The War on Witches (2 page)

“Thanks for calling Halliwell's. How—
ow—
may I help you?” Paige got her second paper cut of the day as she flipped open the reservations book. No one had told her restaurant work could be so dangerous, and she hadn't even been anywhere near the knives. “Yes, we have an opening at eight tonight. Party of . . .
nineteen?
Actually, that, I'm not so sure. . . .”

Paige held the phone in the crook of her neck as she ran one finger down that night's reservations page in search of an opening while sucking on the bleeding finger of her other hand and attempting the mental calculation of whether or not they could fit in a table of nineteen at eight o'clock. Piper hadn't opened a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but it wasn't exactly enormous either. Halliwell's was already pretty popular before the
Chronicle
ran their glowing review. Now the phone was ringing off the hook even before they opened their doors for lunch. “We do look a little busy at eight, but how would you feel about the outside—”

“Paige, your presence is needed in the kitchen. Now.” Jackson, the petulant line cook, was suddenly beside Paige with his arms crossed and his ever-present scowl on his face.

Paige paused for a beat with her bleeding finger still in her mouth, blinked once, then turned her attention back to the phone. “Can you hold for one moment?” Paige didn't wait for an answer before putting the call on mute and losing all the politeness from her voice. “Can't you see I'm on the phone?”

Jackson let out a melodramatic sigh. “Chef refuses to double my shrimp order even though we ran out last night. I know I don't need to tell you that—”

“No, you don't,” Paige said, interrupting the line cook. She'd only been filling in at the restaurant for a week and had already had more than enough of him to last a lifetime. “As I was here last night and my ears are still ringing from your ranting.”

“But—”

“The chef is your boss,” Paige reminded him. “And when she's not around, you report to Piper. Nowhere along the way do I fit into this equation. I'm just here to answer the phones, which I can't do if you're bothering me.”

“This is what I get for working for women,” Jackson mumbled loudly enough that there was no doubt he'd wanted to be heard.

Paige briefly considered orbing him to the moon. It was not the first time she'd considered teleporting Piper's most annoying employee somewhere far away. The idea of breaking his body up into thousands of tiny balls of light and sending them out of her presence was tempting, but the thought of her sister returning to the restaurant to find a staff member missing always stopped her. To say nothing of the police investigation that would naturally follow.

She had to be extra cautious about these things, considering her husband was a parole officer and some of his best friends were the ones who would be forced to arrest her. Paige's regular job already put Henry in enough awkward situations with his law enforcement friends. She didn't need to add this temp work she was largely doing as a favor to the mix.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Paige said. “As I know you will. But didn't we only run out of shrimp at the end of the night? If I recall correctly, we only failed to fill one order of appetizers. Is that right?”

“It doesn't matter—”

“Yes, actually, it does,” Paige said. “The amount of product we run out of most certainly matters—as I suspect most male business owners would tell you as well. And considering last night we had several tables of people who were still in town for last weekend's shrimp festival it seems unlikely that we will have a run on the stuff tonight or ever again until this time next year. Either way, there is absolutely no need to
double
the order. Maybe you should politely take it up with your boss about requesting one additional batch or bushel or however you order shrimp.”

“Actually, they're ordered in—”

“Don't care.” Paige held up the receiver. “On the phone.”

As the line cook huffed off, Paige saw that Phoebe had come in behind him. Her less annoying sister—for the moment—was smiling as if she'd enjoyed the show.

Paige held up the finger that was no longer bleeding to indicate she would be a minute before picking up her own cell phone and bringing up the weather app. She returned to the call on the restaurant phone as she checked the forecast. “I'm so sorry about that. It does look like we can fit your party in tonight, but the only seating we have available is on the patio. Now, I'm looking at the weather report for tonight and it is looking beautiful. It should be nice and warm and the skies clear. Halliwell's has a lovely view of the bay.” Paige closed out the app and put down her cell phone as she listened to the happy future patron on the line. “Perfect! See you then.”

Paige let out a groan as she hung up and went to make a notation in the reservations book. “Wait. Was that a table for eighteen at nine or a table for nineteen at eight?”

“Having fun?” Phoebe asked.

Paige marked down the table for nineteen at eight and hoped for the best. “You can cross restaurateur off my potential career list.”

Phoebe took a seat at the bar. “I thought you were full up on Whitelighter duties and helping at Magic School.”

“And the two days a week at Social Services,” Paige said as she moved behind the bar. “But the one thing those all have in common is their inability to cover the bills when you're raising three kids. Parole officers only make so much. Add to that the renovations from when Tam accidentally torched the house with her new power. . . .”

“And the money Piper contributes while you cover for her probably helps.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm on the family-pay plan.” Paige opened a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses. “Which makes me feel worse since we're already mooching off them by living at the Manor while the house is being brought back up to code. And here we thought it was just a little smoke damage.”

“You'll be back home soon enough,” Phoebe replied, taking a sip of her wine. “And then it'll be Kat's turn to find a way to destroy something . . . with or without magic. I swear I don't know how Piper managed.”

“And she only started out by giving birth to the twice-blessed one,” Paige said. “Whatever that meant.”

“Yeah, well, raising little half Cupids ain't easy either,” Phoebe said. “P.J. had her first crush on a boy in daycare. We found out when she beamed him to the house for a playdate on Sunday. Coop had to rush him home before his parents realized he was gone and called the cops.”

“Starting a little young, isn't she?”

“Who can say? Coop's the first Cupid to marry a witch and have children. We're in uncharted territory here. I never expected that P.J.'s witch half would unite with her Cupid half, even without a ring to activate her power. I can't even imagine what will happen when Parker's power reveals itself, no matter how many times I try to force a premonition to give me a heads-up. At least one of us was smart enough to marry a normal guy with no magic.”

“That has its own challenges when your daughters are witches and Whitelighters. Witchlighters?” Paige said. “I'm still not sure it was the right decision to bind their magic. Especially if they're growing up with cousins that still have access to theirs.”

“Nothing saying you and Henry can't change your minds once the girls are old enough to understand consequences,” Phoebe said. “For now, think of it as giving Henry Jr. the chance to grow up without having to defend himself from magical pranks. It's not going to be easy on him, being the only kid in the family without magic.”

“Still less of a crapshoot than being in the foster system, I guess,” Paige said. “And I say that as someone who works with the foster system. Let's hope things stay calm for a while. I can't handle any magical mischief on top of all the jobs I'm covering. Speaking of jobs, shouldn't you be at work right now?”

“I'm like two weeks ahead on my column,” Phoebe said. “I stocked a bunch of articles since I was supposed to be on my book tour right now. Then it went and got postponed.”

“Maybe it's a blessing. Take some time off to spend with your family.”

“That's a good idea,” Phoebe said. “The girls would love an impromptu trip to Disneyland. We save a lot on airfare with a husband that can beam us there.”

Paige nodded slowly. The last thing she wanted to do was be a nag. At least one of the Halliwell sisters should be having fun with her family. But Phoebe's impromptu vacation would come with an obvious cost that Paige was somewhat surprised Phoebe hadn't already seen. “Yes, Disneyland could be fun,” Paige said. “
Or
you could pop over to the other side of the world and visit a certain sister who recently made a miraculous recovery from being dead.”

Phoebe finished off her glass of wine looking anywhere but at Paige.

Paige took the empty glass out of Phoebe's hand and placed it on the bar. “Piper's wine glasses here are big, but not big enough to hide behind. Also? Clear glass.”

Phoebe swirled her finger around the rim of the glass. “I don't want to take away from Piper's time with her. Growing up, it was always the two of them with me tagging along. I'd feel like a third wheel.”

“Yeah, well, Piper could stand to spend a couple hours at her restaurant,” Paige said. “I'm drowning in paperwork and personnel issues. Besides, I know that Prue would love it. She always asks about you when I pop in to get Piper's help with the latest crisis here or at home.”

“Yeah, but Piper was always closer to Prue—”

“And you were a complete stranger who had no relationship with her whatsoever?” Paige finished her own glass of wine as she eyed her sister. It was long past time for them to talk about the former demonic elephant not in the room. “You're making excuses. We both know it has nothing to do with Prue.”

Phoebe grabbed the bottle and poured herself a second glass. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You know
exactly
what I'm talking about.” Paige grabbed the bottle. It was way too early in the day for that kind of drinking. “Tall, dark, and undead.”

“You say that like he's a zombie.”

“Yeah, well, he's not exactly breathing,” Paige said. “Look, I know I'm the last person in the world to extol the virtues of Cole Turner, but he's back in our lives whether we want it or not. The Elders saw to it when they made him Prue's guy Friday. There has to be some method to their madness.”

“There isn't usually,” Phoebe said.

“I'll grant you that.” Paige gave in and poured herself a second glass as well. Aside from it being early in the day, she probably shouldn't be drinking on the job, but what was the point of having a fully stocked wine cellar if one was not going to use it? “But the powers that be wouldn't go to the trouble of setting you up with Coop—something they've never done before—only to tempt you with your ex a few years down the line.”

“Maybe that's exactly their plan,” Phoebe said. “Maybe it's a test. Maybe they want me to be tempted.”

“And maybe they just want to give Cole his shot at redemption, like they said,” Paige replied. “Cole was always at his best when he was with you. Well, at least he tried to be. And don't think it's not killing me to admit it. Pretty sure no one on this planet has been a harsher critic of the guy than me.”

“Okay, but—”

Paige's hand clenched her glass to the point of almost breaking as the sound of crashing pots and pans emerged from the kitchen. It sounded like half the metal contents of the shelves had come cascading down in there. Paige was afraid to find out the cause, but the screams that followed indicated that a person was more likely to blame than a loose screw. The loudest of those voices belonged to Jackson.

Paige looked back at her sister, grabbing her arm. “How about we pop in on them right now?”

Phoebe tried to pull away. “I thought you had a million things to do here?”

Paige held tight. “I'm taking a smoke break.”

“You don't smoke.”

“Fine, then an orb break.” Paige concentrated on her other sisters and felt her body begin to dematerialize. “I do orb.”

And she did.

Natalie Yeung stared at the circle as it whirred on the computer screen. Round and round it went. When it would stop, she had no clue. While she waited, she mindlessly played with the magnetized name tag stuck to her shirt, pulling it apart and letting the magnet snap it back together through the fabric.

The tag read “Nat,” which was the name she went by, but that combined with her short hair and lack of physical endowments had more than one customer calling her “sir.” She usually shrugged it off, since there were worse things in the world to be called. Wasn't like she was about to grow out her spiky, short hair and start wearing dresses, though picturing herself like that gave her a good laugh while she waited for the computer to do what it had to.

The laptop had a nasty bit of virus she wasn't sure she'd be able to get out. Her job was so much easier when all she had to do was download a simple antivirus program and let it run. Halfway through the first attempt she realized she was going to have to attack this one manually. It was a much more complicated process, but it also cost more so the owner would be happy. She liked Roger and did whatever she could to help him keep the place open. It wasn't easy, seeing how he wasn't exactly a businessman, even by the most generous definition of the word.

Example one: Marci, the Tech Bytes assistant manager. She was a complete tool and a total waste of space. If any one person would be responsible for the end of Tech Bytes, it would be Marci. The fact that she was supposed to be managing the store instead of off dealing with her girlfriend drama was just one example of her lack of professionalism. And leaving the store—and an employee—completely unsupervised was another pretty big example. Not that Nat needed the supervision. She knew what she was doing, even when the computers she worked on didn't.

The wheel stopped spinning. The virus was still there.

Nat smiled. She liked a challenge. Customers like this one that visited sketchy sites without bothering to protect their computers first were a joy as well as the bane of her existence. These people would keep Tech Bytes in business in spite of the bigger chain stores that also offered repairs. It helped that they were usually the same people too embarrassed to bring their computers in to the nice, shiny, big stores where employees could potentially judge them for what they found in their hard drives. The same dumpy little storefront vibe that held Tech Bytes back also helped attract a certain type of clientele. At least once a day Natalie got an eyeful of something she didn't want to see. A couple times she'd even had to call the cops.

The tinkle of a bell announced the arrival of a new customer, but the sound was drowned out by the music filtering through Nat's earbuds. She wasn't supposed to listen to her tunes out on the floor, but she also wasn't supposed to work on computers out there either. Her options were limited when Marci ditched, which happened with increasing regularity.

It didn't matter that Nat couldn't hear the door through the sounds of Tegan and Sara on her playlist. She could sense a new presence in the room. Maybe it was the shift in the air pressure when the door opened, or the shadow that fell on her as the stranger moved toward the counter. Or maybe it was the slight chill that she felt on her arms as he approached. That same chill had saved her from danger a few times before.

She pulled the earbuds from her ears and put a cautious smile on her face. “Welcome to Tech Bytes,” she said. “Where we take the bite out of your tech.”

The man stared at her silently.

She let out an awkward laugh. “Sorry. We're supposed to say that. I don't know what it means either.”

He continued to stare. It was getting uncomfortable. “Is that an ankh?” he asked.

“What?” She grabbed the neckline of her shirt. Her tattoo must be peeking out again. Usually when someone asked, she tugged it down a bit so they could get a better look. Something about this guy made her pull the fabric up. “Yeah. I know it's like the most obvious tat, but I like what it represents.”

“Do you believe in eternal life?” the man asked.

Nat closed the laptop she was working on and slid it to the side. She wasn't about to engage in a philosophical conversation with this guy. “Is there something I can help you with?”

His eyes flicked to her neck again before he placed his messenger bag on the counter. “I have something I want you to see.”

“Okay.” She kept the bright smile on her face, but braced herself for the unexpected. This guy was weird. That said,
weird
was par for the course working in tech customer service. Especially for a girl barely out of her teens. She'd dealt with plenty of weird before. She even liked weird at times, which anyone who'd met her last boyfriend would know. The chill she felt intensified, suggesting this wasn't going to be her normal brand of weird.

The customer pulled an archaic book out of the bag. Brown leather and worn, it had to be at least a hundred years old. Probably more. It looked like it carried all sorts of dust and mites and microscopic junk with it. Nat moved the laptop she'd been working on to the shelf beneath the counter. Last thing she wanted was to get any of that crap inside. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I think you've got us confused. The rare bookstore is down the street.” How he could have mixed a bookshop up with a store with computers lining the shelves and random wired and wireless accessories all around was beyond her comprehension.

He opened the cover of the book. “They wouldn't know what to do with a rare edition like this. They'd have no idea of its value.”

“Well, I certainly don't have a clue.” Nat looked out the window, wondering when the hell Marci would be back. Hopefully she and her girlfriend were breaking up and this would be the last time Nat was stuck in the store alone.
Ever.

“Oh, I doubt that.” His fingers traced the odd symbols drawn on the page in red ink. Her shiver intensified. “I suspect you have a lot of experience with books like these.”

She glanced down at the pages as he flipped through them. Fear gripped her as she realized what he was suggesting. The strange man was wrong though: she didn't have any experience with books like that at all. But she had seen enough of them to know what it was . . . and she knew enough to want this guy gone.

“Look, sir, I've got computers to work on.” She moved down the counter so she was closer to the door to the backroom. It was closed and she had to punch a code in to get through, but she could probably make it in the time it took him to get around the counter.
If
he tried to get around the counter. Maybe he was just there to talk and had a strange way of meeting people. She could have been blowing it all out of proportion. No one had ever guessed her secret before. This was uncharted territory.

The man was older than her, middle aged with hair graying at the temples. He was in pretty good shape. Nat had taken some self-defense classes but she didn't think she could take him. Her cell phone was charging on the other side of the store, too far out of her reach. She should have just unplugged something from one of the outlets at the desk and put it there earlier, but she'd been trying to be a good employee. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Nat took a step back as the man went through his bag again. “I can see why you might be confused,” he said. “It certainly does look like a Book of Shadows. That's what you witches call them, right? Your little instruction manuals for evil?”

Nat laughed it off, but even she wasn't convinced by the sound. “Witches? I really don't know what you're talking about. We're nowhere near Halloween or April Fool's. Seriously, dude, I gotta ask you to go.”

He ignored her as he continued digging through his bag. “Eye of newt, wing of bat,” he said. “Blood of an Innocent. Isn't that right?”

Nat froze. Years of work in customer service taught her that there comes a time in every interaction when one realizes they're dealing with a higher level of crazy. Her eyes went to her cell phone again as she silently cursed Roger for getting rid of the store's landline. Of course Marci had taken the store cell phone with her in case their boss called. She was
so
going to get that woman fired over this.

Playing dumb wasn't working. It was time for a new tactic. “I don't mess with that stuff,” Nat said. “It's dangerous. I don't want anything to do with it.”

The man smiled like he'd won something more than just a confirmation of his suspicions. “Not now, maybe. But you will one day. All witches do.”

Nat wasn't about to get into a debate over the role of witches in society. The guy looked enough like a professor that she suspected his argument would probably make sense. Tall and skinny in his bland tweed jacket, the guy seemed fairly harmless by outward appearance. It was the intensity of his gaze that told her he wasn't going to be easily convinced that witches were a force for good, not evil.

“What's that?” she asked, panic creeping into her voice.

The man had pulled a small glass vial from his bag. The contents of the vial were green and sparkled when they caught the light. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “Just a few herbs. Goes along with this spell.” He pointed to a page in the book, but Nat refused to take her eyes off him to look.

She took another step back. Nat didn't know a lot about herbs, but she couldn't think of any that naturally sparkled in the light. Her fingers reached behind her for the electronic lock, fumbling to find the punch pad so she could enter the code. “Spell? So . . . you're a witch?”

“No,” he said. “Not a witch. Not a warlock. I'm just a man. And this isn't one of your Books of Shadows. It's something completely different. We call it a Book of Light.” He took the stopper off the vial.

“
We?
” Nat's hand felt the pad as her eyes searched for accomplices. She saw a shadow outside the window, but couldn't make out a person. He was probably alone. The
we
was just for show.

Her fingers ran over the keys on the pad. The code was simple enough, but she'd never punched it in while the pad was behind her back and her hands were shaking frantically.

“Interesting.” Nat struggled to keep him talking. “But what makes
your
spells good and witches' spells evil? Isn't it more about the person using them?”

The man poured some of the sparkling herbs into his hand as Nat hit the first number. “This is natural magic,” he replied. “Unlike witches' unnatural magic.”

Nat punched in the second number of the code while she tried to figure out a way to talk the guy out of doing whatever it was he was going to do. There was nothing more natural than the magic witches used. Nature was at the heart of every spell. Somehow, she didn't think this line of reasoning would work on him. “By using natural sparkling herbs?” she asked.

“Don't worry,” he said. “This won't hurt. And if you're being honest about not using your dark magic, then in the end it may give you exactly what you want.”

Nat pressed the final number in the code and the door buzzed behind her. Her eyes went wide when she realized she'd entered it wrong. She'd missed a number or maybe hit them all wrong. The door wasn't opening.

The strange man smiled as the sound confirmed that she was trapped. He raised his open hand to his mouth.

With barely a thought, Nat leaned forward and blew the herbs into the man's face. He yelped in shock as the sparkling mixture went into his eyes.

Nat followed the herbs with his messenger bag, hitting him square in the face, spilling its contents all over the floor. She dove to the right, running out from behind the counter. If she could make it to the street she could scream for help until someone came. The store was at the slower end of the shopping district but there was usually a good amount of foot traffic. She just had to get to the door. Four bounding steps would get her to freedom.

A hand grabbed her shirt, yanking her back. The guy was deceptively strong. Nat lost her footing and went to the ground. The air was knocked from her as she landed on her back on the floor.

Nat swung her fists as the man straddled her. She wasn't going down easily. Her mind told her to keep moving. Fight back. Her fist connected with his head, sending him stumbling to the side. She pushed him off her, giving him a kick as she got to her feet.

Her attacker rolled back, between her and the door. She was on the wrong side of the counter, backed up to the wall. If she were a little taller, maybe she could hop the counter and make another play for the back room, but the odds were against her five-foot-two frame. The attacker was getting up. She needed a weapon.

Lightweight tablets weren't going to do the damage. She'd slam a computer into his head if those weren't on the other side of the store. The tiny screwdriver she'd used to open the laptop would only be useful if he got her in his arms. She picked it up anyway, but hoped he wouldn't get close enough for her to use it. She needed something bigger.

The book!

Nat grabbed the old tome off the counter. The heavy, leather-bound book would do much more damage than a tablet.

“I hit the alarm,” she lied, holding the book above her head, preparing to throw it. “The cops are on the way.”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” the man said. He also seemed to be taking in the situation. The half-empty bottle of mystery sparkling herbs was still in his hand. He'd closed it before the fight, but it was open again. “I'm here to help. To lead you back to the light.”

“Thanks, but I like my dark little corner of the world right here.” Nat flung the book at him, hoping it would knock him down or out or something, but he snagged it out of the air one handed.

“Thank you.” He flipped the book open and began to read a language she did not recognize.

A glow emanated from the book and directed itself toward Nat. Either the light or her own fear kept her locked in place. Beyond the light, she thought she saw that shadow outside the window again.
Was
it an accomplice? Or maybe just some innocent bystander waiting for the bus? She cried out for help but the shadow didn't move. Maybe it was just a shadow.