps up the steep flight of stairs when he
stopped, glanced around quickly, then made a sign in
the air with his left hand and vanished.
  A second later he reappeared about a third
of the way from the top. "That's it. He blinked."
Prue squeezed Piper's arm. "He's a
warlock."
  Prue could feel a change in her sister.
Piper's body was suddenly taut with tension.
Maybe that meant she was ready for a battle.
  "Oh, you are going to be so helpful," Prue
spoke quietly to the warlock as he headed toward
them. "You're just what we ordered. I can't believe
the spell worked."
  "Well, it did," Piper agreed, ducking
back into the shadow of a doorway. "And he's right on
time." She leaned against the marble wall, her dark
eyes frightened. "Are you sure about

  this, Prue?" she asked. "I mean, we've never
actually gone out and hunted warlocks before. We
usually wait until the slime-molds come after us,
the way that one did with Phoebe."
  Glancing down the stairs, Prue saw that the
warlock was slowly climbing again, and he wasn't far
from the top. This was no time for cold feet. She
ducked into Piper's doorway and spoke in a
whisper, "What, exactly, is your point?"
  "It just seems so ... so cold-blooded,"
Piper answered. "We promised to use our powers
to do good. Remember? Harm no one. Now we're
waiting to snag someone who maybe hasn't done
anything to hurt anyone we know."
  "What?"
  "What if we've got the wrong warlock? That
spell wasn't real specific."
  "He's a warlock, Piper." Prue's words were
raspy in the cold air. "Warlock equals
evil. And we're taking things one step at a time.
It's the only way to track Phoebe."
  Piper stared in the direction of the approaching
figure. "Umm, Prue? That's not the warlock who
took Phoebe." She pointed at the man.
  Prue squinted. Now that he was closer, he did
look different from the creepoid she remembered. But
so what? "You know warlocks," she argued. "They
hang around


  together. Like a club. This guy could know our guy.
He could know about Phoebe."
  The scuffing sound of footsteps on the stairs ended
all discussion. The warlock was one step away from
them. It was now or never.
  Peering out from the doorway, Prue saw his shadow
ascend to the top step, then round the landing.
Excitement coursed through her veins as she stepped out
of the doorway, startling him. He paused, staring at
Prue with confusion in his eyes. I
  Piper emerged a second later, her face
holding an expression of sheer determination.
  Glancing at the two sisters, the warlock seemed
to get it-way too quickly. Rearing back, he started
to raise his hands, ready to attack. No way,
Prue thought. He was not going to hurt one of them before
they had a chance to question him.
  "Freeze him!" Prue ordjered.
  With a flick of her handnd, Piper used her power
to suspend time. The warlock became perfectly still,
his magic siopped before it even started.
  Relieved, Prue crossed the landing, her boots
clicking on the cement. "Hello, hello." He was
an average-looking guy, taller than most, with
thick, silver hair and deep blue eyes. Not a
bad catch, if he weren't obsessed with harnessing the
power of evil.
  She glared into his eyes. This guy was going

  to pay. He was going to pay for what his friend had done
to Phoebe.
  Piper rushed over beside her, then paused nervously
a few feet from the warlock. "Okay, so here we
are." She gestured toward the frozen figure.
"Any ideas on what we're going to do now?"
  Definitely, Prue thought. Somehow, she knew
exactly what to do. It was almost like an instinct.
  She stepped right up to the man, face-to-face,
and placed her hands flat on his chest. Her hands
began to glow in the darkness.
  Her fingers and palms became red-orange,
neon-bright against his black shirt. The sight was
mesmerizing.
  "Prue!" Piper screamed. "Your hands!
What's happening?"
  Prue wasn't sure. But the sensation surging through
her hands was so incredible, she couldn't possibly
break the connection.
  What was that? A flutter of movement? Piper's
time freeze was ending. At once the warlock began
to writhe and scream. His face contorted in pain, and his
eyes bulged from his head in horror.
  But Prue did not let go.
  A white, ashen paste covered the warlock's
skin. His face wrinkled. His broad shoulders and
chest caved in. Was he shrinking? The tall man
seemed to be drying up and shriveling

  like a raisin. Prue winced as her hands fell
into a mushy area of his chest, but she didn't back
off. She couldn't back away from the awesome feeling
her touch was generating.
  "Aarrr)g!" the warlock's voice bubbled up,
pleading and pathetic.
  "What is going on?" Piper demanded again.
"Prue! I thought we were going to ask him about
Phoebe!"
  Prue didn't answer. She couldn't. Words were
secondary to the gigantic thing that was happening here.
An electrifying sensation was passing through her, and she
needed every ounce of concentration to soak it up
completely.
  The warlock's entire body was now made of
white ash. Prue watched in amazement as he
collapsed in on himself, then turned to powder.
  Stunned, Prue dropped to her knees in the
pile of white dust.
  "Prue!" Piper called. Her voice was laced
with fear. "Are you okay?"
  Huddled on the ground, Prue felt her sister's
arms slip around her, offering emotional and physical
support. "Come on, I'll help you up,"
Piper whispered gently.
  But Prue tore away, leaping to her feet.
"Wow! I'm fine! I don't need help at
all." The truth was, she was more than fine. She
felt magnificent!

  Rubbing her hands over the sleeves of her
jacket, Prue detected something different, something
new inside her. A total energy blast coursing
through her, making her feel stronger than ever.
"Well, that was a large charge." She chuckled.
  "What?" Piper asked. "Prue, tell me
what happened."
  Prue gritted her teeth. Couldn't Piper
figure out anything for herself? She was going to have to tone
it down a notch or her annoyance factor was going
to put Prue over the edge.
  "What do you think happened, Piper?" she said,
trying not to snarl at her sister. "He's gone and
we're here. And before he left, something passed from him
to me. Something huge." Her voice dropped. "It
felt like his powers went straight into me. It was
phenomenal."
  "Get out!" Piper's mouth dropped open in
awe. "You're telling me you soaked up a
warlock's powers? Is that even possible? I
mean... whoa."
  Prue closed her eyes, letting herself take a
deep breath. She felt great. The air smelled so
clean and promising. This wasn't what she'd
expected from tonight, but she certainly wasn't
complaining. She glanced over at her sister. "It's
like I'm running on new juice, Piper. Think
about it: new powers."
  Piper seemed confused as she tugged on one of the
snaps on her jacket. "Okay, truth-

  n
  fully? When I think about it, absorbing warlock
juice could be a little dicey."
  "And I'm telling you I've never felt
better."
  "Still," Piper said, "we ought to get you home
to sort out what happened."
  "Home?" Feeling a surge of power, Prue
closed her eyes again and laughed.
  "What's so funny?"
  "My new powers," Prue said, reaching out. She
took Piper's hand and squeezed.
  A tingling sensation shot through Prue. Yes! Her
new powers were working.
  Before Prue's eyes, Piper's body went
totally flat and two-dimensional, like a billboard.
Considering the odd sensations she was experiencing,
Prue assumed the same was happening to herself.
  Piper's postcard body folded into itself, until
it was folded into a piece so tiny it seemed
to disappear.
  Prue could feel her body doing the same thing.
Bye-bye alley, she thought.
  Prue could feel that she was suddenly in a different
place. The air was warmer, the lights were softer.
There was a familiar scent of spicy potpourri.
When Prue could see again, she realized she was standing
in the parlor of Halliwell Manor.
  Across the room, right beside Gram's velvet
Queen Anne chair, Piper was unfolding. The
small square doubled, then opened again and

  again until Piper stood there, flat and motionless
on the Chinese rug.
  With a whoosh, Piper's image rounded out, and she was
the moving, breathing, three-dimensional Piper again.
Of course, she was also the annoying, cautious,
solemn Piper again.
  Prue's mind reeled. They'd been
transported home in a millisecond. This would
make for one easy commute to Buckland's-if she still
had a job there. She'd missed a few days of work
with no explanation. Prue wanted to laugh. Maybe
they'd fire her!
  Piper tugged on a sleeve that had ridden up as
she unfolded. "I feel like I was made into a
paper doll. Did you have to flatten me?"
  Prue shrugged. "I don't know," she
admitted. "I'm not used to this power yet." But she
couldn't pretend to be all worried about it. Like some
people. In fact, she was so far from worried, she could
barely keep a straight face. She threw her
head back and let out a long, full laugh.
  Excellent! What a rush!
  Phoebe straightened up in the center of the field
and swatted at a fat black fly. "Dive-bomb
me one more time and I'll squash you," she muttered
through clenched teeth.
  It was the next day, and farm life was sinking lower
and lower on her list of fun things to


  try in the new millennium. At least she'd
given it an earnest effort this morning. Today she'd
hauled water and split wood before she got near a
crumb of breakfast. She'd even agreed to tie on
Prudence's ugly old bonnet and work in the
fields. Now she looked like that old maid in the
butter commercial.
  She heard the barn door swing open.
"Phoebe!"
  Phoebe winced. The sound was like fingernails on a
blackboard. When Prudence's voice hit that
sharp, nasty tone Phoebe could feel her entire
body recoil. Prudence was definitely going with the
"evil twin" persona today.
  "I fail to see how you can weed the garden when
you're standing upright," Prudence said.
  Phoebe turned to face her and saw Cassandra
at Prudence's side. "I was just stretching out my
back." She smiled brightly and demonstrated a
couple of windmill toe touches from aerobics
class. "And one and two and three-was
  Cassandra laughed, bvjt Prudence's mouth
straightened into a tight little frown. "Never have I
met anyone with so many shameful excuses!"
  Okay! All right already! Phoebe gave in.
If she was going to make any progress finding the
demon and researching a spell, she needed to get
Prudence off her case. She squatted down again and
yanked out a handful of

  bristly weeds. Her crimson nail polish
glimmered in the sun. It was amazing how her
manicure had held up, considering the chores
Prudence had assigned her so far. Wow, what brand
of polish had she used?
  Maybe that wasn't the most pressing question. What
she really needed to know was how to get Prudence to own
up to the family talent. Phoebe blew a strand of
brown hair out of her face.
  A pounding sound rose in the distance-the steady
gallop of a horse.
  Phoebe stood up to watch the horse and
carriage clatter down the road from the village.
Hugh was waving excitedly from the driver's seat.
  Old Gray Eyes. After the way he'd come on
to her yesterday, he wasn't exactly a welcome
sight. On the other hand, any excuse to pluck a
few less weeds was welcome.
  "Prudence!" he called, reining in the horse.
"Come quickly! You are needed in the village."
  "What is it, Hugh?" Prudence asked.
  "Mrs. Gibbs is in need of a midwife. The
baby is coming."
  "But it can't be." Prudence's hands flew to her
face. "The child is weeks early!" She picked up
her basket and ran toward the cottage. "Come
along, Cassandra. I'll fetch the medicine bag.
Take off your apron, child. Run!"
  The little girl darted across the field and followed
her mother into the cottage.


  "And good morning to you, Phoebe," Hugh said with a
big smile.
  "Whatever." Hitching up her skirt to keep it from
dragging in the field, Phoebe bent down once
again. Her fingers closed over a wiry clump of
weeds. Wait a minute, she thought. With everyone out
of the house and off in the village for a while, this will be
the perfect chance for me to find The Book of
Shadows. She wasn't exactly sure what she
should look for inside it, but she knew that she needed
help-big time. Since yesterday's face-off with the
demon, she'd been feeling pretty helpless.
Okay, very helpless. She was stuck playing
Cinderella while he was out conjuring up a big
evil stew.
  Phoebe blinked. Somehow, she found herself weeding
around a big pair of black boots. She looked
up. Hugh towered over her like a jolly giant.
  "Are the thistles so fascinating?" he asked,
bending down beside her.
  Phoebe bit her lip. She hated the way he
checked her out, his eyes roving over her constantly.
And she'd thought he was a hero? Boy, was that a
mistake.
  "Have you lost your tongue?" He picked a weed and
dangled the end over her, tickling her neck.
  Phoebe swiped at it and missed. "My tongue
is fine, thanks. And stop that! Have you lost your
mind?"

  ChAJ caret MED
  Hugh laughed as he dipped the weed lower, aiming
at her cleavage.
  "I said, cut it out!" She ripped the weed out of
his hand. "That's it, pal. I've had enough of your
slimy looks and suggestive remarks. As far as
I'm concerned, you have a relationship with that woman in
there." She pointed toward the cottage. "Not with me.
You have nothing with me."
  From the expression on his face she couldn't tell
if he was surprised or amused. "I do believe
you're wrong, Phoebe." He reached out to her
outstretched arm, grabbed her hand, then planted a
kiss on her knuckles.
  "Oh, gross." She winced, wiping her hand against
her dress. "Read my lips: I don't want
your cooties, Hugh."
  Again he laughed. "Cooties? Truly, you say
the most remarkable-was
  "We are ready to go," called a voice.
  Phoebe and Hugh swung toward the cottage
to see Prudence standing a few feet in front of the
door. Medicine bag in hand, she stood as stiff and
cold as a statue. Something dark and sad glimmered
in her light blue eyes: suspicion. It was
clear that she'd seen the kiss, and she wasn't too
happy about it.
  Snapping back to his polite persona, Hugh
strapped Prudence's bag onto the carriage and
helped her into the seat. The cottage door slammed
and Cassandra raced out. She joined them inside the
carriage.

  Phoebe sank back into the field and yanked out
a particularly stubborn clump of weeds. As she
watched the carriage leave, she held her breath.
She had to be patient just a few moments longer.
She waited until the clip-clop of the horse's
hooves faded away.
  Finally! Phoebe darted into the cottage and began
looking for the book. It wasn't in any of the obvious
places-on the pine table, by the altar, or on
Prudence's nightstand. Maybe the book wasn't in
the cottage at all. What if Prudence kept it
in the barn or something?
  No. Phoebe shook her head. She was fairly
certain that no witch would keep The Book of
Shadows too far from reach. Still, it was definitely not
in sight. Okay, so she'd have to do a little
detective work.
  Phoebe searched every cupboard. She emptied
trunks. She peered under the mattresses. She
even started feeling for loose floorboards. With a
flash of inspiration she checked the hearth, wondering
if the book could be hidden under a skillet or
something. Not a very bright idea, but then again, Prudence
was more than a little weird.
  When the fireplace turned out to be a dead end,
Phoebe spun around. She stood there biting a
fingernail. "I know you're here. Where are you?" she
called to the book she loved so much.
  She noticed a chair that Prudence kept moving
around the cottage. Could the thick volume be hidden
under there?

  No, there was no place to hide anything tinder the
wood seat-but wait. Phoebe lifted her gaze
to stare up at the thatched ceiling. Had Prudence
been moving the chair to get to something up there?
Phoebe climbed onto the chair and reached up.
  Bingo!
  There, tucked between the exposed beam and some straw
thatching, was The Book of Shadows.
  She slid it out and jumped off the chair with the book
cradled in her arms. Usually, the book gave her
a warm, comforting feeling when she touched it. Today,
though, it made her shiver. What was that about? She
went to the table and cracked it open.
  Sitting there, Phoebe smoothed back the pages
of the book she knew so well. She nearly gasped
when she saw all the empty space inside. Then
she quickly realized that Prudence was only the second
generation of witches to write in The Book of
Shadows. By the time Gram had passed the book on
to Phoebe and her sisters, many women had contributed
to the drawings and information inscribed between the covers.
Since she was more than three hundred years into the
past, most of that work just hadn't been done yet.
  Which means that there aren't that many spells here,
Phoebe thought. Oh, please have the ones I need!


  Flipping to the end, Phoebe saw pages and
pages that were empty. She ran one hand over the
blank parchment and-wham! A vision rilled her mind.
  It was of a strange, skewed world-a dark, shadowed
place. Through the dust and shadows she saw Prue and
Piper, but their faces were painted with dark lines, and
they were wearing lots of leather and chains. Prue and
Piper as biker chicks at a costume party? Not
exactly their style.
  They were hunched down beside something on a dark,
deserted road. What were they doing? Hiding?
Waiting for some secret rendezvous? Phoebe
wasn't sure.
  Then she recognized a dangerous glimmer in
Prue's eye, the kind she got when she was fighting
warlocks.
  The vision wavered then became clear again. Something
was moving farther down the road-someone was coming toward
them-and Prue and Piper were on their feet, looking
different somehow. They reminded Phoebe of the way
Kit, the family cat, looked before she sprang
to attack.
  Prue focused her powers on the guy on the
road, and a scream of agony rang out. "Score!"
Prue said.
  "The next one is mine," Piper told her.
  A shiver ran through Phoebe as the vision faded.
What was that about? Whatever it was, it looked
completely ugly.

  were her sisters hunting warlocks? It didn't
compute. Prue and Piper weren't the predatory
type. Besides, that was totally against the oath they'd all
taken when they discovered the Power of Three. What were
her sisters thinking?
  Yesterday's encounter with the demon flashed into her
mind. He had threatened to turn her family
members evil. Phoebe shuddered. Could his magic
be working in the future already?
  Now it's even more important to get rid of this
demon and get home, Prue thought. Back to the
book.
  "How about a time-travel spell?" she asked
aloud. It would be handy to have it ready. As soon as
she took care of the demon, she was out of here. She
flipped through the book without success.
  "Not even close," she muttered as her eyes
skimmed over a spell to make a dry cow give
milk.
  As she turned the pages she wondered when
Prudence would be back. Really, it could be anytime.
There was no telling how long Mrs. What's-her-name
was going to take having that baby.
  A hand-drawn illustration of a man with spikes
shooting out of his head caught her eye. Under it was
written, "Spell for Banishing the Most Evil of
Demons."


  Phoebe's mouth dropped open. This was it.
"Yes!" she shouted, thrusting a fist in the air.
Now all she needed was to collect the ingredients,
find the demon, and bust his ugly face back
to Hades.
  She could start in on the ingredients right away,
though she couldn't copy the list. Colonials
didn't exactly keep extra pens and notepads
handy. Her finger ran down the page. The spell
called for simple ingredients-everything from dirt
to spices.
  There was just one minor glitch. The spell
required the power of two or more witches. Phoebe
was just one woman. How could she...
  Wait a minute-what about Prudence? Somehow
Phoebe needed to get Prudence to help her.
Phoebe frowned. Not a likely scenario. How
could she even ask when the woman's personality
flip-flopped every hour? Getting Prudence involve
caret seemed like a bad idea all around. were'
  So who was going to help Phoebe with the spell? His
  I'll cross that bridge when I come to it,
Phoebe thought.
  She closed her eyes and repeated the ingredients
she needed, trying to memorize them. was 'Soil from the
earth where three roads meet, pinch of salt,
needle of pine...""
  With the list fixed in her mind, Phoebe

  leafed through the rest of the book, hoping for a spell
to get her out of Salem, but there simply weren't that
many spells in this version of The Book of Shadows.
She found herself flipping to the end, to the entries
Prudence had made in the past few days. She
paused a moment to look at an illustration. It was
of a deer, with bleeding lacerations across its body.
  "What the ..." Phoebe cringed at the shocking
sketch. Beside it was a curse to cast on enemies.
  Make an image of thy foe, Slash it as I
slashed the roe. Then bury it beneath full moon In
the grave of one hanged too soon.
  Yuck! That is one evil spell, Phoebe
thought with a shudder.
  She turned another page and found a spell
"To Be Revenged on One Who Has Done You
Harm." A third spell was designed "To Cause
Disease in One Who Crosses Y."
  Phoebe stared at the book openmouthed. These
spells-she didn't remember ever seeing them in The
Book of Shadows in the future. So how could they be
here now?
  Phoebe was still leafing through the book when the door
flew open.
  Prudence stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed
on Phoebe.


  "Hey! You're back early," Phoebe said with
forced cheerfulness. She wanted to slam The Book of
Shadows closed and hide it behind her back, but it was
too late. Prudence had caught her. And-big
surprise-she didn't look too happy about it.
  "What do you think you're doing?" Prudence's
voice was soft but completely unnerving.
  "Just checking something in your book," Phoebe
answered, closing it gently and patting the cover.
  Prudence marched across the room, lunging for her.
  "But don't worry," Phoebe rattled on,
darting out of the way. "I'll finish the weeding. And I
didn't forget about the chickens or the-was
  Prudence grabbed the collar of Phoebe's
dress so tightly that Phoebe could feel her
fingernails digging into her neck.
  "I-you're going to rip it," Phoebe screeched.
But Prudence kept pulling. Nose to nose with her
ancestor, Phoebe couldn't miss the madness in the
woman's eyes.
  The tight collar constricted her throat, but
Phoebe forced herself to hang tough. She stared into the
face of evil as Prudence scowled at her.
  "If I ever, ever, catch you touching this book
again," Prudence said in a clear, calm voice,
"I will kill you."

  1116 DI:-PEOPLE of a ringing phone pierced the
halls of Halliwell Manor.
  Upstairs in her room, Piper leaned into the
mirror and added another layer of eyeliner around her
eyes. "Can you get that?" she shouted to Prue.
  The phone kept ringing, and Piper cursed her
older sister for being so slow to answer.
  Tilting her head to the side, Piper leaned in again
and drew another line of black over her eyes.
She'd always been so careful, so conservative with
makeup, but for some reason, in the past few days she
felt wild and willing to experiment. Layering was so
cool, and black on black was such a great look.
  "Well," she said aloud, talking to her reflec-


  tion, "if you're going to the dark side, you might
as well look the part." She slid open a tube of
lip gloss and applied a silvery white sheen to her
lips.
  Now I look dead, she thought. Perfect for a
night of destruction.
  Tonight's plan was nothing new. Piper and Prue were
going to do the spell for seeking out warlocks. Been
there, done that. The big, beautiful difference was that this
time Piper would be the one to suck up the warlock's
powers. Yum-yum.
  It was a good thing, because she was really, really
hungry.
  Piper collapsed back on her bed with a
satisfied laugh. Cravings for power-that was a first.
Then again, there'd been a few firsts in the five days
since Phoebe had disappeared. Was it just last
Saturday that it had happened? And what was today ...
Thursday? Or Friday?
  The phone was ringing again.
  "Prue!" Piper yelled. "Are you going to get
that or what?"
  "I'm busy!" Prue called from her room.
  "Doing what?" Piper pushed herself up and headed
down the hall. She couldn't imagine what could be
occupying her sister's time.
  Neither of them had gotten around to cleaning the house this
week. She paused in Prue's doorway and
frowned. "What are you doing to yourself?"

  "Tattoos," Prue said, showing off a
temporary tattoo of a thorny demon on her
biceps. "Want one?"
  "Maybe later. We've got to get going, or
the spell is going to kick in before we get there."
  "Picky, picky," Prue murmured, pressing
another tattoo to her ankle.
  The phone started ringing again. "I'll get it,"
Piper said, heading toward the staircase.
  By the time she reached the kitchen, the ringing had
stopped, but there were messages on the machine. She
pushed the Play button. "Piper, it's Jason
from the club," said a voice. Strains of music and
laughter were in the background. "The bartender called
in sick, and we've been waiting for you-was
  Click. Piper cut him off. Okay, she
hadn't been to the club for a few days, but what was the
problem? People just needed to do their jobs and shut up.
Maybe the old Piper would have freaked about missing
work, but now she had more important things to do.
  She played the other two messages on the
machine. They were both for Prue, both from the auction
house. It sounded as though Prue hadn't made it
to work much this week, either. In one message her boss
was acting all worried and sad that Prue was so
sick. Ha! Sick with power was more like it.
  Cutting off the message, Piper paused. What
was that smell?


  She turned toward the sink, obviously the source
of the odor. Pots and dishes and glasses were piled
high, some floating in a pool of scummy water.
The floor was still scattered with silverware, which Prue
had never had a chance to pick up. The place was a
mess, but that wasn't Piper's problem.
  Turning away from the smell, she went into the living
room and paused. Piles of mail, catalogs, and
papers covered the coffee table. Prue's unwashed
laundry was heaped on the couch. And were those cobwebs
on Gram's chandelier? The old thing was looking
pretty dingy.
  What a dump.
  The old house had changed. Actually, a lot of
things had changed, Piper reflected: The house.
Her job. Her sister. It bothered Piper a little that
everything in her life was sort of rotting away, but it
wasn't her fault. It was all because of Phoebe.
Phoebe had disappeared, and Piper's life was
beginning to stink like this musty old house.
  Passing by the foot of the stairs, Piper picked
up a new odor. "Prue!" she yelled up the
stairs. "Did you light a candle?"
  Prue appeared at the top of the stairs, holding
a tattoo patch over her wrist. "I'm always
lighting candles. Ever since the electricity went out
in that storm two nights ago."
  "Because you forgot to call the electric company
to get it fixed," Piper reminded her.

  "I had a few things on my mind, okay? And
what's your problem that you can't pick up a phone?"
  Let's not get into another shouting match, Piper
thought wearily. "Well, it smells like something is
burning."
  Prue's pert nose wrinkled as she sniffed the
air. "Yes." She glanced behind her, nodding. "The
attic. We lit those candles for the warlock-seeking
spell. Didn't you blow them out?"
  "I thought you were going to take care of it," Piper
said as she raced up the stairs.
  "And why would you think that?" Prue called after her.
"Oh, I know. Because you weren't thinking!"
  Piper was angry and breathless when she bounded into the
smoky attic. Most of the candles had burned down
and extinguished themselves. One of them had spilled wax
all over a table, igniting an old doily. Now
a crispy circle of lace, it was slowly
smoldering.
  It's a good thing one of us noticed, Piper thought,
before we burned down the house. She grabbed the
pitcher of spring water they'd used in the spell,
doused the smoldering ash, then laughed. Somewhere in her
logical mind she knew that it would be a horrible thing
to lose their home, but another part of her just wanted
to laugh, laugh as if none of it mattered.
  She went over to The Book of Shadows and


  pressed her hands against the open pages. The book
made her shiver.
  She pulled her hands away, staring at the spell
written out on the page. It was a dark spell, a
curse for someone who crosses you. On the
opposite page was a drawing of a deer, cut all
over its body and bleeding. Piper shuddered.
Lately lots of spells like this had been appearing
in the book. Piper didn't understand why, and Prue
didn't seem to care. Actually, Prue seemed
to enjoy them.
  But then, Prue had been on a nasty tear ever
since she'd sucked away that warlock's powers.
Entirely full of herself. Totally annoying. It
wasn't fair of her to take his powers for herself, but
tonight that would change. It was Piper's turn to even the
score.
  They'd already cast the spell to attract another
warlock. Now they just had to get into place so that
everything could happen the way Piper had planned it.
  She ducked out the attic door and raced down the
stairs, shouting, "Prue! Get your butt
downstairs. It's time to bag another warlock."
  Piper's mouth was watering as she peered out of the
shadows. Had she even eaten dinner? Lunch? She
didn't remember, and it didn't really matter.
It wasn't food she craved. It was something
stronger: power.
  A cold wind from the nearby water swept

  no
  through the empty alleys in this warehouse district.
Piper and Prue were hiding in the shadows beside an
abandoned warehouse, just a few yards from a ghostly
quiet street. They were about twenty yards away from
a biker bar, which was a key part of their plan.
  The buzz of an engine caught Piper's
attention. She nudged her sister and watched the
empty street. Soon a single headlight appeared
in the distance.
  Only it wasn't a normal white
motorcycle headlight. Rings of colored light
pulsed and glowed around it.
  "Warlock on a Harley," Piper whispered.
"And he's going to be mine."
  The biker passed under a streetlight, and Piper
saw the long, curved metal fenders of a classic
Harley-Davidson motorcycle. This time there was
no fear or hesitation clouding Piper's mind. This
time the hunt was exciting.
  "Ready?" she asked Prue, who nodded.
  Just as the biker approached the alley where they were
hiding, Piper used her powers to freeze time.
  The Harley stood suspended in the center of the
street.
  "Nice balance," Piper taunted the frozen
warlock.
  Prue picked up an old railroad tie on
the side of the road and slid it directly into the
biker's path.

  m
  Time restored and the motorcycle buzzed ahead.
Within seconds the bike hit the huge piece of
wood. The Harley and its driver flew into the air,
out of control. The warlock landed on his side, a
few feet from the twisted wreckage of the bike.
  Piper and Prue rushed over to his body.
Kneeling beside him, Piper thrust her hands onto his
chest, frantic to get his powers.
  "Why?" The word scraped out of his throat. His
sad eyes were slightly open.
  Piper felt creeped out by his question. Shouldn't he
be dead already?
  "You're a warlock, that's why," Prue
explained to the man coldly. "And last I heard,
warlocks are evil."
  This is for Phoebe, Piper wanted to say. She
knew it was all because of Phoebe, though she wasn't
quite sure how it all connected together anymore.
  The warlock closed his eyes and collapsed onto
the pavement as Piper felt a cold, thrilling
chill travel up her arms.
  Piper felt the warlock's body disintegrating
beneath her hands. His bones were softening, dissolving. For a
split second he stiffened and shook beneath her hands.
Then his body imploded-turned to dust-and the remainder
of his powers shot straight into Piper.
  "Whoooo!" Piper let out a squeal. Her head
reeled. Suddenly she felt lighter, stronger, as

  though she could run a marathon without even breathing
hard. She was revved, charged. Energy was streaming through
her. She'd never felt so wildly alive. This was
it! This was the surge that had lit up Prue's
life.
  With a quiet smile, Piper watched the wind
carry away the dust that had once been the warlock's
body. She closed her eyes and laughed. Power
theft! If it was so evil, why did it feel so good?

  I llOGDC W31K6Q slowly and
cautiously through the village of Salem,
Massachusetts. Prudence had sent her here
to trade butter for spices, which she'd already taken
care of. Even that simple task wasn't easy.
Phoebe had to constantly remind herself to keep her
head down, her eyes averted beneath her bonnet, her
hands tucked inside the cloak Prudence had loaned
her. People were watching her like a hawk, probably
waiting for her to fling off her clothes and dance naked
down the street.
  Phoebe would have loved to treat them to a joke or
two, but she had to behave. The last thing she needed was
more trouble, especially now that she'd come so close
to gathering a crucial ingredient for her
demon-banishing spell.

  "Soil from the earth where three roads meet" was
what The Book of Shadows had specified. In a
place and time where few roads existed, Phoebe
knew the best spot to find a true intersection was in
the village itself.
  She passed two men leading horses and dared
to lift her chin to stare ahead. At the other end of the
lane was a fork in the road, just beyond the blacksmith's
barn. Was that the three roads?
  Strolling ahead, she patted the sacks of
spices in her pockets. Most of them were for
Prudence. One was for her spell. She was getting
closer to having everything she needed. She'd already
collected some of the easy stuff, like a thimble, a
tea leaf, and two flat stones. Now she would have the
soil.
  Phoebe reached the intersection where three dirt
roads crossed each other. Works for me, she thought.
Hoping that no one would notice, she stooped behind a
barrel and scooped some dirt into a leather pouch she'd
swiped from Prudence's herb collection. Still
squatting, she was just tying it up when she heard
footsteps.
  "Do you need help over there?" called a man.
  lilting her head around the barrel, Phoebe
spotted two sets of legs-one male, one
female.
  "Oh, I'm fine, thank you," she called,
wishing they would just get lost.
  Straightening up, she found herself face-to-


  face with an older couple: a man with a full
beard and a skinny lady who looked as though she could
use a good burrito deluxe dinner.
  Phoebe dangled the small sack of dirt before
their curious eyes. "Clumsy mest" she said,
"I just dropped this on the ground. But I found it.
No problem. Off I go."
  "Wait." The man lifted his chin. "What is that
on your hand?"
  Quickly Phoebe stashed the pouch of dirt into her
pocket. Whoops! She was supposed to remember not
to go showing off her manicure.
  "Her fingers!" the skinny woman cried.
  Phoebe sighed. Did they have to freak out over some
nail polish?
  "Crimson nails!" the woman shrieked. "I
saw nails the color of blood! The girl is
riddled with sickness."
  "I am not sick!" Phoebe protested.
  "Then show us!" the man demanded. "Let us see for
ourselves."
  Was it better to show them or just hightail it out of
there? Phoebe had a feeling that if she ran, that would
just prove to them that there was something weird about her
nails. Besides, other curious villagers were gathering
around her. The odds weren't so hot that she'd actually
get away.
  Phoebe held out her hands. That darned
manicure had really held up! Some of the polish was
scratched and chipped from the back-

  breaking work she'd been doing, but overall her
nails were dark red, a crimson nightmare.
  An angry buzz rippled through the crowd. "Stand
back," the bearded man shouted, pulling his wife
away. "She has the plague. A plague upon us!
She will be the death of us all!"
  Phoebe buried her hands in the deep pockets
of Prudence's cloak. "I'm not sick," she said
quickly. "It's just... I was picking berries and my
fingers got all red from the juice." She turned to a
young woman in the crowd and looked her straight in the
eye. "You know how that happens? I hate it.
Berry juice everywhere."
  "What sort of berries are harvested in
springtime?" asked a man from the back of the crowd.
  Phoebe turned toward him and gasped. Was that a
flash of green on his skin?
  Yes! A hideous green.
  It was the demon, standing right in the mob. Glaring at
Phoebe, he shouted, "It is not a sickness we
look upon, but the very face of evil. She is a
witch!"
  "Witch?" A gasp echoed through the crowd.
  The demon in human form stepped forward. "Lock
her in the stocks," he shouted, "so that she may be
tried for the evil of witchcraft!"
  "Hold on!" Phoebe shouted. "This is so
unfair!"
  But no one was listening. The crowd shifted,


  and Phoebe stepped back as they advanced on
her. This was getting seriously scary.
  "Hey, can't we talk about this?" Phoebe
asked.
  A tall man stepped out of the crowd and grabbed
Phoebe by the arm. Phoebe struggled to break
free, but he was too strong. A moment later he was
helped by another villager who clamped his hands on
her other elbow. Her boots slid across the ground as
they dragged her down the road.
  Phoebe's heart was pounding. What were they going
to do with her?
  Then she saw the stocks. Their wooden frames and
iron clamps looked strong and unforgiving.
  If they locked her in there, she wouldn't have a
chance, especially with the green demon around to incite the
crowd. There would be no escape. No
demon-banishing. No returning home.
  Phoebe shut her eyes. She couldn't bear
to look at the waiting stocks.
  "Witch!" someone shouted.
  "Devil's spawn!" cried another.
  She opened her eyes as she felt something hit
her. Oh, gross! Someone had actually thrown an
egg.
  But drippy eggs were the least of her problems. She
was trapped, totally vulnerable and terrifyingly
alone.

  1 nOCDC PlflrCu from one man to another as
they dragged her closer to the stocks. She could feel
her pulse racing, a sure sign that panic was
setting in.
  But she couldn't let these old-school buffoons
win. She had twenty-first century know-how on her
side, didn't she? If only she'd brought a
cell phone through the time rift. You could always count on
a ringing cell phone for an annoying interruption.
  Then she remembered the spices in her pocket.
Archaic, yes, but they might provide a reasonable
distraction.
  The man on her right was holding her upper arm, but
her hand was free. She dipped it into her pocket and
felt around inside. There were


  nutmeg kernels, salt crystals, and . . .
ground pepper.
  She felt for the pepper sack with its ribbon tie.
Carefully, slowly, her fingers worked the knot
loose and slipped the ribbon away. Perfect.
  They reached the stocks, and one man got to work
unfastening the bolts to open up the ridiculous
contraption. The entire crowd watched in awe. You people
don't get out much, do you? Phoebe wanted to ask
them.
  "Hurry up, now, Will," the tall man told the
guard who was working the bolts. "We need to lock her
up quickly. We can't allow the witch to work any more of
her sorcery on us."
  Closing her hand around the pouch in her pocket,
Phoebe turned her face up to the guard at her
side. "My advice?" she said sweetly. "If
you're afraid of magic, don't mess with a Charmed
One!"
  She pulled the sack of pepper out of her pocket
and tossed it into his face. She was aiming for his
eyes, but his ncse would do, too.
  A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd as the
guard recoiled. He was sneezing furiously and
rubbing his eyes.
  "Will, are you all right?" a woman called.
  "The witch has blinded me!" he bellowed.
  "Magic dust!" someone gasped. "It came from
her crimson fingers!"
  The other guard actually ducked behind the stocks.
"Don't hurt me, witch! I beg you."

  CkApDo
  "Not today," Phoebe muttered under her breath.
"I'm all out of magic dust." Before the smell of
pepper could give her away, Phoebe tore away
from the angry pack and ran like crazy.
  Hours later Phoebe was hunkered down in the
underbrush by the spring. Up the hill she could just make
out the torches of the angry villagers clustered
outside Prudence's cottage.
  She knew that they had come for her.
  Well, at least Prudence wouldn't be lying when
she said she didn't know where Phoebe was.
Phoebe had stayed away from the cottage all
afternoon, realizing that a witch hunt was inevitable. It
took them long enough to get here. Maybe the tall guy
had some trouble getting the pepper out of his hair.
  Phoebe moved as close as she dared, hiding behind
an oak tree. From here it looked as if a few of the
villagers had gone inside to search the cottage.
  Suddenly Phoebe had a new worry. What
if the searchers found The Book of Shadows? They
might destroy it! It would be lost to the generations of
witches in her family. Definitely not how she
wanted to change the past and affect the future.
Plus, Prudence would be in serious trouble, too.
  Phoebe's heart hammered. What would happen
to little, defenseless Cassandra if the mob went after
her mother?


  "They can't find the book," Phoebe murmured
to herself, as if saying the words would make them true.
"They cannot find it!"
  Long moments later Phoebe saw the crowd
move on. They seemed disappointed. Chances were,
they hadn't found anything, but Phoebe wanted to be
sure. She waited until the mob was completely out
of sight, then crept over to the cottage. She went
up friend) the small window and peered inside the common
room.
  Prudence was there, sipping root tea and rocking
Cassandra in her arms. Phoebe nearly
collapsed with relief. If Prudence and
Cassandra were safe, then so was the book.
  Something about the sight of the mother and daughter struck
Phoebe right in her heart. Cassandra was a little
old to be held that way, but she'd probably been
frightened by the mob. And wasn't it surprising that
Prudence, for all of her mood swings, was such a
devoted mom? Somehow seeing Prudence and
Cassandra together this way made Phoebe feel all
choked up and sentimental. She wished she'd had more
time with her own mom, but she also felt good, knowing that a
mother and daughter in her distant family could be together
to comfort each other.
  Phoebe stepped back from the cabin. She knew
she couldn't go inside. There was no telling when the
villagers might double back. Besides, just seeing
Phoebe could bring out the monster in Prudence again.

  And speaking of monsters, there was still the demon
to banish.
  Earlier Phoebe had sneaked into the barn, where
she'd hidden most of the ingredients for her spell.
Now she had her collection in her pockets: a
thimble, the pouch of soil, a tea leaf, a nutmeg
kernel, and two flat stones. There were just two more
items on the list: a feather and some Queen
Anne's lace.
  Time to finish off my collection and go for it.
  "Buuk! B-buk!" a chicken clucked as
Phoebe approached the henhouse.
  "Oh, shoosh," she whispered. She didn't
want the whole flock to announce that she was here, but
she did need a feather.
  She found one wedged into a splintered board.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you," she said,
yanking it out.
  Then she was off, heading back into the dark woods
again. From her distant Girl Scout days she
remembered that Queen Anne's lace often grew
wild in the fields and close to hedges. She
figured she would recognize the delicate
off-white flower when she saw it.
  Fortunately, the half-moon in the sky was bright
enough to light parts of the ground. Watching for strangers,
Phoebe stayed close to the edge of the forest. The
woods, she figured, were her best hideout. Standing
in the middle of an open field, silhouetted
by moonlight, would not be too smart.


  Phoebe stepped over roots and rocks, and
walked into a few thorny bushes that caught at her
long skirts. An owl called and she jumped,
nearly scared out of her skin. She saw thistle and
heather and something that looked a lot like poison ivy,
but no Queen Anne's lace.
  Up ahead she saw an old log covered with
moss and mushrooms. Fertile ground-maybe a good
place to find an elusive plant. When she reached
the fat log, she noticed a light in the distance.
  A light in the middle of the woods?
  Phoebe squinted through the trees and saw an open
fire. Someone was leaning close to it, tending it with a
stick. She stepped around the log and peered around a
birch tree. Another figure sat by the fire, a
hooded cloak covering his or her features.
  Then she heard the voices-male voices.
  The man with the stick turned and Phoebe
recognized him. Hugh! What was he doing here? And
to whom was he talking?
  Phoebe worked her way around the clearing. Sneaking
from tree to tree, she crept off to the side and
pressed herself against a wide oak tree. This time,
when she swung around, she saw the face under the
hood.
  The demon! The green demon was sitting with
Hugh!

  Clink!
  Two billiard balls crashed together and flew off
to opposite comers of the green felt table. Piper
hunkered down expectantly as the eight ball
fell into the corner pocket. "Woo-hoo! I
win!"
  "No, man," a guy in a red leather jacket
called from a nearby table. "Sinking the eight ball
is bad luck."
  Piper laughed, long and hard. Who needs luck
when you've got wicked powers? she thought.
  The guy in the red jacket looked confused, but
Prue just raised an eyebrow at her.
  Actually, Piper knew that although she felt
totally exhilarated, she still didn't have a clue


  as to what her new powers might be. Not the way
Prue did when it happened to her.
  Stepping back as Prue took a shot, Piper
felt a stab of doubt. What if she didn't get
that warlock's powers after all? What if she'd been
cheated? She didn't even want to think about it, and
she didn't want to say anything to Prue-not yet.
  "You know," Prue said "we should do this more often."
  Piper leaned over the table to take a shot.
"You're not talking about playing pool, are you?"
  "No, I'm not." She lowered her voice so that
no one else would hear. "I'm talking about
warlocks. Think about it, Piper. Maybe it's our
destiny. Maybe we're supposed to destroy
warlocks and. steal their powers. We are the Charmed
Ones, right?"
  "With Phoebe," Piper reminded her sister.
"The three of us are the Charmed Ones."
  "Who's Phoebe?" Prue asked.
  Piper laughed. "Our sister, stupid. Like you
don't remember."
  Prue shot a ball into the side pocket, then
straightened. "I've got a brilliant idea.
Let's blow out of here and hit the book again. I'm
sure we can find some more very interesting stuff to do in
there."
  "Hit the books? You girls in college?"
Red Jacket asked.

  Prue rolled her eyes and motioned for Piper
to follow her.
  They ducked into the hallway and went into the
corridor by the cigarette machine. Then they touched
hands and their bodies went flat and folded
into smaller and smaller and smaller pieces...
  The next thing Piper saw was her sister
unfolding. She opened up into a 2-D image,
then became herself again in the attic of Halliwell
Manor.
  "Show-off," Piper said, shaking off Prue's
hand.
  "Just call it the origami express." Prue
grinned.
  But Piper was not amused. She didn't really
want to be here, in the house, and suddenly she felt
angry. Maybe it was being back in the dingy old
attic. Cobwebs hung from the beams. The floor
was caked in dust, and melted wax had hardened in
pools here and there. She pushed aside a box,
picked up a dress on a hanger, and used it
to wipe off a spot to sit.
  Prue was already standing at The Book of Shadows,
running her fingers over a page as if the whole thing
tickled her. The book was like an addiction to her now.
  "As I was saying," Prue murmured, "I think
we're onto something with this warlock stuff. I really
do. But something else just hit me. Why should we
limit our power-theft to warlocks?"


  "Because you can't steal power from a loaf of bread?"
Piper quipped.
  "I mean, why don't we go after witches,
too?" Prue proposed.
  Piper frowned. "You mean, good witches-like us?"
  That made Prue laugh. "Piper, when was the last
time you looked at yourself in the mirror?"
  Piper looked down at her clothes: a black
  full-length skirt, black lace
  blouse, and leather
  jacket. "What's wrong with the way I'm
dressed?"
  "Clothes don't make the witch, Piper. It's
what we're doing. We're not exactly on the
straight and narrow anymore."
  Piper wasn't sure she liked what she was
hearing, but she didn't want to argue with Prue again.
Instead, she stood up and walked over to The Book
of Shadows. Maybe they needed to find a new
spell. Something that would clear the cobwebs from the
attic and from her mind.
  "The point is," Prue went on, "warlocks
are so limited. Witches have much more interesting
skills-definitely worth stealing."
  Piper leafed through the book, flipping past disgusting
spells and nauseating recipes: spells for cursing
enemies, recipes to make children sicken. Something just
wasn't right. The Book of Shadows wasn't
supposed to include black

  magic. Piper was sure of that, but there it was.
Had the evil just appeared there? Or had it been there
all along? When she tried to straighten it out in her
mind, her brain felt sort of pinched. Or maybe
she was just getting a headache.
  She turned the page and found a spell to take
away a witch's powers. The spell required a
live human heart.
  She shuddered. "Where did all this gruesome stuff
come from? Since when do we work with human and animal
parts."
  "I don't know," Prue said. She started
pacing, a sure sign of irritation.
  "This other spell calls for the eye of a cat,"
Piper pointed out, wincing as she thought of their own
beloved Siamese. "I don't think Kit would
approve."
  "Who cares?" Prue snapped. "And you're going
off on a tangent again, Piper. You need to focus.
Think of good witches. Do we know any good witches
whose power we can take?"
  "Phoebe," Piper answered automatically.
  "Who's Phoebe?" Prue asked.
  This time Piper no longer had an answer to the question.
Wait a minute, she thought. Who is Phoebe?

  CO-LLLDNT Relieve what she was seeing.
Her pulse hammered as she pressed her cheek to the
bark of the tree, straining to hear the low, evil
voices. Hugh was meeting with the demon. Had he
been a part of the demon's plan from the beginning?
  Hugh tossed a small ldg on the fire, then
dropped his head like a sad child. "I did everything you
told me to do. I gave Prudence the root
tea-cup after cup. But the spell isn't working.
Prudence should have completely turned to the dark side
by now, but there are moments of goodness still."
  The tea!
  Phoebe bit her lip. From the first day she'd
been there, Hugh had been insisting that

  CllApDo
  Prudence drink the root tea, a tea that was part
of a spell. Maybe that explained Prudence's
bizarre mood swings.
  "The root tea has not been entirely
unsuccessfulst" the demon said with a smug smile.
"She is adding to The Book of Shadows. Every spell
she adds while under its influence is a spell of
black magic."
  Phoebe felt nauseated at the thought of the demon
using Prudence to put black magic into The Book
of Shadows. It was also pretty revolting that she'd
believed what Hugh and the demon wanted her
to believe: that Prudence was into black magic:-that her
ancestor was her enemy.
  The truth was that Prudence was enspelled and needed
Phoebe's help-and Phoebe had almost failed
her.
  "Then there's the problem of Phoebe," Hugh went
on. "What do we need her for? Why did you bring
her here at all?"
  The demon laughed. "I couldn't resist. It's
going to be a delight to watch. Phoebe will be her
own undoing. You have forgotten, I am a time demon.
Spreading evil throughout time is my specialty.
  "Your attentions to Phoebe have made the lovely
Prudence quite jealous," the demon went on. "She
is hideously ugly with jealousy. Phoebe is
helping turn Prudence evil without even knowing it!
Once Prudence is evil, her spawn will be
evil, too. The darkness will


  infect Cassandra, who will then corrupt her
daughter, and so on through the generations. Every one of the
Charmed Ones will be soldiers of the dark instead of
witches of the light."
  Phoebe gripped the tree, her nails digging
into the bark as the big ugly picture sank in.
Gram. Her mother. Piper and Prue. . . . All
the Halliwell women would be evil, horrible,
miserable creatures.
  And me, too, Phoebe realized. Her knees
were shaking under her, and she knew that it wasn't from the
cold night air.
  "It is time to take the next step," the demon
told Hugh. "A human sacrifice is in
order. I have already sent Prudence the spell in a
dream, but she is hesitating. You must strengthen your
own spell over her. Then you must instruct her
to take an innocent life."
  Hugh smiled. "But whom shall she sacrifice?"
  The demon returned bus smile. "Phoebe
Halliwell is the obvious choice, don't you
think?"
  Kill me? Phoebe pressed her cheek against the
bark, trying to be still and silent.
  Hugh got to his feet and approached the fire.
He took something from a leather pouch that hung at his
waist and threw it into the flames. Then he raised his
arms and began to chant in strange words that Phoebe
didn't rec-

  CHARMED
  ognize. She watched, astounded, as an image of
Prudence sleeping peacefully flickered in the center
of the fire while Hugh continued to chant.
  He's a warlock! Phoebe realized, her
stomach churning with disgust. How could I have missed that?
Well, for one thing, he somehow managed to disguise
all the normal warlock signs.
  The image in the flames vanished, and Hugh
turned to the demon. "The spell is in place, and
your will shall be done," he said. "Prudence will kill before
the morrow."
  Phoebe held her breath as she edged away from the
clearing. She couldn't let them hear her. She
nearly tripped over a fallen log but caught herself
at the last minute. Then, when she was a safe distance
away, she ran.
  Her heavy cloak billowed behind her as she raced
along the trail. She couldn't get the image of those
two monsters out of her head-the warlock Hugh
talking over the fire to the hideous demon. She had
suspected that the demon had brought her here for a
reason, that she was being set up for something evil. But
she'd never imagined it would be to help turn her
whole line of ancestors to black magic.
  I have to stop this from happening, Phoebe thought. If
only she could let Prue and Piper know what was
going on, what was at stake. But how could she send a
message to the future?


  Anything I do now will have an effect on the
future, Phoebe reminded herself. She reached the
end of the woods and slowed to a brisk walk. Okay,
so maybe I should engrave a message on a stone
and hope one of them sees it. Or send a
letter-except there's no mail system yet.
  She mulled over the problem all the way back
to Prudence's cottage. Peering into the window, she
saw that the common room was dark and empty. Phoebe
slipped inside and quietly perused the cottage.
Prudence and Cassandra were asleep in the back
room. Not quite sure what to do next, Phoebe
climbed onto a chair and pulled The Book of
Shadows from its spot in the rafters.
  By the light of a single candle, Phoebe searched the
book. She remembered that old Green Face had
called himself a time demon. Maybe she could find
some helpful info about that.
  But as she reached the end of the written spells, she
realized her search was useless.
  Another dead end, Phoebe thought, staring at the
open book. She turned back to a familiar page
with a bright drawing of a woman with flowers in her hair.
It was a page she'd always loved, back in the comfort
of the attic at Halliwell Manor.
  Wait. Ohhh, wait! Phoebe thought. If this
page made it through the ages and into the

  hands of the Halliwell sisters, then anything
Phoebe wrote right now would appear in The Book
of Shadows hundreds of years in the future!
  Phoebe flipped to the empty pages at the
back and went to the sideboard to grab Prudence's
writing quill and ink pot. With a deep breath, she
dipped the quill into the ink and began to write:
  "This is a (frantic!) message to Piper and
Prue: Help! It's me, Phoebe...."
  "You know, a witch-hunt isn't a bad idea
at all," Piper said, snapping onto Prue's
line of thinking. "Let's make a list of all the
witches we know with the coolest powers. Then we can go
after them in order. You know, prioritize them."
  "Exactly." Prue's blue eyes flashed with
interest. "You make the list. I'll hit the book
for a juicy, wicked spell." She laughed, but it
came out more as a cackle. The sound reminded Piper
of a crow cawing from high in a tree.
  "Something mean and rotten," Piper agreed.
Suddenly she was laughing along with Prue, laughing so
hard she couldn't go on.
  Prue stopped short when she turned the page.
"Whoa."
  "What is it?" Piper asked.
  Prue's eyes opened wide as she stared at The
Book of Shadows. "There's a message here and


  it's ... it's writing itself." She waved her
sister over with her hands. "Right now. Look!" She
grabbed Piper's sleeve and yanked her over to see
the book.
  Piper couldn't believe it. Words were scrawling
themselves onto the page in black ink. She read
aloud: ""This is a frantic message to Piper
and Prue." How weird is that? And that handwriting
is familiar."
  "You're right." Prue squinted. "Very weird."
  "Wait." Piper watched in amazement as the words
scrolled on. "It's a message from-Phoebe."
  "Phoebe?" Prue repeated.
  In a flash Piper's memory came flooding
back: Phoebe as a little girl and then as a
teenager. Phoebe making Piper laugh like no one
else. Phoebe always being one of the two people she loved
best. Phoebe discovering The Book of Shadows.
And finally, Phoebe following a warlock down an
alley and disappearing from their lives.
  And now this message ...
  "She's alive!" Piper threw an arm around
Prue's shoulders and started jumping up and down.
"Phoebe is alive!"

  g together, Piper and Prue watched in amazement
as the message scrawled itself into the book.
  This is a (frantic!) message to Piper and
Prue:
  Help! It's me, Phoebe, and I'm alive
and kicking in Salem, Massachusetts.
  Yes, Salem, land of the witch-hunt. I've
been told the year is 1676, and I'm staying with this
chick named Prudence who is actually our ancestor
(and, I guess, your namesake, Prue). She's not
a lot of help, though, since she's under an evil
spell.
  The thing is, that warlock who attacked us is
actually a time demon (whatever that


  means), and he sucked me through a portal-some
kind of time rift or something-and here I am.
  The demon is here, too, planting seeds of
evil to ruin our family. Oh, yeah-he's got a
warlock helping him. Anyway, here I am up a
river of evil without a good witch in sight-and I'm
drowning! HELP!
  Love you guys! And I miss you!
  Phoebe
  "Whoa," Piper slowly whispered. Reading
Phoebe's words had snapped her out of her passion
to steal someone else's power, and it had cleared a lot
of the haze in her mind.
  Suddenly the attic didn't look so bad. There
were just a few cobwebs and some melted wax-nothing that
a broom and dustpan couldn't fix.
  And Prue . . . Turning to her sister, Piper
no longer felt the anger and jealousy that had
overcome her lately. Prue was her sister.
Yes, sometimes she was bossy, but her heart was always,
always in the right place. Well, maybe not during the
past few days, but usually.
  was "Whoa" is right," Prue said. "Do you
realize what's happened to us? Ever since Phoebe
disappeared, we've been slipping into this black
abyss. But now, I don't know, maybe it's just
knowing that she's still alive ... somehow I feel
better again."

  "I know what you mean," Piper admitted.
  "How could we forget that we're the Charmed Ones?"
Prue asked, her brow knit with concern.
  "We were incomplete without Phoebe. But it's more
than that. We've been getting into some pretty nasty
stuff." Piper shivered. "I feel sort of...
dirty."
  "Well, cleanse your mind and start thinking of a
way to help Phoebe. We've got work to do."
Prue turned back the pages of The Book of
Shadows. "I wonder if there's a spell in here
to deal with that time demon. Let's see."
  It didn't take long to find a reference to the time
demon. According to the book, his name was Falcroft.
  was "Falcroft is very powerful, very evilst was
Piper read from the book. was 'He constantly tries
to wreak havoc in the past, present, and future."
his
  "At the moment he seems to be doing a great
job," Prue observed. She put her hands on her
hips. "So he's the one who's brought this evil
into our lives. Because of the things he's done, we've
been falling into black magic."
  Piper shook her head. "This is really scary.
If we don't banish him, things will never return
to normal. His plan to corrupt the future-and our
present-will succeed."
  A rueful look lit Prue's eyes. "So many
innocent people will get hurt."

  "And we won't even be ourselves," Piper added.
  Pacing nervously, Prue ran her fingers through her
dark hair. "So we know the demon's name:
Falcroft. Maybe we should summon him."
  "Summon a demon?" Piper winced. "Oh,
sure. Let's just ask him over for dinner or
something."
  "More like, or something." Prue went back to The
Book of Shadows. "I think there's a spell in
here that will help us summon him."
  "I'm not sure that's the smartest thing to do right
now," Piper told her sister. "I mean, once
we summon him, what do we do with him?"
  Prue frowned. "Good question."
  The candle had burned down to a stub, but Phoebe
was still reading by its light in the common room of
Prudence's cottage. She had finished her letter
to her sisters an hour earlier but had stayed up
to study the demon-banishing spell. She had all the
ingredients but one, and she was short one witch. Still,
she wanted to make sure she'd memorized every word.
A girl's got to be prepared.
  Her head bowed over the table, Phoebe froze
when she heard something stirring.
  Prudence stood in the bedroom doorway.
  "They told me you were a witch, but I knew they
were wrong." Prudence's eyes were

  CHARMED
  rimmed with dark circles. Her cheeks looked
thin and hollow and the dim light. "You're an evil
warlock. A warlock who's come to steal my powers-and
my man."
  "Oh, honey, that is so wrong," Phoebe said
earnestly. She pushed back the chair to stand up, and
Prudence went stiff with fear.
  Whipping out her hand, Prudence pointed to Phoebe
with a fierce look of concentration. Phoebe felt a
strange resistance in the air, but it didn't stop
her from standing up and taking a step toward Prudence.
  Prudence gasped, staring at her hand. "Why
isn't it working?"
  Phoebe blinked. She realized Prudence had
tried to use telekinesis to stop her, but
Prudence's powers hadn't worked, probably because
Phoebe was a Charmed One.
  "My powers are gone!" Prudence's face
twisted in agony. "It's all because of you-you and your
evil!"
  "No, no, wait a sec. lama witch. Just not
the kind that you think." Phoebe held up her hands
to calm the other woman, but Prudence saw the
movement as an attack. She staggered back,
bumping into the sideboard.
  Prudence's voice rose to a hysterical pitch.
"You have come here to take everything from me!"
  "That's not true." Phoebe moved toward her
slowly. "If you'll let me, I'd like to help
you."

  ui
  "No, stop!" Prudence fell back, groping the
counter behind her. When she raised her hand, she was
holding a long, sharp hunting knife.
  The blade glinted in the candlelight. Phoebe
swallowed hard. What had Hugh said? "The spell
is in place. Prudence will kill before the morrow."
  "You've given me no choice," Prudence said,
raising the knife. Her voice was almost a whisper,
but there was a wildness in her eyes that made Phoebe
tremble. "I have to kill you."

  i lease, Jon t Jo this! Phoebe cried.
  But Prudence's blue eyes were lit with madness.
The knife's blade sliced down toward
Phoebe's chest.
  This is the end, Phoebe realized. The end of
me. The end of future generations of good witches.
It's all over now.
  But the blade never reached her skin. Prudence
pulled her arm back, and the knife clattered to the
floor. Then she dropped to her knees and burst
into tears.
  "I can't do it," she sobbed. "I can't kill
you."
  Phoebe took a deep breath. She was still
alive. Alive was good. Lucky for her,
Prudence's mood had changed mid-knife swing.
Phoebe knelt beside Prudence and put a hand on
her shoulder.

  "Don't touch me," Prudence warned. "I'm
enchanted. Under a spell. There's no telling what
I might do to you."
  "I know all that," Phoebe said.
  Prudence gave her a look of amazement.
  "Listen," she told Prudence, "none of this is
your fault. Hugh put a spell on you. He's a
warlock, working with this gruesome demon to poison your
powers and ruin the magic powers of your
descendants."
  Phoebe jumped up and went to The Book of
Shadows. It was still open to the demon-banishing
spell. Quickly, she leafed through the book. There had
to be a way to break Hugh's enchantment.
Remembering something she'd seen there earlier,
Phoebe flipped back and smiled at what she
read: "A Spell to Splinter Enchantment."
  "Okay, Prudence, you're going to be all
better in a second." Phoebe gathered candles and
ingredients for the spell, j She found the gold
crescent-moon charm that pad once belonged
to Melinda, Prudence's mother. That would work as something
that the "Enchanted One" valued. She picked up
Cassandra's rag doll to use as a "sign of
family." Then she took a linen napkin from
Hugh's place at the table as "an evil thing to cast
away."
  Phoebe sat on the floor opposite
Prudence. She placed the doll in Prudence's
lap, then put the gold charm and napkin in a bowl
between

  CHARMED
  them. When the candles were lit, she reached across and
took the other woman's hands.
  "You're going to have to say this with me, okay?"
  Tears sparkled in Prudence's blue eyes, but
she nodded.
  Phoebe glanced over at The Book of Shadows
and recited:
  "Day to night, Night to day, Break the spell,
Cast it away."
  Across from her, Prudence was still as a stone. "Come
on, Prudence! Wake up and smell the root
tea."
  Prudence glanced up, then nodded wearily.
  "Okay, let's try it again." Phoebe
squeezed her hands, and together they chanted.
  was "Day to night, Night to day, Break the
spell, Cast it away. Day to night, night to day,
break the spell...""
  A bright golden light encircled both women. It
flashed once, then vanished. Phoebe saw that the
linen napkin was gone, too. She looked across at
Prudence, who gave her a small smile. Her
eyes were clear and bright now, her face without shadows
or dark lines.
  "The enchantment is gone," Prudence said, the joy
returning to her voice. She blew out the


  candles, then reached across to give Phoebe a
hug.
  Phoebe closed her eyes as she squeezed
Prudence tight. It felt so good to be with a friend for the
first time in days. "Welcome back to the land of
light," she said quietly.
  Prudence leaned back and smiled. "Now,
Phoebe Halliwell, help me clear the fog from
my eyes. Tell me who you really are and why you're
here."
  Phoebe handed the crescent-moon charm back
to Prudence. "First, you'll want to keep this in a
safe place. I know it's special to you."
  "Yes, it belonged to my mother." Prudence
squeezed the charm in the palm of one hand and went
pale. Suddenly her eyes were glassy and distant.
  "Prudence?" Phoebe touched her arm gently.
"What's wrong?"
  "A vision." She shuddered, obviously frightened.
  "What was it? Tell me."
  Prudence took a deep breath. "No, we
shouldn't speak of it." She turned away to light a
fire in the fireplace. "There's no time for
details. I sense that we have so much to do."
  Already the morning sun had begun to glow in the
window. As the women sat at the table, Phoebe
spoke quickly about the demon and the time rift and the
future generations of Charmed Ones. They also spoke
about Hugh.

  "I realize he's in thick with the demon,"
Prudence said, "but it's hard to believe him a
warlock. He was once a kind, gentle man.
To know he's fallen into evil is truly a
heartbreak."
  "There may be hope for him," Phoebe said. "But
first we've got to banish that demon. There's a
spell for it, and I've already collected everything we
need. Well, almost everything. Where in the world do you
find Queen Anne's lace around here?"
  Prudence laughed as she sliced off a few
slabs of bread. "I do believe there's some growing
down by the spring."
  "And I traipsed all the way out to the woods for
it."
  Prudence went to the fireplace and put the bread
on the warming rack on the fire. "I know just where
to find it. But first, there's Cassandra. I will need
to keep her safe during the next few days." She
disappeared into the bedroom and called her daughter's
name.
  Within minutes Cassandra was dressed and fed and
rubbing her eyes in early-morning confusion. "Why am
I going to visit Miss Mary Pierce?" she
asked in a squeaky voice. "Didn't we visit
her just a few days ago?"
  "She is a good friend," Prudence said
emphatically. With a gentle touch, she tied her
daughter's bonnet and handed her a parcel of
butter. "You may bring her this. I'm sure Mary
will be delighted to see you again."


  Prudence leaned down and gave her daughter a
kiss and a warm hug. "Goodbye, my dear. I do
love you." She touched her daughter's cheek, then
opened the door.
  As she closed it, Phoebe noticed her blinking
back tears. "Prudence, what did you see in that
vision?"
  Prudence just shook her head. "Have you forgotten the
first business of the day?" She opened The Book of
Shadows to the demon-banishing spell and placed a
flower in the page to mark it. "Why don't you start
setting out all the ingredients you've assembled? I
will walk down to the spring in search of the Queen
Anne's lace."
  "All right, but shake a leg, okay? We're
up against a wall here." Phoebe picked up her
cloak to remove the valuable pouches from its
pockets. She felt a new urgency, as if time
were suddenly running out.
  "Shake a leg?" Prudence asked. "You do have the
oddest manner of speech." She grabbed a shawl and
headed out the door.
  "Prue!" Piper shouted out from the attic. "I
found it! It's perfect!" She cradled a
delicate blown-glass ornament in her hand-a
sphere with tiny glass stars that rolled around inside.
The Christmas ornament had been a favorite of the
three girls as they'd grown up. Every year as they
had decorated the tree, they'd argued about

  who would get to hang the ornament. This would be
perfect.
  When the spell called for "A delicate
object of contention," both Prue and Piper had
been baffled. But Piper had set her mind to what that
object might be, and since they couldn't really use
any of their boyfriends from high school, the ornament was
the next thing that came to her.
  Hearing Prue's footsteps on the stairs,
Piper tucked a cloth into the clay bowl and gently
placed the ornament on top of it.
  "I got lucky, too," Prue called as she
rushed into the attic. In her arms she held a
rose, an egg, and a muddy old brick from the
backyard. One by one, she set the items down on
the low table.
  "That should do it," Piper said, checking the list.
"Just remind me, what are we going to do when we get
the demon here?"
  "You're going to freeze him, and I'm going
to kick him into another astral plane."
  Piper frowned. "I hope you're feeling
super-strong today."
  Prue knelt at the table to reorganize the
ingredients for the spell. "Trust me," she said,
picking up the glass ornament. "This is going
to be-was
  Crunch.
  Piper had a sick feeling in her stomach.
"What was that?"


  "The ornament!" Prue's face turned white as
she stared down at the floor. "It rolled out of my
hand."
  The ornament was shattered. Tiny pieces of
glass lay scattered on the floor.
  "Oh, no!" Piper moaned in frustration. "Now
what are we going to do?"
  "I-I don't know," Prue yelled.
  Piper rubbed her temples. "We had everything
ready a minute ago. If we could only go back
one minute-was
  Whoooosh!
  Strange sounds shot out of Piper's mouth, and she
felt herself stepping back like a robot. Prue also
made some weird sounds, then held up her hand as the
shards of glass on the floor scrambled together, formed
a ball, then leaped back into Prue's hand.
  Whooosh!
  Just as quickly as the episode began, it ended-with
Prue holding the perfect ornament, still in one
piece.
  "Unbelievable," Prue said, staring at the
ornament. She turned to Piper, and the glass ball
started to tip again.
  Piper rushed forward. "I'll take care of that,"
she said, cradling the ornament with two hands.
  Prue stood up, wiping her hands on her long,
black dress. "Did you do that? That whole
backward-time thing?"

  Piper smiled. "I think so." Gently Piper
placed the ornament in the bowl. "Could that be the new
power I got from that warlock?"
  "Piper," Prue exclaimed. "You've gained the
power to turn back time! It's exactly what we
need to rescue Phoebe!"

  I roe was pacme aeain, her bkck skirt
swaying
  behind her. "This changes everything! Now you can take
us back in time to 1676."
  Piper hoped she could get them to the right year. After
all, turning back time was a new power for her and they
couldn't indulge in a practice run.
  "And with my new powers I can zip us over
to Massachusetts." Prue folded her arms.
"It's perfect."
  "But what if we do something that alters history
in, like, this huge, devastating way?" Piper
asked.
  "We'll have to be very careful to avoid just that,"
Prue acknowledged. "It's freaky tampering with the
chain of events, but the demon's

  already doing that, and we have to stop him. This is the
only way to defeat him and rescue Phoebe."
  Pressing a new candle into a clay holder,
Piper noticed her sister's outfit: a long,
black velvet dress and velvet cloak.
"You're looking like the Wicked Witch of the West.
You'll be a huge hit in Salem."
  Prue eyed her skeptically. "And when did you
decide to go Goth? Could you get any darker with that
eye shadow?"
  Piper laughed. "Don't be shy. Tell me
what you really think." It was good to be joking with her
sister again. During these past few days their
relationship had been so completely infected with
evil. Now, finally, they were back on track.
  The two sisters joined hands. "Please, please,
let this work," Piper murmured.
  "Focus on Phoebe," Prue told her.
"On Salem Village in Massachusetts.
Because we are going to teleport back to 1676."
  Whoooosh!
  As Piper concentrated on the year 1676 she
saw Prue's body go flat and begin to fold
into smaller pieces. Then, suddenly, her whole world
exploded into magnificent pinpoints of light.
  Prudence's cottage was eerily quiet as
Phoebe waited for her to return. She had


  everything for the spell. All the ingredients were lined
up in a semicircle around the fireplace. Since
this spell required the witch to toss the ingredients
into a fire, Phoebe figured that the fireplace
would be the safest way to do it.
  The only things missing were the Queen Anne's
lace and Prudence. Where was she? Every second was
critical.
  "Here it is," Prudence called as the door
creaked open. backslash
  "At last," Phoebe sighed. "I was beginning
to think you had to teleport yourself to Tahiti to get
it."
  "What's Tahiti?" Prudence asked.
  Phoebe frowned. "I'll explain later.
Help me light these candles and let's get this
spell on the road."
  Together they lit two candles and knelt on
opposite sides of the hearth. Phoebe turned
to The Book of Shadows, which sat on the floor beside
her, and began to read aloud.
  "Friends of light and sister sun, Winter moon and
summer shower ..."
  Slam! The door banged open.
  Phoebe blinked and looked up. Hugh
Montgomery stood in the doorway, staring at them.
  "Hugh!" Prudence hitched up her skirt and
rushed over to him. "My goodness, are you feeling
poorly? You look dreadfully pale."

  Hugh's beady eyes glittered with suspicion.
"My health is fine," he answered, staring at
Phoebe. "If I am pale, it is only because
I have just seen a witch."
  No point denying it now, Phoebe decided.
She stood up. "You rang?"
  "Oh, Hugh, I do believe you misunderstand the
situation," Prudence began. "We were just... just
tending the fire and-was
  "I cannot believe what I'm seeing!" Hugh
exclaimed.
  "Please, be calm." Prudence shushed him.
  "I will not! And look what's happened to you,
suddenly with a mind and a will of your own!" All
pretense of goodness had slipped away from him. As
he scowled at Prudence, the monster within began to show
its deadly teeth. "You've turned back to the other
side!"
  Prudence was still for a moment, almost stunned.
  "Look," Phoebe told Hugh, "why don't
you just save your sweet butt and hightail it out of
here? Otherwise, it's not going to be a pretty
sight."
  Furious, Hugh spun toward Phoebe and
pointed to the fireplace. A fireball arose and
crashed at her feet.
  "Whoa!" Phoebe jumped back as sparks and
smoke filled the air. He'd missed but he'd come
too close.
  Phoebe knew he was an evil sexist warlock

  pig, but somehow she hadn't expected him to hurl
fireballs.
  "Hugh, stop it right now!" Prudence ordered.
  Still seething, Hugh summoned a second
fireball from the hearth and cast this one at Prudence.
  Immediately her hands flew up to stop it. But the
ball of fire split into a fiery rope, which wound
itself around Prudence in a flaming spiral.
  "Your powers are weak," Hugh said, scoffing at
Prudence. "Too little practice, my dear, and far
too much root tea." With a twirl of his finger, he
tightened the coils around Prudence.
  "Hugh . . . stop!" she cried out as flames
licked at her shoulders.
  "Turn off the heat, you idiot!" Phoebe
screamed at him.

  Pinpoints of light danced before Piper's eyes.
They turned into a square of light, then unfolded
to a rectangle and kept unfolding until it was a
flat version of Prue. Piper could feel the same
changes in herself as she watched her sister go 3-D
and start to move.
  Prue put her hands on her hips and glanced
around them. "So this is Salem."
  "Let's hope so." Piper glanced up at the
thatched roof of the log cabin they'd landed in front
of.

  CHARMED
  "Phoebe!" The word echoed out to them from the
cottage.
  Piper felt a mix of feelings: encouragement that
they'd landed in the right place and fear that Phoebe was
in big trouble.
  Piper and Prue turned and blasted through the wooden
door of the cottage. Inside, Piper felt her
mouth drop open as she tried to absorb the bizarre
scene.
  A beautiful blond woman struggled for her
life inside a coiled rope of flames. A
tall, dark, and handsome warlock was controlling the
coil, pulling it tighter and tighter. Phoebe
stood near the woman, trying to loosen the coils with a
fireplace poker, but her efforts were useless. The
woman was dying-slowly, excruciatingly burning
to death.
  Stop! Piper thought, casting her own spell over
them.
  Time froze, and Phoebe rushed over and nearly
collapsed in her sisters' arms.
  "I am so incredibly glad to see you,"
Phoebe murmured into Piper's shoulder.
  "We missed you, too." Piper held her two
sisters close for a moment, not wanting to let
  go-
  "Promise me you won't ever disappear like
  that again," Prue said, stepping back. "And before
Piper's freeze ends, let's fix this picture.
I take it she's the ancestor you mentioned in your
letter?" She nodded at the blond woman.


  Phoebe nodded at her sisters. "She's
Prudence Wentworth, our great-squared grandmother. And
that dude is a warlock, working for the demon. I would
have sent him packing sooner, but Prudence seems
to think he can be rehabilitated."
  "Gotcha." Using her powers, Prue quickly
unwound the flames that encircled Prudence. The
fiery rope broke into pieces that scattered to the
floor, now harmless embers. Prudence's entire
body relaxed. "Blessed be, my sisters. Thank
you."
  "No problem," Prue responded. She whisked
a chair over and knocked Hugh into it. As Piper
watched, Prue used her power to lift a ball of
yarn from the table and wind it around the man's arms,
chest, and legs a gazil-lion times.
  Phoebe reached into a jar of sticky brown goo that
Prudence had labeled Salve for Burns and began
smoothing it on Prudence's red, blistered skin.
At once, almost miraculously, the burns began
to heal.
  Piper leaned in to observe. "I'm impressed,"
she admitted. "Did you cook up that stuff?"
  Prudence blushed. "Truly I did."
  Piper tapped the cover on The Book of
Shadows. "Hope you won't mind leaving us the
recipe."
  "As long as I am able, I surely will,"
Prudence promised.

  A flutter of movement caught Piper's eye.
The freeze ended. Hugh kicked and flailed against his
bonds, cursing, "Witches! The whole lot of you
are witches!"
  "These are my sisters," Phoebe said proudly,
patting Piper and Prue on their backs.
  Prudence nodded graciously. "Thank you for . .
. for coming to our rescue. Phoebe has lifted the
enchantment on me, but the demon Falcroft has
been weaving chaos through time. We must find him and stop
him from doing any more evil."
  "Luckily, we've got everything we need for the
spell that will do that," Phoebe reported. "So
let's-was
  "Grrrr!" An animal growl rose up from the
corner of the room. Hugh was shaking violently.
Smoke rose around him.
  The yarn! Piper noticed. It was burning away!
  Hugh broke free and bolted out of the chair.
Piper was about to freeze time when Hugh blinked himself
out of the picture.
  She sighed. "Sorry, guys. He was too fast
for me."
  "It's okay." Phoebe patted her shoulder,
then crossed to the door. "I know where to find him."
  "I'll go with you," Prudence said, grabbing her
cloak.
  "Wait. You guys?" Prue interrupted.
Piper


  turned to see her sister already staring out the window,
squinting into the distance. "I don't think you want
to be running into that mob of people out there."
  The others rushed to join Prue at the window.
Down at the bottom of a grassy hill, Piper
saw a band of villagers moving closer. Though it was
morning, they were carrying torches. The sight made
Phoebe very uneasy.
  "The villagers," Prudence said. "I knew
they'd be back. But not so soon."
  The entire group swarmed to a stop as Hugh
approached and spoke with their leader.
  "Somehow I don't think he's singing our
praises," Phoebe observed.
  The villagers ran toward Prudence's
cottage. As they drew closer, Piper could see
the rage that swept through them. Someone in the mob started
a chant, and it began to ripple stronger, louder.
  "What are they saying?" Prue asked.
  Phoebe frowned. "Rhymes with hitch, and it
isn't the b word."
  "Witch ... witch ... witch ..."
  The entire ground seemed to rumble as the mob
approached the cottage. "Okay," Piper said.
"Now this is officially scary."
  Outside, the leader shouted out a message. "We
have come for the witch Phoebe!"
  "Phoebe?" Piper blinked in surprise.
"How do they even know you?"

  Phoebe bit her lip nervously. "What can I
say? I make an impression."
  Fists began pounding against the wooden door.
Once again, the crowd began to chant. "Give us the
witch! Give us the witch! Give us the witch!"
  "Watch out!" Prue screamed as someone hurled a
rock toward the window.
  Piper ducked and Prudence, Phoebe, and
Prue scrambled away from the window just seconds before
the rock shattered the glass.
  Another rock flew through the now-open window.
  "At least the window's too small for anyone
to crawl though," Phoebe pointed out.
  "Come to the back room!" Prudence said. "There
are no windows there."
  "I don't think windows are the only problem,"
Piper said nervously. The cottage's heavy
wooden door was shaking, the blows against it much louder
now. The mob's frenzy was growing more and more intense.
The chant was almost deafening now.
  "The witch Phoebe must be hanged!"

  Femaps it would be best if i spoke to them,"
  Prudence said.
  "Don't open that door!" Piper insisted.
"Maybe they'll just go away."
  "No, they won't," Phoebe said. She went
to the door and put her hand on the bolt to slide it
open. "They've been her@l once before. This time they
won't go away empty-handed."
  Piper placed her hand on the heavy wooden
door, holding it closed. "We are not going to make
it easy for them."
  "Hello?" Phoebe held up her hands. "Do
I need to remind you that we are standing in a
thatched-roof house, surrounded by an angry mob of
people carrying torches? We are kindling for the fire."
She threw open the bolt.

  "I'm going out there. If it gets too ugly, you
can freeze time," she told Piper. "And we'll
take it from there."
  "This is against my better judgment," Piper
announced as Phoebe threw open the door. She
followed her sister out the door. There were only
twenty or so people gathered in front of the cottage, but
the hatred that gleamed in their eyes was so intense, she
could almost feel "it piercing her skin.
  "There she is!" one of the men shouted. "Tie up
her hands before she can cast another evil spell."
  Two men stepped out of the crowd and moved toward
Phoebe.
  Piper and Prue quickly pulled their sister behind
them, and Prudence stepped forward. "Good people of
Salem, please listen to me. It would be a
mistake to harm this young woman."
  The two men paused, and the crowd stood silent.
Piper wondered if they were reconsidering, when Hugh
stepped forward.
  "Prudence Wentworth speaks the truth," he
said. "Phoebe is not the witch among us. The true
source of evil is Prudence herself!"
  A murmur rose from the crowd. It quickly turned
into heated demands for "death to the witches!"
  "I have proof that the Widow Wentworth is the real
witch," Hugh went on. "It was she who put a
spell on Phoebe when she arrived in

  our village-a spell to melt her clothing as a
flame melts the wax of a candle."
  "No way!" Phoebe said. "Prudence had
nothing to do with my clothes. That was all because of you and your
demon friend, Hugh. And speaking of witchcraft,
who's the warlock around here?"
  Hugh suddenly looked all sympathetic. "The
poor child is crazy as a loon. You can't believe
anything she says."
  "You're all jumping to conclusions," Prue
broke in. "Has this woman ever done anything
to harm any of you?"
  "She may have harmed a baby," Hugh said. "It
was because of Prudence that Mrs. Gibbs's baby was not
born. The child was on its way, but Prudence cast a
spell of postponement over it. I saw this with my own
eyes!"
  "The child was not ready to be born," Prudence
protested. "It would not have survived, but now it has
a chance."
  "The Widow Wentworth is the true witch! Not
this feeble-minded g rl," a woman called out,
pointing at Phoebe.
  "Prudence Wentworth is the one who must be
hanged!" a burly man agreed.
  "Hang her! Hang her! Hang the witch!"
  Before any of the Charmed Ones had time to react,
two men grabbed Prudence and began tying her hands
together with rope.
  "No, not a hanging," Hugh said, jumping

  into the fray again. "A cleansing is in order. We
must douse the evil from her completely by drowning her."
  "Drowning!" the crowd echoed.
  Prudence paled, looking as though she was about
to faint.
  Piper had seen enough. She turned to put a
freeze on this whole ugly mob scene.
  "Piper, no!" Prudence called to her.
"Don't interfere. I had a vision ... a vision
of my destiny, I think. I was underwater, bound,
unable to move or breathe. I believe it is what
must be, and if I let you meddle with the events of
history, the whole world will be altered. You may not
even exist in the future."
  Prue winced. "She might be right." She turned
to Prudence. "But how do we know the vision is your
destiny?"
  "It was so strong," Prudence admitted. "It must
be."
  One guard stopped tying Prudence's hands to eye
her fearfully. "Quiet, witch," he ordered.
  Tears sparkled in Phoebe's eyes as she
reached out to grasp Prudence's hands. "We can't
let you go."
  "But you must," Prudence insisted. "You cannot risk
altering your futures." Already the two men were pulling
her away. With a graceful nod of her head, she said
goodbye to the Charmed Ones, then turned and marched off
with the villagers to prepare for her "trial."

  us
  "So what are we supposed to do?" Piper asked.
"Stand here while an angry mob murders our
distant ancestor?"
  "No! We have to save her," Phoebe insisted.
  "I know you want to," Prue said. "But as long
as that time demon's running around, we can't save
Prudence. He can totally thwart any attempts
we make. We have to take care of him first." I
  Piper frowned. "As mbch as I hate to admit
it, you're right," she agreed. "Demon first, drowning
later."
  "And don't forget about Hugh," Phoebe
reminded her sisters. "He needs to get what's coming
to him, too."
  "Right. But first, Falcroft. Any idea where we
might find him?" Piper asked as Phoebe shoved
an odd assortment of items into the pockets of her
cloak.
  Phoebe nodded. "I hope you're wearing your
hiking boots, because we're going on a nature
walk."
  Piper and Prue tramped along beside their sister,
crossing wide fields, then stepping over tree
roots across the trail. Soon they were wending their
way through the forest.
  "Shhhh!" Phoebe shushed her sisters for the
zillionth time. "You guys sound like a pack of
elephants tromping around like that."
  "If you knew exactly where it was, I could
teleport us there," Prue said.

  "Teleporting?" Phoebe's eyebrows lifted.
"What's that? A new power? I must say I'm
impressed-and a little jealous."
  "Don't be," Prue said. "It's just a
sordid part of our wicked future, one of the awful
things that are going to happen if we don't get rid
of this demon."
  "Quiet," Piper warned them. "I see something
through those trees." Although she couldn't see faces,
one man sat facing the small bonfire. Another
figure in a dark, hooded cloak was on his feet,
gesturing wildly with bony arms.
  Phoebe stepped closer to- the light and leaned
behind a tree. "That's them-Hugh and the demon.
Falcroft is the skinny one wearing black from head
to toe. You'll see why when we get closer. Every
day is a bad skin day for that monster."
  Prue pointed to a clump of bushes not far from the
fire. "If we can get closer, we'll be able
to hear what they're saying."
  Staying low, they sneaked ahead.
  "How could you be such a fool!" the demon nearly
spat at Hugh. "Phoebe is supposed to be
dead before Prudence is tried as a witch! How could
you make such a huge mistake?"
  "I didn't think it mattered," Hugh said,
tossing a stick into the fire. "What's the difference?
I can kill Phoebe myself."
  "You defied my orders!" the demon


  growled. As he swung around toward Hugh,
Piper got her first glimpse of the demon's face:
a huge brow ridge, swollen eyes, and scarred,
seeping wounds on his gelatinous green skin. She
winced. Phoebe was right. He was hideous.
  Falcroft leaped forward and lifted Hugh to his
feet. "You have failed as a warlock! And I cannot
tolerate failure." The skin on his face was
taut now, revealing rows of jagged, half-rotten
teeth.
  Obviously frightened, Hugh tried to step back,
but Falcroft's fingers ripped into the flesh of his
arms. Hugh cried out as blood seeped through his
sleeves.
  "You . . . you're hurting me," Hugh gasped.
He squirmed and flailed but couldn't tear himself
away from the demon's grip.
  Falcroft grinned, his jagged teeth almost grazing
Hugh's face. "Oh, that is just the beginning."
  "Think we ought to in terfere?" Piper whispered
to her sisters.
  "No!" came the instant answer.
  "If you cannot obey me, then you shall still be useful,"
the demon told Hugh. "You shall feed me."
  He gripped Hugh's shoulder with one green hand,
Hugh's elbow with another. His rotting razor-edged
teeth sank into the warlock's biceps.

  Hugh let out a scream of anguish that made
Piper's heart lurch. She knew he was an evil
warlock who had as good as murdered Prudence, but
still...
  Hugh's blood dripped down the demon's chin as
he contentedly munched away. Hugh was struggling,
sobbing, and clearly weakening. He sank to his
knees as the demon's teeth snapped through the bone.
  "Girls," Phoebe whispered, "I don't
think I want to see this." She hid her face in
her hands.
  The demon's green lips stretched wide as he
opened his mouth. Piper watched in amazement as his
mouth continued to stretch, until it was a huge, gaping
green hole.
  Then, as Hugh screamed in anguish, the demon
bit off his head.

  True closed tier eyesr but there was no blocking
  out the gruesome image of the demon devouring Hugh.
  "Ugh!" Piper sighed and leaned into Prue.
Prue touched her back gently as the wretched sounds
went on-the crunching, chewing sounds.
  Prue didn't want to go anywhere near the
bloody scene, but she knew that Falcroft was
totally engrossed in finishing off Hugh. If the
Charmed Ones were going to strike, now was the time.
  "Phoebe," she whispered. "Do you have all the
ingredients for the spell?"
  Phoebe nodded. "I put everything in one pouch."
She reached into her pocket and strug-

  gled to yank something out. At last a lumpy leather
pouch emerged. "Here."
  "Okay," Prue said. "Let's do it."
  Piper held her head down and kept her eyes
to the ground. "This is gross." Her voice sounded
weak. "I feel really sick."
  "I know," Prue admitted. "But concentrate
on the spell. Do you remember it?" Piper nodded.
Phoebe had recited it for them at least ten times
on the way here.
  "Ready?" When Piper and Phoebe nodded,
Prue linked arms with them. "Let's go."
  The three Charmed Ones moved around the bushes and
forged ahead. Prue struggled to keep herself from shaking.
She had to be strong. Her sisters were relying on
her.
  "Remember the Power of Three," she said as they
strode ahead.
  The sound of her voice alerted the demon. He
raised his bloodstained face, his bulging eyes
locking on them, but the sisters kept moving toward
him.
  "What's this?" he asked. "Three more for dinner?"
  "Have a good laugh," Phoebe said. "It's your
last one."
  Finally, when they were close enough to the fire,
Phoebe lifted the pouch to the sky, then tossed it
into the fire.
  "The chant," Prue prompted. "Quickly."
  Together Prue, Piper and Phoebe chanted:

  ni
  "Friends of light and sister sun, Winter moon and
summer shower, Send this demon back to darkness,
Banish him, destroy his power."
  Suddenly the fire flared green, purple, and
bright blue. The demon's pimply green skin
puffed up from his body, as though he were about to explode
from inside.
  Iridescent sparks began to shoot from the fire,
and the demon howled in pain.
  Prue squeezed her sisters' hands tighter as the
flames rose up, looming over their heads.
  "Should we move back?" Piper asked.
  "No!" Prue shouted. "We need to stand our
ground. The Power of Three will set us free!"
  "The Power of Three will set us free!" they
chanted together.
  Red, blue, green, and purple flames shot
up into the shape of a giant hand. The sisters watched
in awe and fear as the hand reached far beyond the source of the
fire and enveloped Falcroft. Prue blinked.
Though the flames were licking right over her head, she
felt no heat at all.
  The giant hand lifted the demon off his feet and
consumed him. His wretched, pathetic cry echoed as the
spell pulled him out of time and space, depositing
him in an eternal abyss.
  Then it was all over. The fire, now just a few
ashen logs, hissed quietly. Birds chirped out-

  side the clearing. A squirrel scrambled up a
nearby tree. Prue felt a rush of relief.
Life would go on, and it would be good.
  At least, the Halliwell line of witches would
be practicing white magic, and the world was sure to be
a better place for it.
  "Awesome," Phoebe said. Kicking that demon's
butt back to hell had left her feeling really
wired.
  "I am so glad that spell worked," Piper said.
"Can we go home now?"
  "No way! What about Prudence?" Phoebe
reminded them.
  "That's a good question," Prue said. "We
probably have the power to save her, but think about it.
If we save her, is it going to screw up the
future? I mean, every single one of our ancestors
could be affected by this."
  A thoughtful look crossed Piper's face as she
bit her lower lip. "Phoebe, maybe what's
happening to Prudence is what's supposed to be."
  "No. No way. I will not accept that. Besides,
how do you know we're not supposed to save her?"
Phoebe argued. "Maybe we were sent back here
for a reason-that reason." She paused. "I know it's
right to save Prudence. I can feel it!" Phoebe
argued.
  "Is that enough?" Piper asked.
  "It is for me," Phoebe answered. "And I
don't care what either of you say. I'm going
to rescue her!"


  She thrust her hands deep in the pockets of
Prudence's cloak and felt something hard and
metallic. Phoebe fished it out. It was the
crescent moon, the gold charm that had belonged
to Melinda Warren, Prudence's mother. Phoebe
pressed it in her hand, wondering how it got in the
cloak.
  Whooosh!
  A vision seeped into her mind. A wet, distorted
view of light. Everything wavy and in motion. She was
underwater. No. No, she saw Prudence underwater,
struggling and choking. Oh, no! This was Prudence's
own vision of drowning!
  But then the wooden chair Prudence was tied to was
lifted, and Prudence rose out of the water! She
gasped and coughed, then smiled at three familiar
faces.
  "The Power of Three," Phoebe said aloud.
  "Phoebe?" Piper squeezed her hand.
"Honey, are you okay?"
  When Phoebe related the details of the vision
to her sisters, they seemed confused at first.
  "With the Power of Three, we can make it happen.
Prudence doesn't have to die," Phoebe insisted.
"Either way, Cassandra will grow up and have children and
pass The Book of Shadows on to her daughters.
But we can let that little girl have her mom and save
someone who's really become a good friend. Please, can
you trust me on this one?"

  Prue frowned. "I think Phoebe's right," she
said. "This fits in with everything we vowed to do. We
can't leave here without trying to save Prudence."
  "Okay, fine," Piper said, holding up her
hands. "So where do you go in town to drown a witch?"
  It wasn't difficult to find Prudence. Most
of the villagers had gathered at the pond that lay
halfway between Prudence's cabin and the center of the
village.
  Near the edge of the pond a man was hammering at a
wooden contraption made of thick beams that connected
to a wooden chair.
  "We've never had a ducking stool in Salem
Village before," he was saying to the man next to him.
"But it should serve well for drowning a witch."
  Prudence sat in the chair, tied to it by thick
ropes. She seemed dazed, almost resigned to her
fate. She's probably in shock, Phoebe thought
as she pulled the reins on the horse, bumping to a
stop.
  "Hang toward the back," Prue told her
sisters. "Just let things go on as planned."
  Phoebe nodded. Let the villagers have their
witch-dunking, because when the board came back up,
they'd be in for the surprise of their lives.
  The man drove one more nail into the


  beams. "Done," he said, standing back. "Let the
witch meet her fate!"
  The crowd cheered as the chair that Prudence sat in
was hoisted over the pond.
  The man with the waxy face cleared his throat.
"Evil must be cleansed from Salem," he
proclaimed. "May these waters wash the evil from the
witch's soul! Hold her under until she is
drowned!"
  The crowd cheered again, and the chair with Prudence in it
was lowered. Phoebe's heart was in her throat as she
watched Prudence's head disappear beneath the
slate-gray water.
  Then, just as planned, Piper froze time.
  The Halliwell sisters hurried to the edge of the
pond. Prue leaned over the water and used her
powers to raise the stool out of the water and set it
back on the shore. A split second later her
powers cut through the ropes, freeing a choking,
sputtering Prudence.
  "Oh, blessed be," she gasped. "It's you."
  "Yup." Piper grinned. "I decided
to freeze time after all. Just a little later."
  Helping Prudence to her feet, Prue explained
how they'd taken care of the demon. "And then
Phoebe had a vision-was
  "Of you coming out of the water," Phoebe interrupted.
"I knew it was possible to save you without interrupting
the chain of events. But before Piper's freeze ends,
you have to get

  out of here. Pick up Cassandra, ride out of
Salem, and never come back."
  "Indeed," Prudence said. She climbed into the
seat of the cart and bit her lip, holding back
tears. "How can I ever thank you-all of you?"
  "We should be thanking you," Phoebe said. "You're
sort of our grandmother."
  "Now go," Prue ordered. "Before someone sees
you!"
  After a tearful wave, Prudence bolted down the
lane. The Charmed Ones watched until she crested
a hill and disappeared from sight.
  "Whoops," Prue said. "One more detail
to take care of." She focused her powers on the
empty ducking stool. It rose into the air then
sank back into the waters of the pond just as Piper's
freeze wore off.
  Phoebe stood for a moment to watch the
bloodthirsty villagers lift the empty chair from
the water.
  "The witch is gone!" Wax Man cried.
  "Vanished!" added another.
  Two men waded into the pond, peering into its murky
depths for a trace of Prudence's body. Nothing was
there.
  "She used her magic to escape!" Wax Man
proclaimed. "Is this not proof that she was a witch?"
  For once you are right, Phoebe thought with
satisfaction.

  tO rUS-HAVE thingSo, but we'd better get
back," Piper said. "We stole our teleporting
powers from warlocks. Now that we've gotten rid of
Falcroft, well, the same evil doesn't exist
in our futures. We actually undid it."
  Phoebe squinted at her. "Say what?"
  "We'll explain later," Prue said. "The thing
is, we'd better get back to San Francisco
in the new millennium while we still can."
  They ducked behind an oak tree and formed a
circle. Taking her sisters' hands, Phoebe
watched in wonder as they folded in half over and
over again until they were tiny pieces. They
exploded into tiny star-bursts.
  The star-bursts danced momentarily, then burst into a
square piece, which unfolded

  again and again until the picture of Piper and
Prue was complete. Phoebe stared at the wonder of
it all when that picture became three-dimensional.
Suddenly Piper and Prue were standing on a side
street in North Beach about a block away from where
they'd been shopping just a few eons ago.
  "I can't believe you stole warlocks' powers, you
nasty girls," Phoebe said, punching Piper in the
shoulder.
  "We're really not proud of it," Prue said.
"But, actually, I'm a little confused as to whether we
did or not. I mean, with the demon gone, The Book
of Shadows won't have those evil spells in it and we
wouldn't have been able to do what we did."
  Phoebe held up her hands. "Whatever." It was
a deliriously crisp, sunny morning, and she
didn't want to waste it on logic.
  "You know," Piper said, nudging Prue, "you never
did get those boots."
  Prue grinned. "Which was exactly what I was
thinking when I teleported us back to this spot. Not
to mention that Phoebe could use a bit of a makeover.
That dress is positively Pilgrim."
  "Me?" Phoebe looked from Piper to Prue.
"I think we're overlooking that someone here has two
black eyes, and another someone is dressed like
Vampira."
  "So we'll all get makeovers," Piper said,
linking arms with her sisters.

  "Thanks, guys," Phoebe said. "For everything.
I'd be dead in Salem without you, and so would
Prudence. I'm so glad we could save her."
  "And let's not forget the way that we banished that
ugly green demon," Piper added.
  Prue licked one finger and checked off an
invisible "one" in the air. "One demon down. A
few million more to go."
  "Count me in," Phoebe said, striding ahead.
"Besides, you need me for the Power of Three." Just knowing
she was needed for something very important in the here and now
made Phoebe smile.
  She was one of the Charmed Ones, and that was all that
mattered.


  About the Author
  Rosalind Noonan has written more than two
dozen books for children'and young adults. She has two
sisters and likes Charmed because of the sister dynamic.
She lives in Bayside, New York, and has
two children.