The War on Witches (6 page)

It was possible that Prue was being overly sensitive. It wasn't surprising that Piper wanted to spend time with her. But their father abandoned them when they were kids. It took them years to get past it. She didn't want to be the reason Piper's kids were missing their mommy.

But this was a conversation for another time. An Innocent had her powers violently ripped from her. Maybe more Innocents were out there in need of protection. Besides, Prue really did like the company. She and Cole had hardly been close friends. It was still awkward having him around at times.

“We start by narrowing down what we need.” Prue moved to the center of the room and raised her arms. “The odds are slim that a copy of the book you described is in here. Like I said, I don't seem to be able to duplicate actual books of magic. But one of the books
about
magic might point us in the right direction. So, let's start with the ones that describe books of magic. Nonfiction.”

Prue felt her body rise from the ground as a dozen books floated out from the shelves surrounding her.

“He called it a Book of Light,” Piper suggested. “It might have some religious implications. It might not.”

“Got it,” Prue said as more books emerged from the shelves.

“You can dismiss the ones that are actual religious texts,” Cole said. “They wouldn't deal with magic. At least, not in the way we need them to.”

Prue nodded as a few books slid back into place.

“And the ones that don't cover witches,” Piper added as more books went back to their homes. “This attack seemed very specific. I don't think this guy is going after fairies or leprechauns.”

This still left hundreds of books hovering in the air. They'd be researching for days, if not weeks. But Prue wasn't done. “Now let's cross-reference power stripping, witches, and Books of Light.”

A few dozen more books floated back to the shelves. Great strides had been made with the Internet since Prue's death, but she'd found that it still didn't compare to the collected obscure wisdom found in ancient texts. If only she'd had this power during college! It would have made researching her papers for art history so much easier.

As Prue took in the books floating around the room, she noticed that they weren't all above her. Books surrounded her at eye level and below her feet. She was no longer a few inches off the ground as she'd been when she started. She had risen almost all the way to the ceiling of the impossibly tall room. Dozens upon dozens of books hovered between her and the ground. Piper and Cole looked so small beneath her, but she could still see how wide their eyes were. So this is what it felt like when Phoebe floated into the air. It was kind of cool.

Prue gathered the books into stacks as she floated back to her sister and Cole. The stacks were still taller than each of them as they came down to the floor.

“It's a start,” Prue said.

“Let's get cracking,” Piper said, throwing more enthusiasm into the task than she usually did.

Prue and Cole shared another look. Piper's enthusiasm would help them get through this monotonous task, but Prue was going to have to talk to her about it sooner or later. She needed to expend some of that same interest in her restaurant and her family.

Not necessarily in that order.

Alleys and bathroom stalls. Since Paige received her magical ability to teleport herself anywhere in the world, she had seen more alleyways and bathroom stalls than she had ever seen before in her life. It was only logical that the most convenient places to materialize out of thin air would be the last places anyone would want to hang out voluntarily.

Paige listened at the stall door to make sure she was alone. It seemed like the coast was clear, so she made her move. Out of habit, she went to wash her hands before exiting to the hall. She decided to continue the action, pumping out some soap and running the cool water through her fingers. She hadn't cleaned up properly since crawling around on the floor of the computer repair shop and it really had been kind of gross down there.

Once out in the hall, she worried less about people wondering how she had suddenly turned up at her husband's office without signing in and going through security below. The influx of security cameras inside and outside every building in San Francisco made orbing hard enough these days. She wasn't planning to go overboard, especially if she could make it in and out of the building before anyone besides Henry realized she was there.

Paige had to laugh when she stepped into Henry's office to find that he was the only one there. The extra precaution of orbing into a bathroom had been completely unnecessary. The smile on Henry's face when he saw her let Paige know she was a welcome distraction from his day. Henry got up to give her a kiss. “This is a nice surprise,” he said. “Business or pleasure?”

“Little of both,” she replied. “I could use a break from Halliwell's.”

“And you figured a bit of demon vanquishing was the perfect way to rest?”

“Sometimes it's nice to blow things up,” Paige said. “If only I had Piper's power to go along with her responsibilities. At least we'll be able to move home soon and be back in our own space.”

Henry's smile tightened.

Paige did not like the look. “What?”

“What I'm about to tell you is ultimately a good thing,” Henry said.

“If it were a good thing, you wouldn't have to prepare me for it in advance,” Paige replied. “If it were really a good thing, I'd know that without being told.”

“True,” Henry agreed. “It's a crappy thing. But it's good that we can get it taken care of now.”

“I need to sit down for this, don't I?” Paige dropped into his guest chair without waiting for a reply. “Okay. Hit me. The contractor discovered our house was built on top of some kind of ancient burial ground.”

Henry sat in the guest chair beside her. “That wouldn't be a problem. I'd know just the sisters to call to do a little ghostbusting.”

“Henry?”

“It's asbestos,” he said. “In the attic. And the walls.”

Paige could not believe her ears. They were raising their children in a house built with a potentially toxic material. Was it in the bedrooms? How many nights had their kids slept in a house where the air was a potential hazard? Henry was right that it was better to know that information. But it certainly wasn't good news by any stretch of the imagination.

“How long?” Paige asked.

“The removal and repairs should take another week,” Henry replied. “But since our house is already taking so much longer than the initial estimate, the crew is contracted for another job so it might take a bit longer for them to be available to start the project.”

“And we'll have to stay with Piper and Leo while we wait,” Paige said.

“We could get a hotel room for a bit,” Henry suggested. “But with the cost of the repairs, I'm not sure we can swing it.”

“Oh, no,” Paige said. “Piper owes me at this point. In the meantime, we need to think about suing the home inspector we used when we bought the place. After this, the faulty wiring they found, and the rotted pipes, I have to wonder if the guy was really licensed to do the job.”

“Already looking into it,” Henry said. “And speaking of looking into things?”

For a moment, Paige had forgotten the reason she'd come to see her husband at work. Massive home repairs could easily distract from normal life. Or abnormal life, as the case may be.

“Someone's attacking witches,” Paige said. “Or, just one witch so far. That's what I was hoping you could find out.”

Paige gave him the details on the attack in Hartford, knowing it was a long shot that he'd be able to dig anything up for her. It was hard enough for the parole officer to use the city's official channels to identify supernatural crimes in San Francisco. Going outside the city limits called for even more favors. Across the country might be a few connections too far.

“I can try Inspector Clauson,” Henry said, naming one of his coworkers. “He's got contacts on the East Coast. But it's easier if I can offer him something in return.”

“Dinner at Halliwell's,” Paige said as she got up. “Anything he wants on or off the menu. And full access to the wine cellar.”

Henry stood as well, taking his wife into his arms. “Sounds like you're ready to give him Halliwell's right along with it.”

“That would free up some of my time,” Paige said.

“You know, we do have enough saved up for one night in a hotel,” Henry suggested.

“I really don't see us crammed into a hotel room with the kids all that relaxing,” Paige replied.

Henry gave her a kiss. “Who said anything about the kids?”

Paige smiled. “I like the way you think.” Maybe it was time that Piper spent a night at home watching six kids while Paige was off who knew where. It was a tempting idea, but they'd never be able to slip away while someone was out there attacking witches.

They'd have to figure out the solution to this problem as quickly as possible.

Paige kissed her husband one last time before checking to make sure that they were still alone. With no prying eyes to see, Paige orbed off to continue her investigation.

Austin still couldn't figure out what he was doing at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in the middle of the day. He was supposed to be in bioethics questioning the morality of the latest breakthroughs in scientific research. Professor Cahill was a notoriously harsh grader. Her tests were legendary at school, picking up on the most minute details from her lectures. No amount of borrowed notes could help the fact that missing a single class was tantamount to dropping one letter grade on an exam. And yet, here he was staring up at a painting of what appeared to be a woman crying over the body of her infant child. It was a morbid subject, and he suspected it wasn't an accident that they were standing in front of this particular piece of artwork.

“You're having second thoughts,” the man beside him said.

Austin's hands squeezed the old book in his hands. “And third. And fourth.”

“I understand. It's not an easy task that I ask of you.”

“The job's easy enough, Isaac,” Austin said. “Throw some glittery herbs on some poor, unsuspecting girl and chant some gobbledygook. What I don't get is—why?”

Isaac's dark eyes narrowed. “Austin, we have been over this—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Avenge my parents' death. Get back what was stolen from me.” Austin took his eyes off the painting and gave his companion a hard look. “I saw the girl you want me to do this to. She's not any older than me. She can't possibly be the witch that killed my parents unless she slipped it in between snacks and naptime at her daycare. How do I even know my parents
were
witch hunters? I barely remember them. And you're the only one that seems to know that aspect of their lives. Mom-Mom just thinks they were accountants.”

“Of course she wouldn't know,” Isaac replied, brushing a hand through his long, black hair. “Nor should anyone on your mother's side of the family. Your parents accepted a calling that came down through your father's lineage. You are the last surviving member of that line.”

“But how do I
know
that's true?” Austin asked. “Look, Isaac, you seem like a normal-enough guy for someone who believes in witches and magic and all that. And I appreciate you helping me out with school. I never could have gotten into college without you. But when I accepted that scholarship, I didn't know it came with supernatural strings attached.”

The man placed a hand on Austin's shoulder. It was probably intended to be reassuring, but it felt creepy. “Austin, I assure you, there are no strings. If you want to leave the museum right now, I will not stop you. I only asked for your help because it was what I thought you wanted. When I read your stirring college essay about the questions you still have about your parents' deaths I knew immediately that it was meant to be. That I could give you the closure you sought. The fact that I, of all people, was in a position to read that letter and make the connection that brings you to this place of understanding . . . well, I couldn't
not
help, could I? I never imagined my work with the college and my scholarship program would ever put me together with someone like you.”

Austin ignored the emotional manipulation and focused on the important part of his speech. “So I can leave?”

The man took the old book from Austin. “Absolutely. But I need you to make the decision now. I don't have much time for discussion. Other agents are on the move today. Jacob, with whom you spoke earlier, already rendered a witch powerless. Emily will be moving on another more powerful witch after we are done here. We can't delay any longer, for fear that the witches will discover what we are up to and try to stop us. I have been planning this for years. It is time to act.”

“So you've got someone else that could fill in for me?” Austin asked.

“Not in this city. And there's no time to redirect someone,” he said. “I'm afraid this witch will have to be taken care of in another fashion.”

Austin didn't like the sound of that. “What's that mean? Can't you just, like, fill in for me?”

“As I've explained, Austin, I've been touched directly by the evils of witchcraft. Unlike you, who were with your grandparents on the night your parents were attacked, I was with my family when the witches ripped them from me. I had to watch as they cruelly stole the lives of my wife and daughter. Their evil powers overwhelmed me and left me in a coma for days. I didn't even find out that my family was gone until after I awoke. A shadow of that magic remains attached to me forever. I cannot wield the Book of Light. Only a pure human can access its power. An Innocent, like you.”

“Umm . . . I'm not exactly ‘innocent,' per se.”

“In this case, I mean someone untouched by magic,” Isaac clarified.

“Okay, I get that,” Austin said. “But what do you mean about taking care of the witch ‘in another fashion'?”

Isaac pressed down on his jacket, revealing the outline of something in his inside pocket. It was a move Austin had only seen on television, but the guy was comfortable enough with it that it seemed he'd done it before in real life. It wasn't impossible to think that Isaac could have slipped a gun past the guards. Even with the metal detectors by the entrance, it wasn't like the museum had impenetrable security. The empty suits of armor in the Arms and Armor exhibit were more threatening than the former cops who worked there, looking to spend their retirement in peace in the generally quiet museum.

“You're going to kill her?” Austin glanced into the next room. The witch in question was about his age and didn't seem like she could have killed anyone. She looked carefree sitting on the bench as she sketched the sculpture in front of her on her drawing pad. Maybe she was even a student at his own school. The university was renowned for its art department. She might have even taken the same train into the city that he did.

“At this point, there's no other choice,” Isaac said. “The wheels are already in motion. If we leave even one of our targets with her magic, that may be enough to ensure our own doom. You have never witnessed a witch attack with her full powers. I hope you never do.”

“But—you'd really
kill
her?”

“It's my only choice,” Isaac said. “Now that you're hesitant to take her magic.”

Austin knew he was being manipulated, but he couldn't take the risk that Isaac wouldn't follow through on his threat. Austin found the intensity in Isaac's eyes unsettling. If there was any chance of saving this girl, it was by doing what Austin had been brought there to do.

It wasn't like he'd be hurting her. Isaac had promised that she wouldn't feel a thing. All Austin was going to do was take away her dark magic. She'd be normal, like everybody else. If anything, he could be helping her live a full life outside of evil influences. Maybe she'd never even used her witchcraft and wouldn't miss it.

Austin took the old book back from Isaac with renewed interest. He could do this, in spite of the smirk on Isaac's face that made Austin feel dirty and maybe a little evil himself. He had to put those thoughts aside. If what he did could save her life, then it was worth the effort. It wasn't much of a justification, but it would have to do.

“I'll be watching from here,” Isaac said. “Making sure no one enters. You should move now while the room is empty but for her.”

“What about the video cameras?”

“Do it right and it will appear as nothing more than two people having a conversation,” Isaac said. “Do it wrong, and it isn't like she'd be able to explain what you were trying to do anyway.”

They weren't exactly words of comfort, but Isaac was right. Museum security was keeping an eye out for potential theft of artwork, not magic. With a sigh, Austin clutched the book to his chest and made his move.

The room the witch sat in was large and open with several modern sculptures peppered throughout. Large windows carried enough light into the room to make it bright and warm. He was just another guy strolling through the museum. This would have been harder in the dimly lit Egyptian exhibit, where it was harder to see. Then again, that would be better to protect his identity if anything went wrong.

Austin moved past the twisted metal of some kind of display that looked like a deformed dinosaur skeleton. He'd never been into art and didn't get what was all that interesting about the metal twisted into weird shapes and geometric designs. It was nice and all, but he didn't understand what set it apart as special or how it deserved to be in a museum when he saw similar stuff at the mall. The witch was clearly engrossed by it though.

She'd conveniently chosen to set up her sketchpad in one of the less popular exhibits. Still, Austin knew he didn't have much time. All he needed was one tour group to turn a corner and there would be dozens of witnesses. Trying to explain what he was doing on a video recording would be a lot easier than to a room full of freaked-out people.

“Beautiful,” he said, glancing at her sketchpad.

“Excuse me?” The witch immediately tensed. Austin had to wonder if all witches had their guards up like that. Or maybe she thought he was trying to pick her up.

“Your sketch,” he quickly replied. “It really captures the . . . thing.”

“The
thing?
”

“Sculpture!” This was not going well. “I'm sorry. I'm not that into art. I'm only here for an assignment. I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at. But you seem to get it. That's nice work.”

The witch closed her sketchbook. “Look, I don't have the time for some guy who read in a book that museums are a good place to meet women. I've got an assignment of my own to finish. For a class that's a bitch to pass, not some cake class you thought you'd take to up your GPA.”

Nope. Not going well at all.

Austin laughed lightly, trying to play it off as he held up the Book of Light. “Seriously? You think this book tells me how to pick up women?”

She still looked skeptical. “The library is across the street. Big stone building. Lots of columns.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied. “This isn't a library book. It's something . . . well, something you might be interested in.”

“If you think you sound less skeevy, you're wrong.”

Austin sat at the other end of the bench, keeping a safe distance so he didn't scare her off. “No, no,” he said as he opened the book. Better to just get this over with. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep her there. “Nothing skeevy. It's just . . . words on a page.”

“What are you even talking about?” she asked, her guard still up. She reached into her pocket and Austin feared that she was about to pull out a can of mace.

Austin discreetly slipped a bottle out of his own jacket pocket. “I'm sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I should just save time and tell you the truth. My name is Austin. And I know you're a witch.”

“I don't—”

“You can deny it all you want, but we really don't have time,” he said. “I'm not here alone. There's this guy . . . and he knows about you too. Thing is, he wants to hurt you. Maybe even kill you.” He uncorked the bottle with his thumb. “I can stop him if you just let me. I can protect you. All you have to do is—”

“Security!”

Austin put the cap back on the bottle. “No! No! It's okay.”

He tried to put a calming hand on her arm. It was a mistake.

The girl slapped him away. The bottle flew from his fingers and slid across the floor.

“Security!” she yelled again.

“No. Seriously!” he said, getting up. “It's all okay.”

Austin wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes were focused on Isaac, who was moving into the room. His head was down, his hand reaching into his jacket.

Then Austin saw the kids behind Isaac. A tour group that must have been a class trip had just rounded the corner. It was worse than he'd feared. Over two dozen kids, a teacher, chaperones, and a tour guide were about to get in the mix. And Isaac's arm was coming out of his jacket, holding a gun.

“No!” Austin went for Isaac, pushing his hand away.

The gun went off as it was aimed at the floor.

The witch ran from the room as kids screamed and alarms blared.

Isaac grabbed Austin. “We need to move. Now.”

Austin followed Isaac, clutching the book. There wasn't time to retrieve the bottle of herbs, the bottle covered with his fingerprints. All he could think as he ran was that he was so screwed.