Chapter 15
“Kane was right.” Piper intoned. “ He didn’t tell us where Prue was and now we’ll never know. We won’t find her.”
“You’re so defeatist at times Piper.” Phoebe glared at her. “All our clues and instincts led us to this place and there’re a lot more rooms and spaces we haven’t explored here yet!”
They rushed out of the room and frantically searched the rest of the immense house for signs of life.
“There’s one place we haven’t looked.” Perdita pointed to the creaky floor. “Under the house. There are miles and miles of sewers under London. Victorian sewers. What do you bet we get lucky and find what we’re looking for there.”
Piper wasn’t amused.
“Oh great that’s all I need to do now. Explore sewers. What a grand vacation this has turned out to be. Never again am I going to convince you guys to take me anywhere!”
“This is no time to be selfish.” Phoebe reminded her. Piper snickered.
They pried open the drain cover with a metal rod Piper had found and braced themselves for the long trek down the stairs. Not to mention for the smell, placing their hands over their noses so as not to breathe the putrid stench.
Trudging through miles of sludge and dirty water, neither of them equipped for the hike, they reached a dead end. Turning around to head back, Phoebe noticed one of the bricks was smooth. Shining her torch towards it, she glimpsed a grayish marble stone in the wall. That was a strange place to put a valuable feature. Amongst all the drab bricks. Perhaps it was s secret passage or a sign guarding an entrance.
“Let’s try and move it or push it or something to see if it budges.”
Phoebe placed her entire hand over the middle of the stone and miraculously it gave way with a rumbling, part of the wall slid backwards to reveal a cast iron gate, with a second marble stone next to it much bigger and heavier than the first one. Beyond the gate hidden amongst the clinging stalactites of mildew, were stairs shining from the damp reflection of the dripping water.
They dashed towards the stone and utilizing all their strength the three loosened the rusty lock. It gave way with a clanging sending Piper reeling backwards, hitting her head against the other damp, rocky boulders.
“Ouch,” she yelled in pain and anger and hobbled back towards the side wall helping herself up by pulling on the jutting bricks.
“Are you okay?” Perdita questioned.
“Yeah, I’m fine. The things I do for my sister. She’d better be grateful!” She snapped back as she pulled the polka cotton scarf from around her neck and placed it over the moist cut she could feel on her head. Tapping her forehead gently up and down she moved the scarf away and shone her torch at the stains of blood on the white encircled pattern.
“I hope this doesn’t leave a scar. I’ll probably need a tetanus jab or something!” She said to herself anxiously.
But the other two didn’t hear her. At this moment they were preoccupied with other more pressing matters. Especially Perdita. Upon opening the cast iron door Phoebe had gone on to find Prue in inanimate form nearby. Still and listless.
“ You were right. She is in two places, she’s astrally projected herself to another place.” Phoebe explained. “One of us should stay here, Piper, since you’re hurt you can wait here for Prue to return. We’ll go and check out the rest of this place.”
Piper agreed. Although the cut wasn’t too deeply gauged she thought it may slow them down and besides someone had to stay for Prue and let her in on what was happening.
“OK, and if Prue gets back anytime soon, we can come find you guys and maybe she can give us a helping hand. A better idea of where Sabroh is or even how to rid him of this world. For good.”
Through her thoughts, Perdita sensed another life force ebbing inch by inch through her body and mind. In the entangled embers of the moon, radiating in a palatial spire, forming a wired mesh shadow on the tough ground, she heard a voice in the foggy air surrounding her. She felt the full force of the chanting.
The voice was that of a woman. Soft and deep and slurred, and there was in it the lazy caress of warm wind, warm water, warm sleep.
It was the Sorceress, Minah. Her soul was humming and filling Perdita’s mind with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. It was as if a soothing lullaby was caressing her own soul.
In an instant Perdita knew what she must accomplish to defeat Sabroh. Yet in the end, with a strange fatalism, which guided all her actions, she bent her step in the direction of the graceful sound.
No mortal’s power could kill him or ensnare him but Perdita’s amulet and the bejewelled prism-like object that Minah placed on her head was the key to his defeat.
“Perdita,” Phoebe called out. “Perdita.” She nudged her but Perdita didn’t respond. She was in a polished, soaring trance induced by the soothing, lithe voice she could hear through the desolate howling.
“Oh great. You’ve zonked out on me now too!” Phoebe sighed. “Are you doing another Prue?”
A vision of loveliness appeared to them in that dingy cavern. Minah. A misty haze embodied her magnificently beautiful, yet wounded face. Her eyes sparkled silver and sapphire-esque in the moonlight.
“Sabroh may have killed me and taken my wondering soul. That was only my earthly vessel. He has not taken my eternal soul. That which lives on in me. That will always remain with me until it is mine to pass onto my ancestors. Those who will inherit my mystical powers and facets between light and dark shadows.” Minah’s voice was kind and earthly. Not other worldly as Phoebe imagined it would be.
Phoebe was amazed at what she heard. Who was this beguiling vision? But with all her questions, Phoebe was impressed by the truth of her words. Piper and Prue didn’t know what they were missing. She attempted to speak to Minah but her words were driven back by her enchanting voice.
“Perdita is one such living soul. She has the wings of angels. Strong emotions. A courageous heart. Through her powers. The jewel, and the amulet around her neck you can defeat Sabroh. Protect her Phoebe for she is a part of you.”
She put her slender hand to Perdita’s forehead and placed a golden, pear-shaped jewel onto her head above her brow. This will protect you and be his downfall.
Minah then disappeared as magically as she had appeared.
Perdita’s amulet. The cobalt blue eye surrounded by a sea of turquoise and cyan, attached to a filigree, rose gold chain, encapsulated many powers. It was a family heirloom handed down to the daughter of each generation.
Perdita had been right all along. It did bring the wearer luck and it did ward off the evil eye as it was supposed to. Not only of humans and mere mortals but also from demons and other malediction of forces.
That was why Kane had no power over her and over her thoughts. It warded off his virulent, lupine senses. Just as it had protected her from le loup garou many years ago in Paris. Had Kane been stalking her even then all those years ago? And with the amulet she always wore around her neck, he must have felt some sort of good force holding her from him. Driving him back as a cross to a vampire.
Perdita awoke with a jaunt and called out with an insatiable glee. Phoebe stood in her tracks.
“Couldn’t you just say Eureka or by Jove or something as you English do. What happened to you? For a minute there I thought you’d abandoned us like Prue.”
“Quickly I know what to do. Let’s find him.” Perdita was certain.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do, but let’s do it already. I may start to lose my cool composure!” Phoebe said in jest, and feeling very nervous at the same time.
Perdita’s enthusiasm and excitement rubbed onto Phoebe and she was anxious to get the whole sorry chapter over and done with.
“We all know you can’t change the past or alter events already taken place. History can’t be changed. But it can be repeated. You know the saying, ‘history always repeats itself’. That’s how we’ll have to defeat Sabroh. At least how I’ll have to win over him.” Explained Perdita.
“I think it’s a bit dangerous. You can’t take him on by yourself.”
“I have to Phoebe, it’s my destiny. Don’t worry I’ll be fine and besides I’ll have you for moral support and remember we have a lot to talk about. Being distantly related.
Minah rid him from the world once and that’s why he was out to exact his revenge on her. She was betrayed by the very people she was trying to help. To save themselves, they promised Sabroh they’d hand her over.”
Perditd was so sure about what she must do, so certain in her actions. But there was a fatalistic flaw in her voice. She knew it wouldn’t be easy and it was perilous but this was her calling, she realized it now.
“I’ve got to do as she did. Exactly the same. The prism, the charm, is the only piece of natural element found in the earth that has enough energy to hold him between its many crystalline facets. The structure is unique. It creates a force field within it; powerful enough to hold any living matter. Even fiery djinns.”
There was something Phoebe could do to help. She would have to be the bait. Something Perdita thought was more life threatening than her part. Anything could go wrong. Anything, and perhaps everything.
Monday 3 August 2015
Sunday 2 August 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Twilight was falling as they traversed the flagstones of Craven Street. The house was situated in one of the shadier districts. Although the city was alive and bustling for the time of night. Vagrants and people of the night inhabited this area.
The trio turned and looked around at the dirty, grimy, brown-rust buildings. With broken glass windows and bits of paper hanging from the gutters. Damp, smelly and spongy. Everything was dingy and the place didn’t look quite prepossessing at all. None of them could contemplate how the place would appear during the daylight hours. Piper was doubtful. But with baited breath and a long sigh, she climbed the shabby steps after the others.
“Prue.” Piper called out in soft, dulcet tones. Her voice echoed around the hollow fixtures of the rooms.
“Ssh!” Phoebe whispered. “We don’t want to give ourselves away.”
Perdita suggested they spread out and search the house. It would be quicker than creeping about the place together.
They each went their separate ways but Piper wasn’t pleased with having to snoop around the house on her own. Not with cobwebs and dusty floor coverings; and especially weary of meeting some towering beastly demon.
Kane came silently, slithing from behind Phoebe and grabbed her by the shoulder. Tagging savagely at her hair.
”At last you’ve come. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure out the pieces of the jigsaw. You being the intelligent of the Charmed Ones, I figured it wouldn’t be too vast a time span.”
“Ow!” Phoebe yelped with shock.
Arms of steel and iron were locked aimlessly around her waist. A superior demigod lifted her from her feet. A vast, solid crane.
Phoebe wasn’t one to be beaten. She fought back. Struggled. Kicking out using her kick boxing skills. Panting. Gasping. Heaving her sweaty, limber body up and down; she lashed out in desperation. Kane fell back for a second losing his footing. He hadn’t expected her to be so strong or so worthy an adversary. But amazingly he leaped back up again and grabbed her arm.
“Where’s my sister?” Phoebe demanded between shallow breaths.
“Now that would be too easy. Where’s your sense of adventure? The fun’s in the challenge. Of deducting answers for yourself don’t you think?” Even in their fight, Kane was still a most charming opponent. An ardent advocate. But this wasn’t a courtroom. It was life and death. Phoebe’s life and his death.
The saturated words just seemed to roll off his mellow tongue. Still the smooth-talker. Without even looking at him, Phoebe could understand why Prue could have fallen for his deadly, snake-like charms.
“You’re evil. No one can be free from the grasp of evil unless his or her own will is strong. Or until they knew they’re actually dealing with true, unadulterated evil. Then they must fight, just as we do and Perdita too in her own way.”
“Don’t talk to me about Perdita. For months now I have attempted to win her over with my wild, sexy charms and sweet talk. But she never came round.”
“She has sense that’s why.” Kane pulled his clammy hands tighter about her neck.
“No it’s something else, something more powerful within her and around her.” Kane seemed uneasy.
She pirouetted. Parried. Pinning back her arms. Dropping her weight to the lowest point of her body. Pressing against him as though slow dancing, she punched her elbow back into his stomach. It felt like lead weight.
Phoebe’s head dripped with perspiration. Dispatching him would be hard. Her face ran with large spots of sweat and her hair untangled itself in her mouth and around her cheeks. She could only imagine where Piper and Perdita were. If only they were here. Why couldn’t Perdita read Phoebe’s thoughts now?
Kane was huge. Massive, strong and heavy. A real demon, unlike any she had encountered before. What could she, a small girl, compared to him, do? This meeting brought back a brief recollection of battling their arch rivals and foes. Her memories of helplessness in the past opened up again. But her sisters always helped save the day. She was alone now in this violent, aggressive death match.
Feeling a gnawing, sharp pain in her chest. Enraged. She bellowed out. Jumping to her feet, feeling like Buffy The Vampire Slayer; she hooked her leg around his knee. Jerking counter clock wise she pounced and threw him backward with all the strength in her tiny-framed body.
Kane spun. Fell back and she kicked him again with the power of a steam train. This time he somersaulted back against the wall and seemed to pass out.
“Obviously he’s never read Shelley.” Phoebe unceremoniously remarked. Throwing her hair back with her hand. “Although Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein would be a suitable adage here and ironic. I mean Percy Bysshe Shelley when he wrote: ’All spirits are enslaved which serve things evil’. So we’ll just have to free you and send you back from whence you drifted!”
Everyone loved Phoebe’s dry wit and it certainly was needed at this point in the proceedings. As it proved most refreshing.
She heard a noise beyond the door. Hope it’s not another one she told herself, as she crept behind the jarred door. Piper and Perdita arrived at the same time. Phoebe’s arms ached from where she’d grabbed his body. Her face glowed. Bright scarlet.
“About time you guys got here.” Phoebe gasped breathlessly.
“I sensed you were calling out to me,” Perdita explained but I got stuck in the basement. The door handle fell off.”
“We need all three of us to vanquish him. Without Prue here I hope using Perdita in her place will work. Quickly the spell Piper! Piper you could have frozen him if you were here. Then I wouldn’t have needed to fight him like an old boxer out of retirement. He really took my breath away; and I don’t mean in the romantic sense of the word either!”
“It wasn’t my idea to split up!” Piper snapped back as she searched her backpack for the scrap of paper.
“But you’re OK aren’t you?” Perdita fretted.
Kane jumped up and pounced at Perdita.
“Quick Piper freeze him!” Phoebe commanded.
Piper threw up her hands in a waving motion and directed them at Kane who immediately stood frozen in his tracks allowing Perdita to escape his gloomy clutch.
“Now the spell.” They all joined hands and repeated the spell they’d found in Perdita’s book.
To remove the power of a fearsome slave
Encircle hands; join together on a glistening plane
Count to three; let the chaos begin
Wither thee hence dark knave.
Shafts of moonlight fell onto Kane’s body where he had frozen solid. Piper reached into her pocket for the elderflower water and poultice whipped up earlier by Phoebe. Each of them hoped the spell would work with Perdita in place of Prue. Piper crossed her fingers. They said the spell over and over three times.
As they were vanquishing. Kane unfroze. He felt the clammy fingers of fear probing his chest. A sound that tightened the muscles of his stomach and sent shivers down his bony spine, as Kane knew the end was nigh for him.
“Evil does as evil says. Kane must have found his darkside and succumbed to it. Revelled in it. That’s why he was able to do what he did. What he did best. Steal bodies. Be a total creep.” Phoebe was remorseless.
“Now you’ll never find Prue,” he sniggered as the last remnants of his hollow voice echoed about the room rebounding off the walls. He vanished in a puff of sulphur and silvery flame.
The spell worked. Phoebe was now certain that Perdita was a part of them; part of their family and she knew Perdita was right they must be long-lost, distant cousins. Several generations removed of course.
“Good riddance to bad garbage.” Perdita mused. She wondered how his strange, untimely disappearance would affect chambers. They were in the middle of an important criminal trial with Kane as head honcho.
“Maybe now, after being in his shadow, I’ll get the recognition I deserve!” she grinned.
But little did she know that the forthcoming events of the night were going to change her life forever.
Twilight was falling as they traversed the flagstones of Craven Street. The house was situated in one of the shadier districts. Although the city was alive and bustling for the time of night. Vagrants and people of the night inhabited this area.
The trio turned and looked around at the dirty, grimy, brown-rust buildings. With broken glass windows and bits of paper hanging from the gutters. Damp, smelly and spongy. Everything was dingy and the place didn’t look quite prepossessing at all. None of them could contemplate how the place would appear during the daylight hours. Piper was doubtful. But with baited breath and a long sigh, she climbed the shabby steps after the others.
“Prue.” Piper called out in soft, dulcet tones. Her voice echoed around the hollow fixtures of the rooms.
“Ssh!” Phoebe whispered. “We don’t want to give ourselves away.”
Perdita suggested they spread out and search the house. It would be quicker than creeping about the place together.
They each went their separate ways but Piper wasn’t pleased with having to snoop around the house on her own. Not with cobwebs and dusty floor coverings; and especially weary of meeting some towering beastly demon.
Kane came silently, slithing from behind Phoebe and grabbed her by the shoulder. Tagging savagely at her hair.
”At last you’ve come. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure out the pieces of the jigsaw. You being the intelligent of the Charmed Ones, I figured it wouldn’t be too vast a time span.”
“Ow!” Phoebe yelped with shock.
Arms of steel and iron were locked aimlessly around her waist. A superior demigod lifted her from her feet. A vast, solid crane.
Phoebe wasn’t one to be beaten. She fought back. Struggled. Kicking out using her kick boxing skills. Panting. Gasping. Heaving her sweaty, limber body up and down; she lashed out in desperation. Kane fell back for a second losing his footing. He hadn’t expected her to be so strong or so worthy an adversary. But amazingly he leaped back up again and grabbed her arm.
“Where’s my sister?” Phoebe demanded between shallow breaths.
“Now that would be too easy. Where’s your sense of adventure? The fun’s in the challenge. Of deducting answers for yourself don’t you think?” Even in their fight, Kane was still a most charming opponent. An ardent advocate. But this wasn’t a courtroom. It was life and death. Phoebe’s life and his death.
The saturated words just seemed to roll off his mellow tongue. Still the smooth-talker. Without even looking at him, Phoebe could understand why Prue could have fallen for his deadly, snake-like charms.
“You’re evil. No one can be free from the grasp of evil unless his or her own will is strong. Or until they knew they’re actually dealing with true, unadulterated evil. Then they must fight, just as we do and Perdita too in her own way.”
“Don’t talk to me about Perdita. For months now I have attempted to win her over with my wild, sexy charms and sweet talk. But she never came round.”
“She has sense that’s why.” Kane pulled his clammy hands tighter about her neck.
“No it’s something else, something more powerful within her and around her.” Kane seemed uneasy.
She pirouetted. Parried. Pinning back her arms. Dropping her weight to the lowest point of her body. Pressing against him as though slow dancing, she punched her elbow back into his stomach. It felt like lead weight.
Phoebe’s head dripped with perspiration. Dispatching him would be hard. Her face ran with large spots of sweat and her hair untangled itself in her mouth and around her cheeks. She could only imagine where Piper and Perdita were. If only they were here. Why couldn’t Perdita read Phoebe’s thoughts now?
Kane was huge. Massive, strong and heavy. A real demon, unlike any she had encountered before. What could she, a small girl, compared to him, do? This meeting brought back a brief recollection of battling their arch rivals and foes. Her memories of helplessness in the past opened up again. But her sisters always helped save the day. She was alone now in this violent, aggressive death match.
Feeling a gnawing, sharp pain in her chest. Enraged. She bellowed out. Jumping to her feet, feeling like Buffy The Vampire Slayer; she hooked her leg around his knee. Jerking counter clock wise she pounced and threw him backward with all the strength in her tiny-framed body.
Kane spun. Fell back and she kicked him again with the power of a steam train. This time he somersaulted back against the wall and seemed to pass out.
“Obviously he’s never read Shelley.” Phoebe unceremoniously remarked. Throwing her hair back with her hand. “Although Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein would be a suitable adage here and ironic. I mean Percy Bysshe Shelley when he wrote: ’All spirits are enslaved which serve things evil’. So we’ll just have to free you and send you back from whence you drifted!”
Everyone loved Phoebe’s dry wit and it certainly was needed at this point in the proceedings. As it proved most refreshing.
She heard a noise beyond the door. Hope it’s not another one she told herself, as she crept behind the jarred door. Piper and Perdita arrived at the same time. Phoebe’s arms ached from where she’d grabbed his body. Her face glowed. Bright scarlet.
“About time you guys got here.” Phoebe gasped breathlessly.
“I sensed you were calling out to me,” Perdita explained but I got stuck in the basement. The door handle fell off.”
“We need all three of us to vanquish him. Without Prue here I hope using Perdita in her place will work. Quickly the spell Piper! Piper you could have frozen him if you were here. Then I wouldn’t have needed to fight him like an old boxer out of retirement. He really took my breath away; and I don’t mean in the romantic sense of the word either!”
“It wasn’t my idea to split up!” Piper snapped back as she searched her backpack for the scrap of paper.
“But you’re OK aren’t you?” Perdita fretted.
Kane jumped up and pounced at Perdita.
“Quick Piper freeze him!” Phoebe commanded.
Piper threw up her hands in a waving motion and directed them at Kane who immediately stood frozen in his tracks allowing Perdita to escape his gloomy clutch.
“Now the spell.” They all joined hands and repeated the spell they’d found in Perdita’s book.
To remove the power of a fearsome slave
Encircle hands; join together on a glistening plane
Count to three; let the chaos begin
Wither thee hence dark knave.
Shafts of moonlight fell onto Kane’s body where he had frozen solid. Piper reached into her pocket for the elderflower water and poultice whipped up earlier by Phoebe. Each of them hoped the spell would work with Perdita in place of Prue. Piper crossed her fingers. They said the spell over and over three times.
As they were vanquishing. Kane unfroze. He felt the clammy fingers of fear probing his chest. A sound that tightened the muscles of his stomach and sent shivers down his bony spine, as Kane knew the end was nigh for him.
“Evil does as evil says. Kane must have found his darkside and succumbed to it. Revelled in it. That’s why he was able to do what he did. What he did best. Steal bodies. Be a total creep.” Phoebe was remorseless.
“Now you’ll never find Prue,” he sniggered as the last remnants of his hollow voice echoed about the room rebounding off the walls. He vanished in a puff of sulphur and silvery flame.
The spell worked. Phoebe was now certain that Perdita was a part of them; part of their family and she knew Perdita was right they must be long-lost, distant cousins. Several generations removed of course.
“Good riddance to bad garbage.” Perdita mused. She wondered how his strange, untimely disappearance would affect chambers. They were in the middle of an important criminal trial with Kane as head honcho.
“Maybe now, after being in his shadow, I’ll get the recognition I deserve!” she grinned.
But little did she know that the forthcoming events of the night were going to change her life forever.
Saturday 1 August 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 13
Chapter 13
By dawn’s early light Prue was fading fast.
Perdita had felt Prue’s agony and pain when she had been captured and put into the hourglass by Sabroh. She knew, with the aid of her telepathic powers, that Prue was out of her body and was in two separate, spiritual planes.
Perdita could sense her image was flickering in and out, whilst the other sisters wondered what could be done. Phoebe recalled there was nothing in the Book of Shadows which provided an explanation for this sort of behaviour. It was just as Prue had thought to herself, now they didn’t know how long Prue could contain herself in astral projection without there being serious repercussions.
However Phoebe knew Sabroh was going to pay big time for this. Deep within her heart she hoped her vision of Prue didn’t mean this. They had been estranged for so long with Prue thinking Phoebe was hopeless. After Phoebe returned to San Francisco they had grown much closer, as sisters should be. The most dreaded thoughts entered her mind again. Then horror filled her heart once more, Aghast she screamed at herself over and over again.
“This does not signal Prue’s demise!!”
She shuddered as a chill entered her bones. She couldn’t lose her big sister now, after finding her again after all this time. In the midst of agony she despaired. Scolding herself.
Perhaps she should have told Piper and Prue of her vision of foreboding. Maybe then she could have prevented Prue from leaving her side and going out on her own. But realizing her own stupidity or irresponsibility wouldn’t really have altered her vision.
In the past she could have prevented and did prevent innocents from meeting their destinies and changing their lives, saving them even. But now. Could she have stopped Prue? She was in two minds. Since when did big sister not speak her mind and act out her own will. Feeling guilty at an inopportune moment wouldn’t help Prue now. She had to think of some alternative action before it was too late.
Piper was horrified and shocked at Phoebe’s confession.
“If you had seen our sister’s impending future doom why didn’t you tell us, her?”
“Because I wasn’t sure of what I saw and anyway it was just a brief flash. I didn't know what it meant at the time!”
Besides wasn’t there something about not using their powers for personal gain? How would that be interpreted in this scenario anyway?
Repentant, hating herself at this minute, Phoebe said,
“All I saw was Prue surrounded by flashing blues and greens, lights and reflections, like a glitterball. She looked like she was in some sort of glassy, aqueous liquid. Like a turquoise sea.”
“Fishtank! You mean.” Piper said tersely. “Oh great! Now there are two of her and we don’t know where either one is or whether she can get back into her own body or not? Especially if she’s trapped in some glass structure and can’t get out.”
“Which means we have to get to this Sabroh demon or dijinn or whatever he is and vanquish him. Sabroh steals lost or wandering souls, so Prue being in her astral state would have been wandering. It would give him ample opportunity to capture her.” Replied Phoebe. A look of anger, then worry passed over her face.
“But what does he do with the body?” Enquired Piper.
“They’re enslaved. Without a soul their body just becomes a hollow shell pandering to his every demand.” Phoebe answered.
They had to find some sort of spell to vanquish Sabroh. Only unbeknown to them Sabroh couldn’t be vanquished in the normal sense of the word.
This was easier said than done considering the Book of Shadows was at home. They couldn’t have bought it with them. It would have been funny trying to explain it to British Customs, or they’d probably have to smuggle it through. That would have been a task in itself but not really that difficult to pull off. Piper could have frozen time and everyone surrounding them. Then Prue could have wafted it through the green “Nothing to declare” zone.
“Phoeb can you think of some sort of tracking spell to locate Prue?” Piper asked.
“You think I haven’t tried that already! My mind’s come up with so many alternatives. Nothing works. Something must be interfering. A mystical force field or untapped energy. Either that or our conventional spells don’t seem to be working on this continent.
“You don’t need a spell.” Perdita cut in. “I know where they may be – but we’ve got a lot of territory to cover, especially since we have to do a lot of legwork.”
“We haven’t got the Book of Shadows with us which is a darn shame.” Phoebe protested.
“Perhaps you don’t need it. I have something you could use, but it’s not very big. It doesn’t contain many spells or anything. Just bits and pieces handed down to me over the years and other stuff I’ve come across myself. Spells I’ve made up on my own.” Pointed out Perdita.
“You know I haven’t had to fight demons, or help reunite lost people or vanquish either; because I don’t really have the Power of Three do I?” Grinned Perdita. “Here it is.”
Perdita pulled out a little black book the size of a notebook with gilt and silver edges. Laydees Spelles and Other Portente Potions, was written on the cover.
“Gosh you English really tend to do everything civilized don’t you?” Remarked Piper. “Look at the funny spelling.”
“It’s written in Medieval English – most of it dated back to the time of the Crusades and there’s some more modern stuff too.”
Phoebe flicked through the yellow stained pages.
“Here’s something – a piece on vanquishing the body of one who is brought back to walk the earth.” Phoebe mumbled to herself.
“Hmm, sounds a bit suspect to me.” Phoebe was puzzled. Piper snatched the book from Phoebe’s hand.
“I don’t know what that means?” Piper quipped.
Phoebe snatched it back.
“Do you mind Piper.”
Perdita continued with her explanation of Sabroh’s intentions.
“He’s planning to win mankind, take their souls and turn them to the dark side because of the Knights Templars.”
Knights Templars were the secret hood of knights that gave pilgrims returning to and from Jerusalem, safe passage. Hence the Middle Temple, and Inner Temple Inns of Court in legal London.
Perdita was a part of that tradition too, in a way. Being a barrister she had to join an Inn of Court. A sort of a society which helped students and qualified barristers alike and gave them support during their student year and after qualifying; and facilities to use, such as libraries. Where Perdita did most of her research. She’d wile away the hours until day and would sometimes be found by her friends sprawled out over her books. They put it down to simple dedication.
“So I suppose he blames me too somehow.” Perdita added.
“Here’s a spell containing a poultice of wheaten breadcrumbs and egg white for removing ‘worms of the face’. This would work wonders for your circles Piper!”
“Very funny. Can you quit with the jokes Phoebe and find something fast. What are worms of the face anyway?” Piper naively questioned.
“Blackheads, in those times.”
“Ugh! Phoebe that’s disgusting.” Piper replied with a sullen look.
“This definitely dates from medieval times. Look at the ingredients in some of these: boiled lizards and distilled young ravens. Yuck! This isn’t so much a book of spells, as it is of cosmetic improvements. Improve you looks without resorting to facelifts and nips and tucks. Here's something. Join hands in a circle and chant the following:
"Once, twice, thrice..which probably means we’ll have to repeat it three times. But it’s got be done in the wane of the moon and we’ll need distilled water of elderberry leaves to throw around him.”
“I don’t know what that will achieve?” Piper looked even more confused.
Now all they had to do was find Prue’s body and their foes and put an end to this whole fiasco. Neither of them knew where to start looking as Piper and Phoebe’s trip to Madame Tussaud’s had proved unfruitful. Although they did chance upon a wax figure that exhibited an uncanny resemblance to Kane.
However Phoebe had been on the right track with her theory of body snatchers.
After putting their heads together, pondering and deliberating over the clues they had in their possession, like Sabroh needing bodies to carry out his deeds, the place where Perdita had been pursued by Sabroh and the clues on body snatchers. Phoebe and Perdita finally had a flashing brainwave at the same time. Something about great minds thinking alike.
“Craven Street!” They both shouted simultaneously.
“Craven Street?” Piper asked with a puzzled expression.
In the eighteenth century, Craven Street was a district full of lawyers; as there seemed a clean, professional air about the place. What perfect a location to hide out and carry out mass illegal dissections and experiments than right under the snooty noses of lawyers.
Perhaps a most gruesome thought would be that many bodies snatched were probably those of lawyers themselves. Poetic justice? Or perhaps legal justice?
“It’s history lesson time again Piper.” Phoebe laughed. “Remember the Founding Fathers? Ben Franklin, the most famous one of all?” Phoebe replied sharply.
“The guy who flew his kite in a thunder storm and discovered electricity. Yeah what about him?
“Well apparently it’s rumoured he lives around here. Craven Street. Round about the eighteenth century some doctor used to live in his house and conducted medical experiments. You know, the pioneering days of medicine.” Phoebe told her.
“No,” answered Perdita softly. “It’s not a rumour. It’s a documented fact, he did live here, but it was more of an office than a home and he did rent it out to a doctor. But you might like to know Franklin did visit The Hellfire Club on many occasions.”
“Ah the notorious band of womanizing, drunken Satanists.” Phoebe joked. Then glanced at Piper’s sour expression. ”Oops sorry!” Too many jokes weren't called for at this time.
“Yeah. So?” Piper looked confused again. Her question was vacant and the know-it-all attitude of the two was agitating her.
“So, so get your thinking cap on Pipe. So they needed bodies didn’t they; and where did they get those bodies from?” Phoebe ogled her.
Piper tersely replied, “Twenty questions or are you going to give me a clue?”
“From grave diggers of course. Body snatchers. London is riddled with history. Only they were called resurrection men.”
“They got bodies from anywhere they could.” Perdita commented.
“So what’s the significance?”
“We’ve been over this already Piper.” Phoebe observed.
“Kane – he’s a modern-day Burke and Hare. Two of the most famous body snatchers of London. He’s a reincarnation most probably, or he’s been resurrected himself by Sabroh. I should have realized. His touch was petulant. Ice-cold. He was too good to be true; and a good man is 'oh so hard to find'. All those other cliches spring to mind too.” Perdita looked sad.
“Yeah. No man can be that gorgeous and be one hundred per cent good. There’s always some catch isn’t there?” Agreed Piper.
“Catch here is, he’s evil and there aren’t any ifs or buts about it and he’s got Prue!” Phoebe gave them a quick, harsh lesson in reality.
By dawn’s early light Prue was fading fast.
Perdita had felt Prue’s agony and pain when she had been captured and put into the hourglass by Sabroh. She knew, with the aid of her telepathic powers, that Prue was out of her body and was in two separate, spiritual planes.
Perdita could sense her image was flickering in and out, whilst the other sisters wondered what could be done. Phoebe recalled there was nothing in the Book of Shadows which provided an explanation for this sort of behaviour. It was just as Prue had thought to herself, now they didn’t know how long Prue could contain herself in astral projection without there being serious repercussions.
However Phoebe knew Sabroh was going to pay big time for this. Deep within her heart she hoped her vision of Prue didn’t mean this. They had been estranged for so long with Prue thinking Phoebe was hopeless. After Phoebe returned to San Francisco they had grown much closer, as sisters should be. The most dreaded thoughts entered her mind again. Then horror filled her heart once more, Aghast she screamed at herself over and over again.
“This does not signal Prue’s demise!!”
She shuddered as a chill entered her bones. She couldn’t lose her big sister now, after finding her again after all this time. In the midst of agony she despaired. Scolding herself.
Perhaps she should have told Piper and Prue of her vision of foreboding. Maybe then she could have prevented Prue from leaving her side and going out on her own. But realizing her own stupidity or irresponsibility wouldn’t really have altered her vision.
In the past she could have prevented and did prevent innocents from meeting their destinies and changing their lives, saving them even. But now. Could she have stopped Prue? She was in two minds. Since when did big sister not speak her mind and act out her own will. Feeling guilty at an inopportune moment wouldn’t help Prue now. She had to think of some alternative action before it was too late.
Piper was horrified and shocked at Phoebe’s confession.
“If you had seen our sister’s impending future doom why didn’t you tell us, her?”
“Because I wasn’t sure of what I saw and anyway it was just a brief flash. I didn't know what it meant at the time!”
Besides wasn’t there something about not using their powers for personal gain? How would that be interpreted in this scenario anyway?
Repentant, hating herself at this minute, Phoebe said,
“All I saw was Prue surrounded by flashing blues and greens, lights and reflections, like a glitterball. She looked like she was in some sort of glassy, aqueous liquid. Like a turquoise sea.”
“Fishtank! You mean.” Piper said tersely. “Oh great! Now there are two of her and we don’t know where either one is or whether she can get back into her own body or not? Especially if she’s trapped in some glass structure and can’t get out.”
“Which means we have to get to this Sabroh demon or dijinn or whatever he is and vanquish him. Sabroh steals lost or wandering souls, so Prue being in her astral state would have been wandering. It would give him ample opportunity to capture her.” Replied Phoebe. A look of anger, then worry passed over her face.
“But what does he do with the body?” Enquired Piper.
“They’re enslaved. Without a soul their body just becomes a hollow shell pandering to his every demand.” Phoebe answered.
They had to find some sort of spell to vanquish Sabroh. Only unbeknown to them Sabroh couldn’t be vanquished in the normal sense of the word.
This was easier said than done considering the Book of Shadows was at home. They couldn’t have bought it with them. It would have been funny trying to explain it to British Customs, or they’d probably have to smuggle it through. That would have been a task in itself but not really that difficult to pull off. Piper could have frozen time and everyone surrounding them. Then Prue could have wafted it through the green “Nothing to declare” zone.
“Phoeb can you think of some sort of tracking spell to locate Prue?” Piper asked.
“You think I haven’t tried that already! My mind’s come up with so many alternatives. Nothing works. Something must be interfering. A mystical force field or untapped energy. Either that or our conventional spells don’t seem to be working on this continent.
“You don’t need a spell.” Perdita cut in. “I know where they may be – but we’ve got a lot of territory to cover, especially since we have to do a lot of legwork.”
“We haven’t got the Book of Shadows with us which is a darn shame.” Phoebe protested.
“Perhaps you don’t need it. I have something you could use, but it’s not very big. It doesn’t contain many spells or anything. Just bits and pieces handed down to me over the years and other stuff I’ve come across myself. Spells I’ve made up on my own.” Pointed out Perdita.
“You know I haven’t had to fight demons, or help reunite lost people or vanquish either; because I don’t really have the Power of Three do I?” Grinned Perdita. “Here it is.”
Perdita pulled out a little black book the size of a notebook with gilt and silver edges. Laydees Spelles and Other Portente Potions, was written on the cover.
“Gosh you English really tend to do everything civilized don’t you?” Remarked Piper. “Look at the funny spelling.”
“It’s written in Medieval English – most of it dated back to the time of the Crusades and there’s some more modern stuff too.”
Phoebe flicked through the yellow stained pages.
“Here’s something – a piece on vanquishing the body of one who is brought back to walk the earth.” Phoebe mumbled to herself.
“Hmm, sounds a bit suspect to me.” Phoebe was puzzled. Piper snatched the book from Phoebe’s hand.
“I don’t know what that means?” Piper quipped.
Phoebe snatched it back.
“Do you mind Piper.”
Perdita continued with her explanation of Sabroh’s intentions.
“He’s planning to win mankind, take their souls and turn them to the dark side because of the Knights Templars.”
Knights Templars were the secret hood of knights that gave pilgrims returning to and from Jerusalem, safe passage. Hence the Middle Temple, and Inner Temple Inns of Court in legal London.
Perdita was a part of that tradition too, in a way. Being a barrister she had to join an Inn of Court. A sort of a society which helped students and qualified barristers alike and gave them support during their student year and after qualifying; and facilities to use, such as libraries. Where Perdita did most of her research. She’d wile away the hours until day and would sometimes be found by her friends sprawled out over her books. They put it down to simple dedication.
“So I suppose he blames me too somehow.” Perdita added.
“Here’s a spell containing a poultice of wheaten breadcrumbs and egg white for removing ‘worms of the face’. This would work wonders for your circles Piper!”
“Very funny. Can you quit with the jokes Phoebe and find something fast. What are worms of the face anyway?” Piper naively questioned.
“Blackheads, in those times.”
“Ugh! Phoebe that’s disgusting.” Piper replied with a sullen look.
“This definitely dates from medieval times. Look at the ingredients in some of these: boiled lizards and distilled young ravens. Yuck! This isn’t so much a book of spells, as it is of cosmetic improvements. Improve you looks without resorting to facelifts and nips and tucks. Here's something. Join hands in a circle and chant the following:
"Once, twice, thrice..which probably means we’ll have to repeat it three times. But it’s got be done in the wane of the moon and we’ll need distilled water of elderberry leaves to throw around him.”
“I don’t know what that will achieve?” Piper looked even more confused.
Now all they had to do was find Prue’s body and their foes and put an end to this whole fiasco. Neither of them knew where to start looking as Piper and Phoebe’s trip to Madame Tussaud’s had proved unfruitful. Although they did chance upon a wax figure that exhibited an uncanny resemblance to Kane.
However Phoebe had been on the right track with her theory of body snatchers.
After putting their heads together, pondering and deliberating over the clues they had in their possession, like Sabroh needing bodies to carry out his deeds, the place where Perdita had been pursued by Sabroh and the clues on body snatchers. Phoebe and Perdita finally had a flashing brainwave at the same time. Something about great minds thinking alike.
“Craven Street!” They both shouted simultaneously.
“Craven Street?” Piper asked with a puzzled expression.
In the eighteenth century, Craven Street was a district full of lawyers; as there seemed a clean, professional air about the place. What perfect a location to hide out and carry out mass illegal dissections and experiments than right under the snooty noses of lawyers.
Perhaps a most gruesome thought would be that many bodies snatched were probably those of lawyers themselves. Poetic justice? Or perhaps legal justice?
“It’s history lesson time again Piper.” Phoebe laughed. “Remember the Founding Fathers? Ben Franklin, the most famous one of all?” Phoebe replied sharply.
“The guy who flew his kite in a thunder storm and discovered electricity. Yeah what about him?
“Well apparently it’s rumoured he lives around here. Craven Street. Round about the eighteenth century some doctor used to live in his house and conducted medical experiments. You know, the pioneering days of medicine.” Phoebe told her.
“No,” answered Perdita softly. “It’s not a rumour. It’s a documented fact, he did live here, but it was more of an office than a home and he did rent it out to a doctor. But you might like to know Franklin did visit The Hellfire Club on many occasions.”
“Ah the notorious band of womanizing, drunken Satanists.” Phoebe joked. Then glanced at Piper’s sour expression. ”Oops sorry!” Too many jokes weren't called for at this time.
“Yeah. So?” Piper looked confused again. Her question was vacant and the know-it-all attitude of the two was agitating her.
“So, so get your thinking cap on Pipe. So they needed bodies didn’t they; and where did they get those bodies from?” Phoebe ogled her.
Piper tersely replied, “Twenty questions or are you going to give me a clue?”
“From grave diggers of course. Body snatchers. London is riddled with history. Only they were called resurrection men.”
“They got bodies from anywhere they could.” Perdita commented.
“So what’s the significance?”
“We’ve been over this already Piper.” Phoebe observed.
“Kane – he’s a modern-day Burke and Hare. Two of the most famous body snatchers of London. He’s a reincarnation most probably, or he’s been resurrected himself by Sabroh. I should have realized. His touch was petulant. Ice-cold. He was too good to be true; and a good man is 'oh so hard to find'. All those other cliches spring to mind too.” Perdita looked sad.
“Yeah. No man can be that gorgeous and be one hundred per cent good. There’s always some catch isn’t there?” Agreed Piper.
“Catch here is, he’s evil and there aren’t any ifs or buts about it and he’s got Prue!” Phoebe gave them a quick, harsh lesson in reality.
Friday 31 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 12
Chapter 12
“That’s it,” exclaimed Phoebe. “Remember someone was bringing wax bodies to life at Madame Tussaud’s and The London Dungeon. What if Sabroh had the power to do that?”
“But he doesn’t have a physical body – he can only manifest himself in animate form, like fire he can only appear in the form of fire or reflect himself in water.” Piper interrupted.
“His powers have been growing and he did manifest himself in a solid mass. We all saw him. Horrible as it was.” Phoebe reminded her. “And you couldn’t freeze him Piper. Which means he still needs someone to do the dirty.” Phoebe commented grabbing her bag. “Come on Pipe. I know exactly where to go.”
They ran out of their hotel and darted across town on the underground (subway). Phoebe knew exactly which train to catch and which line to take as she had studied the entire underground map the night they had arrived, when she should have been exhausted. They took the train from the brown colored Bakerloo line from Oxford Circus to Baker Street station, scurrying like busy bees. A short journey which was only two stops from end to end.
“Next stop Baker Street.” She enthused.
“Why here?” asked Piper looking flustered.
“This, sweetie, is where it all began. Remember the paper headlines: the two tourists disappearing and Perdita’s encounter with some strange man. Well right here are ye olde waxworks: Madame Tussaud’s.”
Here were housed the world famous collection of waxworks and dummies of famous people, past and present.
“What you mean Sabroh’s here!”
“I don’t think so. But then he could be anywhere. Anyway you said he needed “people” to work for him, where else can you find the devil’s minions – but here.”
“Phoeb don’t bring the devil into this – that’s just what we don’t need!”
“Quit worrying honey, it was just a figure of speech. As I was saying, remember the body snatchers?”
“No I didn’t go see the movie at the Revivalist.” Said Piper.
“Not the sci-fi movie silly! The Body Snatchers. Don’t you know your history Piper?” Phoebe remarked. Not only is it English history but US too.”
“Well I’m not the one who’s grown a big head just cos I’m back at school.” Piper said obtusely.
“Nah, it’s basic high school stuff. General knowledge even. They used to find dead people; dig up bodies and sell them to doctors for experiments and research; cutting them up and using their body parts.”
The eighteenth century was a particularly difficult and far from austere time for medicine in many countries around the world and even more so in England and America. Whereas many “doctors’ before this time were considered quacks, butchers or bloodletters, the eighteenth century regarded surgery as a suitable occupation for many young men from rich, prominent backgrounds, of good blood and breeding, it could be said, rather distastefully.
Medical schools, once created, boasted unscrupulous competition for places and more so for students of anatomy. Bodies, cadavers, were needed. Those that could be obtained legally for experiments were those of criminals. Hence the need for unsavoury characters such as body snatchers, since there was an unusual shortage of hung criminals in England for that time.
One such notorious body snatcher, so dedicated to his craft, actually snatched the body of his own sister. Adding a new dimension to the phrase “keeping it within the family!”
The most famous body snatchers in London at that time were Burke and Hare.
“So. So I don’t get where you’re going Phoebe. What would Sabroh want with Prue or with live bodies?”
“No, remember he’s a djinn he needs live people for their souls and what I mean is he’s got these two old body snatchers working for him. The twist being, these characters are taking the real thing and not dead bodies. Taking over their minds and souls probably gives him his power. If he knows Prue is a charmed one he’d want her soul even more.”
“Because she’s good?” Piper asked.
“No because she has her powers.” Phoebe wished she didn’t have to spell everything out for Piper all the time, but she felt Piper’s cautiousness probably made her not see the true picture all the time.
“Ok, so what now Phoebe? You seem to have all the answers.”
Their trip to Madame Tussaud’s proved to be a waste of time. They stumbled out looking down. They stood outside in the rain oblivious to their surroundings. As though they were standing still with the rest of the world passing them by. Crowds of people, tourists rushing round without a care in the world. Almost dejected and heartbroken they returned to their hotel where Perdita was waiting for them.
“That’s it,” exclaimed Phoebe. “Remember someone was bringing wax bodies to life at Madame Tussaud’s and The London Dungeon. What if Sabroh had the power to do that?”
“But he doesn’t have a physical body – he can only manifest himself in animate form, like fire he can only appear in the form of fire or reflect himself in water.” Piper interrupted.
“His powers have been growing and he did manifest himself in a solid mass. We all saw him. Horrible as it was.” Phoebe reminded her. “And you couldn’t freeze him Piper. Which means he still needs someone to do the dirty.” Phoebe commented grabbing her bag. “Come on Pipe. I know exactly where to go.”
They ran out of their hotel and darted across town on the underground (subway). Phoebe knew exactly which train to catch and which line to take as she had studied the entire underground map the night they had arrived, when she should have been exhausted. They took the train from the brown colored Bakerloo line from Oxford Circus to Baker Street station, scurrying like busy bees. A short journey which was only two stops from end to end.
“Next stop Baker Street.” She enthused.
“Why here?” asked Piper looking flustered.
“This, sweetie, is where it all began. Remember the paper headlines: the two tourists disappearing and Perdita’s encounter with some strange man. Well right here are ye olde waxworks: Madame Tussaud’s.”
Here were housed the world famous collection of waxworks and dummies of famous people, past and present.
“What you mean Sabroh’s here!”
“I don’t think so. But then he could be anywhere. Anyway you said he needed “people” to work for him, where else can you find the devil’s minions – but here.”
“Phoeb don’t bring the devil into this – that’s just what we don’t need!”
“Quit worrying honey, it was just a figure of speech. As I was saying, remember the body snatchers?”
“No I didn’t go see the movie at the Revivalist.” Said Piper.
“Not the sci-fi movie silly! The Body Snatchers. Don’t you know your history Piper?” Phoebe remarked. Not only is it English history but US too.”
“Well I’m not the one who’s grown a big head just cos I’m back at school.” Piper said obtusely.
“Nah, it’s basic high school stuff. General knowledge even. They used to find dead people; dig up bodies and sell them to doctors for experiments and research; cutting them up and using their body parts.”
The eighteenth century was a particularly difficult and far from austere time for medicine in many countries around the world and even more so in England and America. Whereas many “doctors’ before this time were considered quacks, butchers or bloodletters, the eighteenth century regarded surgery as a suitable occupation for many young men from rich, prominent backgrounds, of good blood and breeding, it could be said, rather distastefully.
Medical schools, once created, boasted unscrupulous competition for places and more so for students of anatomy. Bodies, cadavers, were needed. Those that could be obtained legally for experiments were those of criminals. Hence the need for unsavoury characters such as body snatchers, since there was an unusual shortage of hung criminals in England for that time.
One such notorious body snatcher, so dedicated to his craft, actually snatched the body of his own sister. Adding a new dimension to the phrase “keeping it within the family!”
The most famous body snatchers in London at that time were Burke and Hare.
“So. So I don’t get where you’re going Phoebe. What would Sabroh want with Prue or with live bodies?”
“No, remember he’s a djinn he needs live people for their souls and what I mean is he’s got these two old body snatchers working for him. The twist being, these characters are taking the real thing and not dead bodies. Taking over their minds and souls probably gives him his power. If he knows Prue is a charmed one he’d want her soul even more.”
“Because she’s good?” Piper asked.
“No because she has her powers.” Phoebe wished she didn’t have to spell everything out for Piper all the time, but she felt Piper’s cautiousness probably made her not see the true picture all the time.
“Ok, so what now Phoebe? You seem to have all the answers.”
Their trip to Madame Tussaud’s proved to be a waste of time. They stumbled out looking down. They stood outside in the rain oblivious to their surroundings. As though they were standing still with the rest of the world passing them by. Crowds of people, tourists rushing round without a care in the world. Almost dejected and heartbroken they returned to their hotel where Perdita was waiting for them.
Thursday 30 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 11
Chapter 11
For a long time Sabroh had been caged in that deep prison of walls. Termed time immemorial. Gazing upon the Sorceress’s limp body that was no more. Minah was her name and he had loved her from afar and from the start. She had forsaken him. They were from two entirely separate universes. Two entities that could not, dared not influx together. Light and dark; good and evil. He wanted Minah to be as one with him. To convert to his evil ways so they could unite. But she had defied him.
Fire and water do not mix for one would extinguish the other. Minah hadn’t felt love for him but a deep, sorrowful pity – for his kind, the good of his kind, who had been ravaged by invading armies.
Nevertheless he was still her dreaded foe and she was his. Love never once entered the sinful equation.
She had protected lost souls and guided them to their rightful place in heaven’s holy twilight. She used all her might to fight him with savage battles of mind over matter. Her mind over his matter. Winning many splendid victories. Once strong and eloquent in her fight. Now she was no more but a seraphic beauty in Sabroh’s fading memory.
***
Prue hated being helpless. She closed her eyes and astrally projected again. She appeared in the same room but this time she knocked one of the silver, floral screens she had hidden behind on her first projection. Sending it ferruling towards a mirror, crashing into a thousand pieces.
“Aagh, another seven years bad luck.” She wearily screamed.
Sabroh and Kane turned their heads to gawk and immediately Sabroh wafted his scrawny, emblazoned fingers towards her. In a flash the room filled with mystic shafts of hazy violet.
Prue found herself shrinking whilst all around her, above and below the whole room was increasing in size. She tried to project herself back but it was too late. She was a miniature and her body wouldn’t have accepted her back in that state. Prue was there but motionless, in spirit only. Her alternate self was stuck in an hourglass. Standing all alone in time. Prue had underestimated Sabroh’s powers. Thinking she could defeat him on her own.
Phoebe’s dreaded vision had come true.
Fire and water do not mix for one would extinguish the other. Minah hadn’t felt love for him but a deep, sorrowful pity – for his kind, the good of his kind, who had been ravaged by invading armies.
Nevertheless he was still her dreaded foe and she was his. Love never once entered the sinful equation.
She had protected lost souls and guided them to their rightful place in heaven’s holy twilight. She used all her might to fight him with savage battles of mind over matter. Her mind over his matter. Winning many splendid victories. Once strong and eloquent in her fight. Now she was no more but a seraphic beauty in Sabroh’s fading memory.
***
Prue hated being helpless. She closed her eyes and astrally projected again. She appeared in the same room but this time she knocked one of the silver, floral screens she had hidden behind on her first projection. Sending it ferruling towards a mirror, crashing into a thousand pieces.
“Aagh, another seven years bad luck.” She wearily screamed.
Sabroh and Kane turned their heads to gawk and immediately Sabroh wafted his scrawny, emblazoned fingers towards her. In a flash the room filled with mystic shafts of hazy violet.
Prue found herself shrinking whilst all around her, above and below the whole room was increasing in size. She tried to project herself back but it was too late. She was a miniature and her body wouldn’t have accepted her back in that state. Prue was there but motionless, in spirit only. Her alternate self was stuck in an hourglass. Standing all alone in time. Prue had underestimated Sabroh’s powers. Thinking she could defeat him on her own.
Phoebe’s dreaded vision had come true.
Wednesday 29 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Dark, sanguine echoes lulled the twilight mist. Feebly Prue fumbled in the darkness for a light, a candle. Some sense of belonging. Of being back home with her sisters. She was the eldest but time and again she felt herself let down by her own common sense. Not lack of, but from not using it. For trusting Kane and not telling the others where she was going. Now she was paying for her stupidity.
She had passed out as if last night was just a dream. A convoluted nightmare. Her face was streaked in a checkered pattern of black mascara and the feeling of barely surviving an avalanche. Her left shoulder, where Kane had kept a tight hold on her so she couldn’t fight him off with her powers, throbbed incessantly and painfully. A hot bath would have revived her, relieved her muscle pain, but not her emotional turmoil.
“Can anyone here me?” she shouted in desperation.
Shouting was futile. Desperately she crawled the space of her prison. Feeling every crack in the floorboards. Every inch of the empty walls. There was nothing there. No pictures, no doors, sounds. No visible signs of life. She heard water dripping. Was it water? Where was it? She crawled on all fours like a hungry dog in search of a bone. The tuneful dripping grew louder as she forged towards it. The wall was wet and mouldy. Maybe there was a hole in the wall, her chance to escape. She moved her hands across the wall. Up and down, round and round in circular motion. It was smooth in places, indented in others.
“There must be something!” Prue’s heart raced. Nothing. She folded her knees and rested her head on them. There was nothing else to do but sit and wait.
Was she a prisoner in time, of shadows? How had she arrived here, surrendering to the dim hollow of an eerie, cold isolation? This was existence in its bleakest. Its lowliest. How she wished for friendly faces. Those of her sisters. A brief glimmer of hope. She was a stranger in a forbidden past, present or future. No one heard her wailing. The pleas for deliverance.
The dim tunnel seemed endless. She had to sit still. No one would come. No one was here. Only shadows. The faint thoughts and distant memories of yesterday. She was in need of salvation. Of rescue. To be transported to a new world. A new beginning, one without dark, marauding shapes or desolate howlings.
Prue remembered herself as a little girl again running to greet her mother. Her warm gentle hugs and caressing voice. It was her birthday and time to open her presents. To change into her pretty pink, flowered dress. Make a wish, blow out candles. Suddenly the door was slammed shut. Everything was in turmoil. They had lost their mother, she had drowned in a lake whilst trying to defeat an evil warlock. Her heart sank. Yet all three were safe in the knowledge Gram’s would always be there to help and guide them.
Prue berated herself for being so stupid. Swept away by Kane in a moment of blind passion. It could have been a budding holiday romance but she never really had his heart. Perdita was right and so was Phoebe. She was here to work and she should have listened to them.
It had been a mistake coming to a far off mysterious land. Looking back she could remember the excitement. Her dream trip to London that many could only dream about. But this, this was like The London Dungeon itself.
Would no one come? Would she have to bear the agony of silence alone? Face the torment of bleak night. Where was her fair and princely knight? This wasn’t a fairytale but fate. Cruel and unrelenting. True heroism was a thing of the past when dragons and princesses towered the land. Graceful, strong and regal. The present was a mire. A world where everything and everyone was lost. Caught up in their own selfish existence. Friendship and love a mere fragment of her imagination. Distasteful villains and avaricious swine had squandered chivalry. They had tried to help innocents from a world full of tragedy and wickedness. Was this her reward?
Prue put her hand to her head. It was wet with the sweat of fear. There were tears in her scarlet tired eyes. She recalled the past. That was only a fleeting flicker of a memory. She was here, now. Regrets were in the past and should be forgotten. Just as she was forgotten?
Piper and Phoebe would lament her passing, burn the midnight oil with worry. Pace the floors in anguish.
Prue caught herself in a moment of despair and regret. Men were so fickle. Specifically the ones she always met. It was never meant to be. She felt so much emptiness and pain and hurt inside. Foolishly believing a mysterious man could fill all those empty far away places in her heart and mind. Such teenage rebelliousness. Teenagers had an excuse. Prue was a grown woman and should know better.
She wondered how much time had past. Was it still day or night? Her watch had been broken. Day probably turned to dusk by now. Dusk to darkness. All she could do was count the eternal hours. Imagine time lapsing. No sweet birds who could flee to the sky. To freedom far and away.
Freedom. A meaningless word. All words were imagined. All words are costly, yet still cheap and empty.
There was nothing else to do except sit and wait. Give up. Rot away in a timeless dungeon. Wait and wither like the last rose before winter and fade. Fade…
Clenching her fists tightly, she hurtled them against the stone wall in defiance. She wasn’t done yet. She wasn’t going to let a man get the better of her. She thought of Grams again. Her lessons on life. Grams wouldn’t give in without a fight and that’s what she’d taught them too.
“Never let darkness and defeat tear you down. Always think and win!”
Yes, think. That was the key. Why was she here? Closing her eyes she projected herself, astrally, into a different plane. Astral projection was another aspect of her powers that had been revealed to her as her powers had grown.
Her projected body found Prue in a majestic room. Dimly lit with candles and oil lanterns. Rich with tapestries hanging from every nook and cranny. A myriad of gold, yellow and amber was radiating around the room. In the hearth was a flickering glow. Something about the earthly fire reminded her of the finest alchemy metals, of their warmth and purity. Yet within this entire splendour lurked something eerie and sinister.
Voices seemed to be approaching. Quickly she searched the rest of the room focusing on every little object. Unfortunately there weren’t any phones anywhere. You’d think in this day and age there’d be some primitive form of communication. Of some way of getting word to the others. For some uncanny, unexplainable reason she hadn’t been able to project through the outside walls of her prison.
Hiding behind a huge, flower motif screen, she crammed her neck to see who was there. It was a large figure in a long, flowing, black velvet cloak. He turned abruptly to reveal a hideous face with protruding green, luminous eyes and slimy, dirty teeth. It was Sabroh.
The second figure was hooded but his bony, skeletal, hairless features were visible. The air turned smoggy and a great bellowing stench filled the room. Prue put her hand to her nose to stop herself breathing the odorous fumes.
“What of the other Charmed ones?” The first creature asked in a shrill, sharp voice. “Have you made any attempts at locating them?”
“The plan was to lure one of them here, thereby bringing the others after her.” He said acidly.
Prue recognized the voice immediately. It was Kane. He was no longer the handsome striking six foot dreamboat but implacably ugly and gross.
“It had better work. Now I know they are here, I need to harness the powers of all four of them if I am to bid to take over all of mankind. Make them my slaves. To exact my revenge, retribution.” The creature spoke morosely. “Slaves of everything malfeasant, especially of the dark side."
Prue retreated back into her body in the cold din. She wasn’t sure how long she could astrally project out of her normal body, as she hadn’t timed it or utilized her power to its fullest potential. Still it was better to be safe than sorry.
She pondered over their conversation. Tried to fit the pieces together. He was after Piper and Phoebe but who was the fourth person he mentioned. She thought pensively. Already this demon, or whatever he was, must be powerful, being able to menacingly transform other demons, obviously dead bodies into live beings. Kane must be dead, the walking undead? Because he wasn’t flesh and blood just now.
Sabroh’s powers embraced many aspects, including resurrecting the dead just by clicking his fingers and the ability to restore old bones to their former munificent; mortal body.
“Where is the one who calls herself Perdita? Through her tiresome meddling I haven’t been able to carry out my goal yet. My kismet has yet to be fulfilled.”
“I haven’t been able to capture her. For some reason she’s able to resist. To evade my spells.” Grunted Kane.
“She is part of the ancient realms of knights. The Knights Templars. Being an ancestor of the Sorceress, whose powers I stole, she must have developed many of her own by now. I must have her too. No one must escape my grasp!” Sabroh was contrite.
Dark, sanguine echoes lulled the twilight mist. Feebly Prue fumbled in the darkness for a light, a candle. Some sense of belonging. Of being back home with her sisters. She was the eldest but time and again she felt herself let down by her own common sense. Not lack of, but from not using it. For trusting Kane and not telling the others where she was going. Now she was paying for her stupidity.
She had passed out as if last night was just a dream. A convoluted nightmare. Her face was streaked in a checkered pattern of black mascara and the feeling of barely surviving an avalanche. Her left shoulder, where Kane had kept a tight hold on her so she couldn’t fight him off with her powers, throbbed incessantly and painfully. A hot bath would have revived her, relieved her muscle pain, but not her emotional turmoil.
“Can anyone here me?” she shouted in desperation.
Shouting was futile. Desperately she crawled the space of her prison. Feeling every crack in the floorboards. Every inch of the empty walls. There was nothing there. No pictures, no doors, sounds. No visible signs of life. She heard water dripping. Was it water? Where was it? She crawled on all fours like a hungry dog in search of a bone. The tuneful dripping grew louder as she forged towards it. The wall was wet and mouldy. Maybe there was a hole in the wall, her chance to escape. She moved her hands across the wall. Up and down, round and round in circular motion. It was smooth in places, indented in others.
“There must be something!” Prue’s heart raced. Nothing. She folded her knees and rested her head on them. There was nothing else to do but sit and wait.
Was she a prisoner in time, of shadows? How had she arrived here, surrendering to the dim hollow of an eerie, cold isolation? This was existence in its bleakest. Its lowliest. How she wished for friendly faces. Those of her sisters. A brief glimmer of hope. She was a stranger in a forbidden past, present or future. No one heard her wailing. The pleas for deliverance.
The dim tunnel seemed endless. She had to sit still. No one would come. No one was here. Only shadows. The faint thoughts and distant memories of yesterday. She was in need of salvation. Of rescue. To be transported to a new world. A new beginning, one without dark, marauding shapes or desolate howlings.
Prue remembered herself as a little girl again running to greet her mother. Her warm gentle hugs and caressing voice. It was her birthday and time to open her presents. To change into her pretty pink, flowered dress. Make a wish, blow out candles. Suddenly the door was slammed shut. Everything was in turmoil. They had lost their mother, she had drowned in a lake whilst trying to defeat an evil warlock. Her heart sank. Yet all three were safe in the knowledge Gram’s would always be there to help and guide them.
Prue berated herself for being so stupid. Swept away by Kane in a moment of blind passion. It could have been a budding holiday romance but she never really had his heart. Perdita was right and so was Phoebe. She was here to work and she should have listened to them.
It had been a mistake coming to a far off mysterious land. Looking back she could remember the excitement. Her dream trip to London that many could only dream about. But this, this was like The London Dungeon itself.
Would no one come? Would she have to bear the agony of silence alone? Face the torment of bleak night. Where was her fair and princely knight? This wasn’t a fairytale but fate. Cruel and unrelenting. True heroism was a thing of the past when dragons and princesses towered the land. Graceful, strong and regal. The present was a mire. A world where everything and everyone was lost. Caught up in their own selfish existence. Friendship and love a mere fragment of her imagination. Distasteful villains and avaricious swine had squandered chivalry. They had tried to help innocents from a world full of tragedy and wickedness. Was this her reward?
Prue put her hand to her head. It was wet with the sweat of fear. There were tears in her scarlet tired eyes. She recalled the past. That was only a fleeting flicker of a memory. She was here, now. Regrets were in the past and should be forgotten. Just as she was forgotten?
Piper and Phoebe would lament her passing, burn the midnight oil with worry. Pace the floors in anguish.
Prue caught herself in a moment of despair and regret. Men were so fickle. Specifically the ones she always met. It was never meant to be. She felt so much emptiness and pain and hurt inside. Foolishly believing a mysterious man could fill all those empty far away places in her heart and mind. Such teenage rebelliousness. Teenagers had an excuse. Prue was a grown woman and should know better.
She wondered how much time had past. Was it still day or night? Her watch had been broken. Day probably turned to dusk by now. Dusk to darkness. All she could do was count the eternal hours. Imagine time lapsing. No sweet birds who could flee to the sky. To freedom far and away.
Freedom. A meaningless word. All words were imagined. All words are costly, yet still cheap and empty.
There was nothing else to do except sit and wait. Give up. Rot away in a timeless dungeon. Wait and wither like the last rose before winter and fade. Fade…
Clenching her fists tightly, she hurtled them against the stone wall in defiance. She wasn’t done yet. She wasn’t going to let a man get the better of her. She thought of Grams again. Her lessons on life. Grams wouldn’t give in without a fight and that’s what she’d taught them too.
“Never let darkness and defeat tear you down. Always think and win!”
Yes, think. That was the key. Why was she here? Closing her eyes she projected herself, astrally, into a different plane. Astral projection was another aspect of her powers that had been revealed to her as her powers had grown.
Her projected body found Prue in a majestic room. Dimly lit with candles and oil lanterns. Rich with tapestries hanging from every nook and cranny. A myriad of gold, yellow and amber was radiating around the room. In the hearth was a flickering glow. Something about the earthly fire reminded her of the finest alchemy metals, of their warmth and purity. Yet within this entire splendour lurked something eerie and sinister.
Voices seemed to be approaching. Quickly she searched the rest of the room focusing on every little object. Unfortunately there weren’t any phones anywhere. You’d think in this day and age there’d be some primitive form of communication. Of some way of getting word to the others. For some uncanny, unexplainable reason she hadn’t been able to project through the outside walls of her prison.
Hiding behind a huge, flower motif screen, she crammed her neck to see who was there. It was a large figure in a long, flowing, black velvet cloak. He turned abruptly to reveal a hideous face with protruding green, luminous eyes and slimy, dirty teeth. It was Sabroh.
The second figure was hooded but his bony, skeletal, hairless features were visible. The air turned smoggy and a great bellowing stench filled the room. Prue put her hand to her nose to stop herself breathing the odorous fumes.
“What of the other Charmed ones?” The first creature asked in a shrill, sharp voice. “Have you made any attempts at locating them?”
“The plan was to lure one of them here, thereby bringing the others after her.” He said acidly.
Prue recognized the voice immediately. It was Kane. He was no longer the handsome striking six foot dreamboat but implacably ugly and gross.
“It had better work. Now I know they are here, I need to harness the powers of all four of them if I am to bid to take over all of mankind. Make them my slaves. To exact my revenge, retribution.” The creature spoke morosely. “Slaves of everything malfeasant, especially of the dark side."
Prue retreated back into her body in the cold din. She wasn’t sure how long she could astrally project out of her normal body, as she hadn’t timed it or utilized her power to its fullest potential. Still it was better to be safe than sorry.
She pondered over their conversation. Tried to fit the pieces together. He was after Piper and Phoebe but who was the fourth person he mentioned. She thought pensively. Already this demon, or whatever he was, must be powerful, being able to menacingly transform other demons, obviously dead bodies into live beings. Kane must be dead, the walking undead? Because he wasn’t flesh and blood just now.
Sabroh’s powers embraced many aspects, including resurrecting the dead just by clicking his fingers and the ability to restore old bones to their former munificent; mortal body.
“Where is the one who calls herself Perdita? Through her tiresome meddling I haven’t been able to carry out my goal yet. My kismet has yet to be fulfilled.”
“I haven’t been able to capture her. For some reason she’s able to resist. To evade my spells.” Grunted Kane.
“She is part of the ancient realms of knights. The Knights Templars. Being an ancestor of the Sorceress, whose powers I stole, she must have developed many of her own by now. I must have her too. No one must escape my grasp!” Sabroh was contrite.
Tuesday 28 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 9
Chapter 9
On an ill-lit night the fires shone brightly. Orange light filled the night sky as a deafening silence shrouded the landscape in a cowering din. He had burned the Sorceress. Brought death to the one who had spurned him. One in a long ancestral line of many. She had tried to ensnare him and she had succeeded not once but many times. But not anymore. He was free and she… was no more.
Her long, dark, flowing tresses sparkled in the raging fire and burnt ash smoke-like sequins embedded in a sepia mantilla.
She was a witch, or so they said. Her tiny body lay motionless on the makeshift sacrificial altar. Life had been squeezed out of her once limber, agile body.
He turned around in a bewildered state of glory. He promised vengeance on his enemies and on his friends alike. Those who wronged him and his race. His emerald green eyes appeared hollow and in them was reflected the emblazoned mist of the pyre.
With the Sorceress's demise went all her power and her soul, or so he thought. She was good and her good deeds in helping the innocent had been exploited by a malicious life force who specialized in malevolent evil. For he was not a man with a devil’s soul or a devil with the powers of a fallen angel. He wasn’t cast from any of the natural elements, not earth, nor water or air but fire. Believing man to be on this mortal realm only to be enslaved. Humans were weak.
He was created from fire by fire. In the Middle East, in Arabia and Persia and far off lands where Crusaders in their quest for world domination, to convert the heathen masses; had killed, pillaged and tortured. This life force had remained strong. They had long since vanished. He remained, promising revenge and his own brand of wrath and justice on all those who ransacked his world and his kind. On those who had imprisoned them in holy chalices and ornaments of dark crystal.
His name was Sabroh – the Defiant one. For he was a djinn. All djinns are created from fire. There was no human way to kill him or rid him from this mortal earth. He wasn’t human…after all.
With the Sorceress now gone, he had her power. He was a consuming djinn. Living off the fear and souls of mortal men. But he grew stronger from the power of witches, warlords, wizards and warlocks. The masters of light and dark shadows. This witch’s power gave him everything he needed to enter the world once more. After banishment to an eternity within a jewelled, golden chalice by the Sorceress.
She had the power to enter different realms on earth; between earth and the portals amongst them. Spreading the goodness from the seeds of her soul.
With her end had commenced Sabroh’s beginning. He was on a savage quest for belligerence and now he began a new journey. Leaving the Neverworld far behind to enter the mortal depths once more and grow stronger wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting, materialistic many.
From the ages of enlightenment, men; spirits, good witches and white sorceresses were created to protect human bodies and more importantly their own spirits. This Sorceress was one who was spawned from the enlightenment at a time when perilous evil forces ruled the land. When good versus evil was the only realm in which true beauty and survival depended.
On an ill-lit night the fires shone brightly. Orange light filled the night sky as a deafening silence shrouded the landscape in a cowering din. He had burned the Sorceress. Brought death to the one who had spurned him. One in a long ancestral line of many. She had tried to ensnare him and she had succeeded not once but many times. But not anymore. He was free and she… was no more.
Her long, dark, flowing tresses sparkled in the raging fire and burnt ash smoke-like sequins embedded in a sepia mantilla.
She was a witch, or so they said. Her tiny body lay motionless on the makeshift sacrificial altar. Life had been squeezed out of her once limber, agile body.
He turned around in a bewildered state of glory. He promised vengeance on his enemies and on his friends alike. Those who wronged him and his race. His emerald green eyes appeared hollow and in them was reflected the emblazoned mist of the pyre.
With the Sorceress's demise went all her power and her soul, or so he thought. She was good and her good deeds in helping the innocent had been exploited by a malicious life force who specialized in malevolent evil. For he was not a man with a devil’s soul or a devil with the powers of a fallen angel. He wasn’t cast from any of the natural elements, not earth, nor water or air but fire. Believing man to be on this mortal realm only to be enslaved. Humans were weak.
He was created from fire by fire. In the Middle East, in Arabia and Persia and far off lands where Crusaders in their quest for world domination, to convert the heathen masses; had killed, pillaged and tortured. This life force had remained strong. They had long since vanished. He remained, promising revenge and his own brand of wrath and justice on all those who ransacked his world and his kind. On those who had imprisoned them in holy chalices and ornaments of dark crystal.
His name was Sabroh – the Defiant one. For he was a djinn. All djinns are created from fire. There was no human way to kill him or rid him from this mortal earth. He wasn’t human…after all.
With the Sorceress now gone, he had her power. He was a consuming djinn. Living off the fear and souls of mortal men. But he grew stronger from the power of witches, warlords, wizards and warlocks. The masters of light and dark shadows. This witch’s power gave him everything he needed to enter the world once more. After banishment to an eternity within a jewelled, golden chalice by the Sorceress.
She had the power to enter different realms on earth; between earth and the portals amongst them. Spreading the goodness from the seeds of her soul.
With her end had commenced Sabroh’s beginning. He was on a savage quest for belligerence and now he began a new journey. Leaving the Neverworld far behind to enter the mortal depths once more and grow stronger wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting, materialistic many.
From the ages of enlightenment, men; spirits, good witches and white sorceresses were created to protect human bodies and more importantly their own spirits. This Sorceress was one who was spawned from the enlightenment at a time when perilous evil forces ruled the land. When good versus evil was the only realm in which true beauty and survival depended.
Monday 27 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Did Kane have some sort of skeleton in his closet? Not talking about himself much and his frequent attempts to ask Perdita for help when he didn’t really need it. Was it all a ploy to get something from her?
Kane arrived a little before noon running lithely down the steps leading from the street onto the tiny, cobbled path. Then firmly planted a kiss on Prue’s sultry, red lips. Prue took a step back in astonishment. She hadn’t been expecting such a warm greeting. Not so soon anyway.
“Come with me.” Kane boomed. “I want to show you something I think will be of interest to you.”
“I thought we were going to eat. I’m starving! (and not just for food either!)” Prue placed her hand on Kane’s arm.
A second later and she would have missed it. Perdita turned the corner to see Kane swiftly manoeuvre Prue down the street into a dark alley. She couldn’t tell if her arms were bound or not otherwise Prue could have fought him off with her powers, unless she was a willing captive.
What was he up to now and why had Prue willingly gone with him; it was beyond logic but then again she was besotted with him. Kane turned around and Perdita quickly jumped behind a large, stony column.
Now her suspicions had been confirmed. This rogue was up to no good. Not only had he lied to her about having to cancel their conference, but he was now having a secret rendezvous with Prue Halliwell of all women! This woman who had envied her from the outset. Who’d given her the cold shoulder when Phoebe introduced them. Scoffing the mere mention of the word family or cousin when it was said they could be related.
Perdita recalled the conversation. How Prue had met Phoebe’s news with blue-eyed, defenseless silence. Then she let it rip when Perdita tried to warn her about Kane and his secret, wildly, wicked side. A destructive, brutal arrogance which could only lead to recklessness and folly.
She’d even gone so far as to accuse her of being jealous when she mentioned Kane had asked her out. Almost vampingly, Prue said she wasn’t the least bit interested in what she or anyone else had to say about Kane.
Here was Kane embarking on a secret conference all of his own. Prue had given Perdita an icy stare ignoring her warnings about Kane. Not only that, she was sure envy played a part in this picture too. But she was unsure as to why. After all they hardly knew each other.
Perdita would see where Kane was going and then she’d go back for help. Find Prue’s sisters. Especially Phoebe, with whom she felt a ‘bond’. She liked Piper who was down to earth and approachable. The sensible one. Phoebe was a fellow kindred spirit.
When she arrived at the very spot where Kane and Prue had been only two seconds earlier, she was shocked to discover there weren’t any entrances or trap doors anywhere. All the windows were locked so where did they disappear? Was Kane a ghost or a floating spirit that he could walk through walls and what of Prue?
Kane hadn’t disappeared into any buildings or houses with Prue. There was a car waiting for them at the other end of the street. A broken down, beige VW Beetle.
Prue heard noises. The general hustle, bustle of city life.
“Taxi.” A grim, sharp voice had shouted nearby. She heard cars sloshing by on the drenched streets. They made the sound of ice being shaken in a drink… She turned around and saw a man huddled in a dark raincoat. His face partially covered with a striped scarf and a slate black Trilby squarely perched on his head. He was stocky and short. Not much taller than Prue herself. Though she could hardly see him in the shadowy gloom of the tall, faceless, radiating buildings around her in the alley, she noticed him squint his eyes.
“Where are we going?” Questioned Prue furtively.
“Don’t ask so many questions.” Kane crossed. Tightening his grip on Prue’s left arm.
“You’re hurting me.” She screamed. Attempting to break free and nod her head to use her powers. Her movements were fruitless.
The Beetle pulled up from behind Prue and blocked her in between the large, grey wheelie bins and the wall. Kane followed hastily, forever keeping his tight reign on her arm. The left passenger door of the car flew open in front of her. The rumbling, groaning of the engine masked the sharp, menacing voice. Kane threw her into the car. Prue twisted and turned trying to gyrate out of his hold but he was so amazingly strong. Hitting her head against the metal rim of the door she gave out a lingering yell.
In an instant the car’s engine was revved and they started moving. Prue was bound with coarse rope. The stocky man grimaced a lot and had a distinct tattoo of a snake on his right wrist. Green, red and slimy with a slithering, forked tongue. She relived the smell of sweat and aftershave. The same as the taxi driver they hailed at the airport. This man too was partial to smoking. Could it have been the same man? So much for her insult about his body odour. But he was taking a grudge too far. This wasn’t like the taxi ride through London’s history she’d taken with Kane at Madame Tussaud’s, called ‘The Spirit of London’, this was a vast, slimy ride into today’s reality.
Prue felt blood running down her cheek. Kane pulled out a smelly, reeking rag and placed it to her nose and mouth. She turned her head from side to side and tried in vain not to breathe the caressing chemical fumes from the ether. Prue eventually passed out.
Did Kane have some sort of skeleton in his closet? Not talking about himself much and his frequent attempts to ask Perdita for help when he didn’t really need it. Was it all a ploy to get something from her?
Kane arrived a little before noon running lithely down the steps leading from the street onto the tiny, cobbled path. Then firmly planted a kiss on Prue’s sultry, red lips. Prue took a step back in astonishment. She hadn’t been expecting such a warm greeting. Not so soon anyway.
“Come with me.” Kane boomed. “I want to show you something I think will be of interest to you.”
“I thought we were going to eat. I’m starving! (and not just for food either!)” Prue placed her hand on Kane’s arm.
A second later and she would have missed it. Perdita turned the corner to see Kane swiftly manoeuvre Prue down the street into a dark alley. She couldn’t tell if her arms were bound or not otherwise Prue could have fought him off with her powers, unless she was a willing captive.
What was he up to now and why had Prue willingly gone with him; it was beyond logic but then again she was besotted with him. Kane turned around and Perdita quickly jumped behind a large, stony column.
Now her suspicions had been confirmed. This rogue was up to no good. Not only had he lied to her about having to cancel their conference, but he was now having a secret rendezvous with Prue Halliwell of all women! This woman who had envied her from the outset. Who’d given her the cold shoulder when Phoebe introduced them. Scoffing the mere mention of the word family or cousin when it was said they could be related.
Perdita recalled the conversation. How Prue had met Phoebe’s news with blue-eyed, defenseless silence. Then she let it rip when Perdita tried to warn her about Kane and his secret, wildly, wicked side. A destructive, brutal arrogance which could only lead to recklessness and folly.
She’d even gone so far as to accuse her of being jealous when she mentioned Kane had asked her out. Almost vampingly, Prue said she wasn’t the least bit interested in what she or anyone else had to say about Kane.
Here was Kane embarking on a secret conference all of his own. Prue had given Perdita an icy stare ignoring her warnings about Kane. Not only that, she was sure envy played a part in this picture too. But she was unsure as to why. After all they hardly knew each other.
Perdita would see where Kane was going and then she’d go back for help. Find Prue’s sisters. Especially Phoebe, with whom she felt a ‘bond’. She liked Piper who was down to earth and approachable. The sensible one. Phoebe was a fellow kindred spirit.
When she arrived at the very spot where Kane and Prue had been only two seconds earlier, she was shocked to discover there weren’t any entrances or trap doors anywhere. All the windows were locked so where did they disappear? Was Kane a ghost or a floating spirit that he could walk through walls and what of Prue?
Kane hadn’t disappeared into any buildings or houses with Prue. There was a car waiting for them at the other end of the street. A broken down, beige VW Beetle.
Prue heard noises. The general hustle, bustle of city life.
“Taxi.” A grim, sharp voice had shouted nearby. She heard cars sloshing by on the drenched streets. They made the sound of ice being shaken in a drink… She turned around and saw a man huddled in a dark raincoat. His face partially covered with a striped scarf and a slate black Trilby squarely perched on his head. He was stocky and short. Not much taller than Prue herself. Though she could hardly see him in the shadowy gloom of the tall, faceless, radiating buildings around her in the alley, she noticed him squint his eyes.
“Where are we going?” Questioned Prue furtively.
“Don’t ask so many questions.” Kane crossed. Tightening his grip on Prue’s left arm.
“You’re hurting me.” She screamed. Attempting to break free and nod her head to use her powers. Her movements were fruitless.
The Beetle pulled up from behind Prue and blocked her in between the large, grey wheelie bins and the wall. Kane followed hastily, forever keeping his tight reign on her arm. The left passenger door of the car flew open in front of her. The rumbling, groaning of the engine masked the sharp, menacing voice. Kane threw her into the car. Prue twisted and turned trying to gyrate out of his hold but he was so amazingly strong. Hitting her head against the metal rim of the door she gave out a lingering yell.
In an instant the car’s engine was revved and they started moving. Prue was bound with coarse rope. The stocky man grimaced a lot and had a distinct tattoo of a snake on his right wrist. Green, red and slimy with a slithering, forked tongue. She relived the smell of sweat and aftershave. The same as the taxi driver they hailed at the airport. This man too was partial to smoking. Could it have been the same man? So much for her insult about his body odour. But he was taking a grudge too far. This wasn’t like the taxi ride through London’s history she’d taken with Kane at Madame Tussaud’s, called ‘The Spirit of London’, this was a vast, slimy ride into today’s reality.
Prue felt blood running down her cheek. Kane pulled out a smelly, reeking rag and placed it to her nose and mouth. She turned her head from side to side and tried in vain not to breathe the caressing chemical fumes from the ether. Prue eventually passed out.
Sunday 26 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Phoebe gestured to Prue to pick up her camera.
“Well if you want anything done you have to do it yourself,” she muttered under her breath. Kneeling down to pick it up, a cold shiver consumed her body and she turned to stone as she felt a sharp pain to her head. She hunched up her shoulders and closed her eyes.
Phoebe was having another vision. Two in one day was getting to be a bit much. Reaction came like a douche of ice-cold water, setting her nerves tingling, her spine creeping, setting the room rocking about her. This time it was closer to home than she had expected or ever hoped.
She saw Prue struggling to get out of a glass obelisk. She described it as a glass menagerie, with sparkling diamond-shaped, peach, aqua and green lights. As if she was encased in a kaleidoscope. It would have been a beautiful picture had it not set the scene for something more ugly and sinister.
Phoebe didn’t really have that many visions about her sisters before. Only a few times about Piper and Prue. But usually she had worked out, with the help of her sisters, what they had meant in time and had been there to see them through before they turned into something more grim or serious even.
Phoebe invited Perdita back to her hotel to meet her sisters. Prue however was in no mood to converse with “that woman.” The vagabond thief who had stolen her outfit.; and her man. How tasteless. More especially since she had seen her with Kane and wasn’t too happy about it.
“Well what do you expect,” Phoebe commented. “They do work together and she’s known him longer.”
“You don’t have to defend me Phoebe. I don’t want to cause any trouble between any of you.” Perdita returned.
“After all the loser guys I’ve been with, all expect Andy, of course,” Prue paused, “A holiday fling is just what the doctor ordered. Four whole days not thinking about any serious commitments or attachments. At the end of the week I can just go home and it’ll be sayonara baby! No strings.”
Andy was Prue’s first true love and she thought they were destined to be together, until Andy had been killed by a demon. From then on it had been hard in the relationship department.
“But you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s like. I for one agree with Perdita. He can’t be everything you think. She knows better.” Phoebe protested.
“So you’d trust the word of a stranger; a nobody. Little Miss Prim ’n’ Proper over me. She’s jealous, it’s written all over her face.” Prue glared madly at Perdita. She was in a huff.
“Prue I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Since meeting this Kane guy, he’s bought out the worst in you. To coin a cliché, he could be an axe murderer for all you know. What d’ya say Piper?”
“Leave me out of this. I know what Prue’s like when dating men and I don’t want to get caught in the middle again.”
“Coward. I feel closeness to her. Like I do with you and Piper. Like a special bond. We are related you know. I can instinctively feel it. In my vision I saw her name in our family tree.” Phoebe was defensive of Perdita.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Show me some hard evidence. Cold, compelling, conclusive.” Demanded Prue. Always the cold conveyor of sombre or sober news.
“For someone who has a dislike for lawyers, you’re sure beginning to sound like one Prue. Kane’s a lawyer. Do you doubt me? My visions haven’t been wrong before.” Phoebe was about to tell Prue about her vision but Perdita interrupted.
“Prue, I realize you don’t know me, or even want to know me and I do understand your reservations about trusting me, or even believing me; but I wouldn't lie. Not about something like this. I don't lie. I’ve nothing to gain.”
“Yeah, I can believe that coming from someone like you. What’s the line? “Trust me I’m a lawyer’. Lawyers lie; it’s an occupational hazard. They can’t help it.” Prue was right of course, to a certain degree.
“I’m no lawyer...”
“You’ve had your say. Both of you. Now I’m going on this lunch with Kane tomorrow whether you like it or not. Besides it’s more of a working lunch. I have to interview him for 415.” Prue was excited.
“Interview him?” Piper asked.
“Yes, it’s killing two birds with one stone. If I find romance in the midst of work then what’s the big deal?”
“We don’t trust him. He’s got shifty eyes. Piper noticed them. And another thing where was Kane when that demon made an entrance at the museum?” Phoebe was curious.
“Come to think of it Prue, where were you?” Piper chipped in.
“Powdering my nose or is that a crime now too? I heard a commotion and when I came back, I tried to redirect those fireballs but for some reason my powers didn’t work.”
“I’m starting to think this trip wasn’t a good idea. Not if you’re going to behave so irresponsibly.” Commented Phoebe.
“I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter. Come to think of it, I shouldn’t have bothered spending all my hard earned money to bring you here. You’ve been so ungrateful and haven’t quit complaining since we arrived. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here and you Phoebe, you wouldn’t even have met your new friend! The talk’s over. I’m going to bed. Oh, by the way where did you get your outfit from Perdita? It’s so garish.” Prue was adamant in her decision and so was her stubbornness. Being in a new country, new town, had really turned her head and her thinking.
“Your dress? She can talk!” Phoebe finished.
“So what now?” Announced Piper.
“Not much we can do. If she doesn’t want to listen or be helped; there’s nothing more to do or say.” Phoebe had a sour note in her voice.
“I’m going to keep an eye on Kane. That’s all I can do. We were supposed to be in conference all day tomorrow, including over lunch.” Perdita tried to sound helpful.
Phoebe gestured to Prue to pick up her camera.
“Well if you want anything done you have to do it yourself,” she muttered under her breath. Kneeling down to pick it up, a cold shiver consumed her body and she turned to stone as she felt a sharp pain to her head. She hunched up her shoulders and closed her eyes.
Phoebe was having another vision. Two in one day was getting to be a bit much. Reaction came like a douche of ice-cold water, setting her nerves tingling, her spine creeping, setting the room rocking about her. This time it was closer to home than she had expected or ever hoped.
She saw Prue struggling to get out of a glass obelisk. She described it as a glass menagerie, with sparkling diamond-shaped, peach, aqua and green lights. As if she was encased in a kaleidoscope. It would have been a beautiful picture had it not set the scene for something more ugly and sinister.
Phoebe didn’t really have that many visions about her sisters before. Only a few times about Piper and Prue. But usually she had worked out, with the help of her sisters, what they had meant in time and had been there to see them through before they turned into something more grim or serious even.
Phoebe invited Perdita back to her hotel to meet her sisters. Prue however was in no mood to converse with “that woman.” The vagabond thief who had stolen her outfit.; and her man. How tasteless. More especially since she had seen her with Kane and wasn’t too happy about it.
“Well what do you expect,” Phoebe commented. “They do work together and she’s known him longer.”
“You don’t have to defend me Phoebe. I don’t want to cause any trouble between any of you.” Perdita returned.
“After all the loser guys I’ve been with, all expect Andy, of course,” Prue paused, “A holiday fling is just what the doctor ordered. Four whole days not thinking about any serious commitments or attachments. At the end of the week I can just go home and it’ll be sayonara baby! No strings.”
Andy was Prue’s first true love and she thought they were destined to be together, until Andy had been killed by a demon. From then on it had been hard in the relationship department.
“But you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s like. I for one agree with Perdita. He can’t be everything you think. She knows better.” Phoebe protested.
“So you’d trust the word of a stranger; a nobody. Little Miss Prim ’n’ Proper over me. She’s jealous, it’s written all over her face.” Prue glared madly at Perdita. She was in a huff.
“Prue I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Since meeting this Kane guy, he’s bought out the worst in you. To coin a cliché, he could be an axe murderer for all you know. What d’ya say Piper?”
“Leave me out of this. I know what Prue’s like when dating men and I don’t want to get caught in the middle again.”
“Coward. I feel closeness to her. Like I do with you and Piper. Like a special bond. We are related you know. I can instinctively feel it. In my vision I saw her name in our family tree.” Phoebe was defensive of Perdita.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Show me some hard evidence. Cold, compelling, conclusive.” Demanded Prue. Always the cold conveyor of sombre or sober news.
“For someone who has a dislike for lawyers, you’re sure beginning to sound like one Prue. Kane’s a lawyer. Do you doubt me? My visions haven’t been wrong before.” Phoebe was about to tell Prue about her vision but Perdita interrupted.
“Prue, I realize you don’t know me, or even want to know me and I do understand your reservations about trusting me, or even believing me; but I wouldn't lie. Not about something like this. I don't lie. I’ve nothing to gain.”
“Yeah, I can believe that coming from someone like you. What’s the line? “Trust me I’m a lawyer’. Lawyers lie; it’s an occupational hazard. They can’t help it.” Prue was right of course, to a certain degree.
“I’m no lawyer...”
“You’ve had your say. Both of you. Now I’m going on this lunch with Kane tomorrow whether you like it or not. Besides it’s more of a working lunch. I have to interview him for 415.” Prue was excited.
“Interview him?” Piper asked.
“Yes, it’s killing two birds with one stone. If I find romance in the midst of work then what’s the big deal?”
“We don’t trust him. He’s got shifty eyes. Piper noticed them. And another thing where was Kane when that demon made an entrance at the museum?” Phoebe was curious.
“Come to think of it Prue, where were you?” Piper chipped in.
“Powdering my nose or is that a crime now too? I heard a commotion and when I came back, I tried to redirect those fireballs but for some reason my powers didn’t work.”
“I’m starting to think this trip wasn’t a good idea. Not if you’re going to behave so irresponsibly.” Commented Phoebe.
“I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter. Come to think of it, I shouldn’t have bothered spending all my hard earned money to bring you here. You’ve been so ungrateful and haven’t quit complaining since we arrived. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here and you Phoebe, you wouldn’t even have met your new friend! The talk’s over. I’m going to bed. Oh, by the way where did you get your outfit from Perdita? It’s so garish.” Prue was adamant in her decision and so was her stubbornness. Being in a new country, new town, had really turned her head and her thinking.
“Your dress? She can talk!” Phoebe finished.
“So what now?” Announced Piper.
“Not much we can do. If she doesn’t want to listen or be helped; there’s nothing more to do or say.” Phoebe had a sour note in her voice.
“I’m going to keep an eye on Kane. That’s all I can do. We were supposed to be in conference all day tomorrow, including over lunch.” Perdita tried to sound helpful.
Saturday 25 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Prue eyed him from afar and studied him with her glittering, hard eyes. The mysterious man with the toothy, crooked grin.
“Hmm, perfect teeth.” She picked up her bag and flounced towards his direction. Then like a cunning vixen she maneuvered herself between him and the other person he was speaking to. Prue’s eyes dwelt with naïve pleasure on his handsome face. He looked even more luscious up close and personal.
“Oh hocus pocus,” she heard him say as his eyes slithered away from the other lawyers towards her. The stranger made a quarter turn and stared at Prue out of a pair of rather dreamy pale eyes set close to a narrow nose.
“Oh no, look Prue’s done it again” Piper said. “She’s found a positive hunk out of all these fuddy duddies here. Some sisters have all the luck.” She sounded jealous.
Prue thought she’d play it sheepish. With him being English he was probably rather reserved; as she looked attentively downwards and then slowly her eyes crept back to the meaty package of manliness. Six foot, dressed in a black pin stripe suit – how de rigueur.
“Hello. I’m Prue Halliwell. Are you here for the collection too?”
“Yes, I am actually. My chambers is handling the sponsorship and the legal formalities for the exhibition.”
As he opened his mouth, Prue was devoured by his melting voice. Chambers? Prue loved the sound of that word. Chambers as in bed she thought longingly.
“So you’re into P.R then?” She gushed timidly.
“No – not really – well, I suppose you could call it P.R of a certain nature. I’m actually a barrister.” He boasted.
“Oh a lawyer. Well I’ve left my lawyer jokes at home but I could have amused you with a lot, especially the, ‘How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?’ ones.” Prue jibed with dry humor.
“Oh really. I always make a quick comeback from those. My personal favorite being “What do you call 100 clients at the bottom of the sea? Non compos mentis’. Do you get it?” Kane joked. “You’re American?” he queried. “In that case I shouldn’t have mentioned chambers then. Didn’t mean it to sound like a dungeon and I’ve been let out for good behavior.”
“Of course I am, silly! Let out to meet me. Perfect timing! I’m doing a photoshoot for my magazine, 415. So you must know plenty about this collection. I should interview you and probably take some shots too. If you don’t mind?” Enthused Prue.
“Well..” he appeared to consider. “If you take your drink here and dine with me, we shall see..”
With that the conversation sputtered to a stop. Prue imagined she was doing so well conversing with the English. Obviously looks weren’t everything and he seemed to be lacking personality.
“Oh I didn’t catch your name.” Prue added quickly.
“That’s probably because I didn’t throw it.” Kane uttered a snort, which ran through the museum like a pistol shot. “You know our name is one of the very first things we’re supposed to give. Excuse my manners. It’s Kane Willis-Kincaid.”
Prue said it to herself.
“Kane Kincaid just rolls off the tongue. That’s an unusual name.”
“Not really. It’s Kane with a ‘K’ and it pays to have a double-barreled name in my line of work. Rather posh wouldn’t you say,” as he gave her a wink.
***
Phoebe and Perdita wondered if they should say anything about what just happened or if they should just put it down to prosperity.
“Boy that was a strange episode.” Phoebe remarked frankly. “I’ve never been through anything like that before.”
“Anything like what? Having a simultaneous vision? This is new to me too. I never thought anyone else got visions. This sounds silly I know, but when I first realized I had the power to alter peoples’ thoughts and used to get weird visions, I used to put it down to my name. It’s quite unique you know.” Perdita declared.
Phoebe was flabbergasted to find a complete stranger sharing such feelings out aloud with her. They hardly knew each other and yet here was this girl telling her all sorts of things you could have been burned at the stake for even thinking, in past century’s back home.
“Perdita means “the lost one.” My ancestors, some of them, were from New Orleans. But I also have English and Spanish blood as well as Persian. My family tree also boasts a Melinda Warren and I’m supposed to be a direct descendant. Several generations, removed of course.” Perdita continued rapidly. “That’s perhaps why we both saw a family tree in our visions, right? Which may make us family or not? Distant cousins perhaps?" She was resigned in her questioning.
Before Phoebe had a chance to answer her or even to take in what she had said Perdita waspishly carried on.
“But anyway you must have heard of the legend of Perdita? At least it’s supposed to be a legend. I never really paid any heed to legends until I found out who I really was. Well, at any rate, who my ancestors were.”
The legend foretold of a young man who vowed his love to a girl named Perdita whom he had met at a ball. After he, forsaked her. Lost her. Because of his regret and woe he began a tradition of sending out money, in the form of a dowry, to poor, young brides-to-be in New Orleans. So other women wouldn’t have to suffer like she did and not be able to marry for lack of money. It became a tradition in memory of his forgotten, lost love, Perdita: “the lost one.”
Phoebe listened with intense vigor.
“At last someone who talks as much as me.” Phoebe said in silent wonder.
“Oh excuse me, I’m needed over there. It was good meeting you, I hope to see you again before you return home.” With that, she flew out of the room like a feather in the breeze.
No sooner had Perdita gone, the lights went out. Two luminous, green lights were seen. It wasn’t a power cut but a demon making his grand entrance. The green was the green of his eyes. He was after the golden chalice Phoebe saw in the glass case.
“Hurry Piper freeze him.” Shouted Phoebe shakily.
“I’m trying. It’s not working!”
The demon floated past them with his fiery body pausing to stretch out and grab Piper. She threw herself to the floor and rolled under the ice sculpture on the table. Out of his reach he turned and threw fireballs, setting the giant navy blue, velvet curtains aflame. Shattering the glass, a dark figure grasped the chalice and ran out.
Chaos ensued as people started running to escape the flames.
Prue returned from her excursion from the ladies. Saw what was happening and attempted to thwart back the demon with her powers. It was hopeless. Her actions were in vain. Nothing seemed to stop the dreaded demon dead in his tracks. In a brief moment the demon had disappeared in a flash of fire and brimstone. Prue desperately searched for her sisters.
Prue eyed him from afar and studied him with her glittering, hard eyes. The mysterious man with the toothy, crooked grin.
“Hmm, perfect teeth.” She picked up her bag and flounced towards his direction. Then like a cunning vixen she maneuvered herself between him and the other person he was speaking to. Prue’s eyes dwelt with naïve pleasure on his handsome face. He looked even more luscious up close and personal.
“Oh hocus pocus,” she heard him say as his eyes slithered away from the other lawyers towards her. The stranger made a quarter turn and stared at Prue out of a pair of rather dreamy pale eyes set close to a narrow nose.
“Oh no, look Prue’s done it again” Piper said. “She’s found a positive hunk out of all these fuddy duddies here. Some sisters have all the luck.” She sounded jealous.
Prue thought she’d play it sheepish. With him being English he was probably rather reserved; as she looked attentively downwards and then slowly her eyes crept back to the meaty package of manliness. Six foot, dressed in a black pin stripe suit – how de rigueur.
“Hello. I’m Prue Halliwell. Are you here for the collection too?”
“Yes, I am actually. My chambers is handling the sponsorship and the legal formalities for the exhibition.”
As he opened his mouth, Prue was devoured by his melting voice. Chambers? Prue loved the sound of that word. Chambers as in bed she thought longingly.
“So you’re into P.R then?” She gushed timidly.
“No – not really – well, I suppose you could call it P.R of a certain nature. I’m actually a barrister.” He boasted.
“Oh a lawyer. Well I’ve left my lawyer jokes at home but I could have amused you with a lot, especially the, ‘How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?’ ones.” Prue jibed with dry humor.
“Oh really. I always make a quick comeback from those. My personal favorite being “What do you call 100 clients at the bottom of the sea? Non compos mentis’. Do you get it?” Kane joked. “You’re American?” he queried. “In that case I shouldn’t have mentioned chambers then. Didn’t mean it to sound like a dungeon and I’ve been let out for good behavior.”
“Of course I am, silly! Let out to meet me. Perfect timing! I’m doing a photoshoot for my magazine, 415. So you must know plenty about this collection. I should interview you and probably take some shots too. If you don’t mind?” Enthused Prue.
“Well..” he appeared to consider. “If you take your drink here and dine with me, we shall see..”
With that the conversation sputtered to a stop. Prue imagined she was doing so well conversing with the English. Obviously looks weren’t everything and he seemed to be lacking personality.
“Oh I didn’t catch your name.” Prue added quickly.
“That’s probably because I didn’t throw it.” Kane uttered a snort, which ran through the museum like a pistol shot. “You know our name is one of the very first things we’re supposed to give. Excuse my manners. It’s Kane Willis-Kincaid.”
Prue said it to herself.
“Kane Kincaid just rolls off the tongue. That’s an unusual name.”
“Not really. It’s Kane with a ‘K’ and it pays to have a double-barreled name in my line of work. Rather posh wouldn’t you say,” as he gave her a wink.
***
Phoebe and Perdita wondered if they should say anything about what just happened or if they should just put it down to prosperity.
“Boy that was a strange episode.” Phoebe remarked frankly. “I’ve never been through anything like that before.”
“Anything like what? Having a simultaneous vision? This is new to me too. I never thought anyone else got visions. This sounds silly I know, but when I first realized I had the power to alter peoples’ thoughts and used to get weird visions, I used to put it down to my name. It’s quite unique you know.” Perdita declared.
Phoebe was flabbergasted to find a complete stranger sharing such feelings out aloud with her. They hardly knew each other and yet here was this girl telling her all sorts of things you could have been burned at the stake for even thinking, in past century’s back home.
“Perdita means “the lost one.” My ancestors, some of them, were from New Orleans. But I also have English and Spanish blood as well as Persian. My family tree also boasts a Melinda Warren and I’m supposed to be a direct descendant. Several generations, removed of course.” Perdita continued rapidly. “That’s perhaps why we both saw a family tree in our visions, right? Which may make us family or not? Distant cousins perhaps?" She was resigned in her questioning.
Before Phoebe had a chance to answer her or even to take in what she had said Perdita waspishly carried on.
“But anyway you must have heard of the legend of Perdita? At least it’s supposed to be a legend. I never really paid any heed to legends until I found out who I really was. Well, at any rate, who my ancestors were.”
The legend foretold of a young man who vowed his love to a girl named Perdita whom he had met at a ball. After he, forsaked her. Lost her. Because of his regret and woe he began a tradition of sending out money, in the form of a dowry, to poor, young brides-to-be in New Orleans. So other women wouldn’t have to suffer like she did and not be able to marry for lack of money. It became a tradition in memory of his forgotten, lost love, Perdita: “the lost one.”
Phoebe listened with intense vigor.
“At last someone who talks as much as me.” Phoebe said in silent wonder.
“Oh excuse me, I’m needed over there. It was good meeting you, I hope to see you again before you return home.” With that, she flew out of the room like a feather in the breeze.
No sooner had Perdita gone, the lights went out. Two luminous, green lights were seen. It wasn’t a power cut but a demon making his grand entrance. The green was the green of his eyes. He was after the golden chalice Phoebe saw in the glass case.
“Hurry Piper freeze him.” Shouted Phoebe shakily.
“I’m trying. It’s not working!”
The demon floated past them with his fiery body pausing to stretch out and grab Piper. She threw herself to the floor and rolled under the ice sculpture on the table. Out of his reach he turned and threw fireballs, setting the giant navy blue, velvet curtains aflame. Shattering the glass, a dark figure grasped the chalice and ran out.
Chaos ensued as people started running to escape the flames.
Prue returned from her excursion from the ladies. Saw what was happening and attempted to thwart back the demon with her powers. It was hopeless. Her actions were in vain. Nothing seemed to stop the dreaded demon dead in his tracks. In a brief moment the demon had disappeared in a flash of fire and brimstone. Prue desperately searched for her sisters.
Friday 24 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 5
Chapter 5
The London Museum of Art was a mish-mash of a modernist building which allowed for a riot of sumptuous color and brick work. Flushed with distinct smells and aromas of paints and artifacts. Underpinned by archaic, gothic styled towers enhancing distinct baroque undertones.
Prue emerged from under her ruby red wrap looking dressed to impress. She was wearing a burgundy, figure-hugging bodiced camisole with thin straps, a matching silk skirt filled with a patchwork of wine-red delicate floral patterns. She’d worn black strapless sandals going against Piper’s advice of boots, a more suitable, sensible choice for this weather.
“You’ll probably catch cold and end up in bed for days. With me having to play nurse.” Piper had warned her.
Upon arrival Phoebe immediately began exploring every aspect of the museum and the extraordinary artifacts. She was going to soak up all the cultural atmosphere of the exhibits and their history like she was actually there herself in that time frame. After all you never could tell when knowing some little detail about those objects and their past may come in handy in their everyday lives as the Charmed Ones. A small clue could prove extremely helpful if they ever happened to chance upon an evil demon or warlock from an ancient realm. Or another continent, such as Europe or Asia.
She found the interior boasted a rococo building with a carved alabaster doorway. A quartet of atlantes were strategically placed over ledges pouring water from amphorae; bathed in creams, caramels and pewter.
Other parts of the interior of the museum walls were brand new, lushly decorated with polished, pastel, granite tiles. Spotlessly clean. Neo classic with symmetrical arches modeled on the Venetian look, like giant paper origami structures. Porcelain figurines were dotted about the place, along with a churrigueresque façade. They would have been temples of worship for lovers of modern as well as classical art freaks everywhere.
The esplanades contained Spanish and medieval ceramics and relics. Greek and Roman works of art. Paintings by Goya. Sculptures by Benvenuto Cellini.
Phoebe was most fascinated by a bejeweled chalice. Encrusted with sapphires and the most intricate, delectable emeralds and opals. This must have a glorious story to tell. Reading the inscription in the glass case, she found it was from Spain at the time of the Spanish Moors in 711 AD.
Most of Spain and Valencia had been under Moorish rule for five centuries. A period which was dominated by the legendary Castillian Knight called El Cid. Moorish culture had brought many increases to the land, irrigation helped to nurture and oranges were planted. This bought in Argonese kings intent on taking the city for themselves. Hence the need for people to have conjured spirits such as djinns to rid their land from outsiders.
Apparently the chalice was surrounded by a myth. It was once used to capture and imprison a great djinn called Sabroh. He had been conjured by the dervishes and the Moors to aid them in their fight against their oppressors and the infidels in Valencia, Spain, during the fifteenth century. This was not so much a genie in a bottle; as a demon, a djinn in a decanter. Phoebe laughed.
“Well it’s not exactly I Dream of Jeannie.”
***
“Did you see that girl? She was dressed in the same clothes as me! The nerve of some people.” Prue was green with envy.
“Well Prue honey, you’re not exactly wearing a ‘one-off’ off the rack original are you? Get over your clothes and what you look like, that’s so passe!” Piper commented.
“No, it was, is, an original, the woman in the store said so. I want a refund!”
“Since when were you so gullible and believed everything a shop assistant told you?” Piper replied.
“Since I spent a small fortune!” Huffed Prue.
Phoebe wasn’t even listening to Prue’s lamenting. Someone else had grabbed her attention. She was shocked and surprised at actually meeting the mysterious stranger who had just bumped into Prue and caused her to spill her drink. Was it accidentally on purpose, she thought?
But Prue’s clothes were furthest from her mind. At this point in time, like Prue, she was only interested in that girl, but for different reasons. Could it really be? Was it really the girl in her dreams? As opposed to the girl of her dreams. Well the one she’d been dreaming of subconsciously.
It must be her because she looked the same. Brown eyes, auburn-brown hair, and rosy lips. Resembling Phoebe in many ways; mannerisms, gestures, but yet still different enough to retain her own identity. Who was she? Having an inquisitive nature she had to investigate.
“Hello. Forgive my sister making that awful scene back there. She’s really protective about her clothes. Her entire wardrobe in fact. We can’t borrow anything of hers without her permission or knowledge. She’s got such a large collection but instinctively knows when something goes missing. I’m Phoebe by the way.”
“You know I assumed my outfit was an original. I have this eclectic sense of dress or so people tell me. I usually wear clothes that are meant to be worn on a specific part of the body somewhere else. You know shawls as tops and scarves as skirts. I’m also into that new age retro style. I suppose it’s because I have to wear conservative suits to work. Not everyone’s heard of dressing down yet. OH I’m sorry to go on about clothes – I’m probably boring you. To say the least.”
“You’re not boring me. Believe me with two sisters around you get used to all sorts of things and in a hurry too.”
“Ooh, my name’s Perdita. Pleased to meet you.”
Perdita extended her hand towards Phoebe in a friendly gesture. Phoebe took her hand and they shook. Suddenly the two them froze as an intense energy passed from their hands and entered their bodies. They felt the full force of a mystical field as though a bolt of lightening jarred every inch of their life force. An earth shattering experience.
Phoebe had a vision and Perdita had one too. Each wondered if the other could feel what she had felt. Sensed what each had seen. They pulled away quickly. Then stood motionless. Their gaze firmly transposed upon one other.
Phoebe and Perdita had seen a book in their collective visions. A generic family tree. Phoebe immediately recognized it as being their own. Gram’s name was near the middle and Melinda Warren near the top. But there was something else too. Phoebe had seen another picture. It was a glass prison and someone, a girl, trapped within its scarlet glare. Flashing colors radiating all around. Neither was aware of the prophetic vision or its consequences which would eventually present themselves in a most dangerous and evil manner.
The London Museum of Art was a mish-mash of a modernist building which allowed for a riot of sumptuous color and brick work. Flushed with distinct smells and aromas of paints and artifacts. Underpinned by archaic, gothic styled towers enhancing distinct baroque undertones.
Prue emerged from under her ruby red wrap looking dressed to impress. She was wearing a burgundy, figure-hugging bodiced camisole with thin straps, a matching silk skirt filled with a patchwork of wine-red delicate floral patterns. She’d worn black strapless sandals going against Piper’s advice of boots, a more suitable, sensible choice for this weather.
“You’ll probably catch cold and end up in bed for days. With me having to play nurse.” Piper had warned her.
Upon arrival Phoebe immediately began exploring every aspect of the museum and the extraordinary artifacts. She was going to soak up all the cultural atmosphere of the exhibits and their history like she was actually there herself in that time frame. After all you never could tell when knowing some little detail about those objects and their past may come in handy in their everyday lives as the Charmed Ones. A small clue could prove extremely helpful if they ever happened to chance upon an evil demon or warlock from an ancient realm. Or another continent, such as Europe or Asia.
She found the interior boasted a rococo building with a carved alabaster doorway. A quartet of atlantes were strategically placed over ledges pouring water from amphorae; bathed in creams, caramels and pewter.
Other parts of the interior of the museum walls were brand new, lushly decorated with polished, pastel, granite tiles. Spotlessly clean. Neo classic with symmetrical arches modeled on the Venetian look, like giant paper origami structures. Porcelain figurines were dotted about the place, along with a churrigueresque façade. They would have been temples of worship for lovers of modern as well as classical art freaks everywhere.
The esplanades contained Spanish and medieval ceramics and relics. Greek and Roman works of art. Paintings by Goya. Sculptures by Benvenuto Cellini.
Phoebe was most fascinated by a bejeweled chalice. Encrusted with sapphires and the most intricate, delectable emeralds and opals. This must have a glorious story to tell. Reading the inscription in the glass case, she found it was from Spain at the time of the Spanish Moors in 711 AD.
Most of Spain and Valencia had been under Moorish rule for five centuries. A period which was dominated by the legendary Castillian Knight called El Cid. Moorish culture had brought many increases to the land, irrigation helped to nurture and oranges were planted. This bought in Argonese kings intent on taking the city for themselves. Hence the need for people to have conjured spirits such as djinns to rid their land from outsiders.
Apparently the chalice was surrounded by a myth. It was once used to capture and imprison a great djinn called Sabroh. He had been conjured by the dervishes and the Moors to aid them in their fight against their oppressors and the infidels in Valencia, Spain, during the fifteenth century. This was not so much a genie in a bottle; as a demon, a djinn in a decanter. Phoebe laughed.
“Well it’s not exactly I Dream of Jeannie.”
***
“Did you see that girl? She was dressed in the same clothes as me! The nerve of some people.” Prue was green with envy.
“Well Prue honey, you’re not exactly wearing a ‘one-off’ off the rack original are you? Get over your clothes and what you look like, that’s so passe!” Piper commented.
“No, it was, is, an original, the woman in the store said so. I want a refund!”
“Since when were you so gullible and believed everything a shop assistant told you?” Piper replied.
“Since I spent a small fortune!” Huffed Prue.
Phoebe wasn’t even listening to Prue’s lamenting. Someone else had grabbed her attention. She was shocked and surprised at actually meeting the mysterious stranger who had just bumped into Prue and caused her to spill her drink. Was it accidentally on purpose, she thought?
But Prue’s clothes were furthest from her mind. At this point in time, like Prue, she was only interested in that girl, but for different reasons. Could it really be? Was it really the girl in her dreams? As opposed to the girl of her dreams. Well the one she’d been dreaming of subconsciously.
It must be her because she looked the same. Brown eyes, auburn-brown hair, and rosy lips. Resembling Phoebe in many ways; mannerisms, gestures, but yet still different enough to retain her own identity. Who was she? Having an inquisitive nature she had to investigate.
“Hello. Forgive my sister making that awful scene back there. She’s really protective about her clothes. Her entire wardrobe in fact. We can’t borrow anything of hers without her permission or knowledge. She’s got such a large collection but instinctively knows when something goes missing. I’m Phoebe by the way.”
“You know I assumed my outfit was an original. I have this eclectic sense of dress or so people tell me. I usually wear clothes that are meant to be worn on a specific part of the body somewhere else. You know shawls as tops and scarves as skirts. I’m also into that new age retro style. I suppose it’s because I have to wear conservative suits to work. Not everyone’s heard of dressing down yet. OH I’m sorry to go on about clothes – I’m probably boring you. To say the least.”
“You’re not boring me. Believe me with two sisters around you get used to all sorts of things and in a hurry too.”
“Ooh, my name’s Perdita. Pleased to meet you.”
Perdita extended her hand towards Phoebe in a friendly gesture. Phoebe took her hand and they shook. Suddenly the two them froze as an intense energy passed from their hands and entered their bodies. They felt the full force of a mystical field as though a bolt of lightening jarred every inch of their life force. An earth shattering experience.
Phoebe had a vision and Perdita had one too. Each wondered if the other could feel what she had felt. Sensed what each had seen. They pulled away quickly. Then stood motionless. Their gaze firmly transposed upon one other.
Phoebe and Perdita had seen a book in their collective visions. A generic family tree. Phoebe immediately recognized it as being their own. Gram’s name was near the middle and Melinda Warren near the top. But there was something else too. Phoebe had seen another picture. It was a glass prison and someone, a girl, trapped within its scarlet glare. Flashing colors radiating all around. Neither was aware of the prophetic vision or its consequences which would eventually present themselves in a most dangerous and evil manner.
Thursday 23 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 4
Chapter 4
“Piper slow down and stop making a nuisance of yourself,” Prue called out. “Anyone would think you’ve never been on a plane before.”
“Ooh, ooh I want the seat by the window!” Piper charged past Phoebe and nearly mowed down an old lady in the process, as she slumped into a heap in her treasured seat. This wasn’t Piper’s first time on a plane but she was always fascinated by them like a child with a new toy.
The flight was anything but perfect. But Phoebe couldn’t get the dream out of her head. Who was that girl? She found she couldn’t sleep either. It was turning out to be such a bumpy ride. Not only due to the turbulence of the plane and Piper’s stomach, but also because of her turbulent feelings. Attempting to close her eyes, her shoulders jerked but nothing moved in her face. Phoebe gave up all thought of shutting her eyes and pulled guidebooks and maps of London from her bag. At least language won't be a problem.
It was a dull, overcast day as they stepped off the plane. They expressly checked out of customs and into a black taxi. Black cabs were meant to be more reliable and safe.
“Where to ladies?” asked the driver in a cockney accent.
“Park Hotel, West End.” Prue answered as she smelt the sweat and aftershave and squinted her face. The taxi driver was partial to smoking. She sniffed the burned out tobacco on his breath.
Taxis and cars swished by on the slippery rain-drenched freeway, glistening in the yellow sodium lights like linoleum interspersed with oil. Their first glimpse of London was dismal and bleak.
The taxi ride was long and tedious. Nothing could be seen from the windows. Rain trickled down the panes of glass like sticky honey so they snuggled back into the seat and waited for journey’s end.
“£70 luv” the driver demanded.
“Keep the change,” Prue replied; “And personal hygiene costs nothing!” she muttered under her breath as she slammed the back door.
“That was uncalled for Prue.” Piper retorted.
Prue just shrugged.
The hotel was far from impressive. Static, sterile, antiseptic modern building with people scurrying about. As for their room. Phoebe remarked,
“It’s just like Halliwell manor.” Prue turned to peer owlishly at her sister.
“This is one of the best hotels around. It’s just off Oxford Street. One of the greatest places to shop. Famous rock stars stay here you know. Bon Jovi. Michael Jackson.”
“Yeah, all the archaic ones.” Phoebe chuckled as she hooked a chair with her foot, drew it close to the table and sat down.
“Admit it Prue,” Piper laughed, “You were thinking about clothes all along.”
“Well I do need something for the gala at the museum don’t I?”
Quick as a flash Prue grabbed her wallet containing her credit cards and was about to hit the stores big time. Nothing was going to stop her from her favorite ritual not even something termed jetlag, or the British weather.
“Anyone want to join me?” Prue asked.
“Count me out”, Phoebe insisted. “I’m going to chill out in your wonderful hotelroom and see if I can’t rest up. I’ve planned a major sightseeing tour for us and I for one am not going to miss out on the museums and waxworks. Madame Tussaud’s is an adventure waiting to happen.”
“Me too,” said Piper, “ I want to look at least presentable for tomorrow. I may want to check out the club scene round here too and remember don’t buy anymore bags.”
“Or boots!” Phoebe added sarcastically.
“Piper slow down and stop making a nuisance of yourself,” Prue called out. “Anyone would think you’ve never been on a plane before.”
“Ooh, ooh I want the seat by the window!” Piper charged past Phoebe and nearly mowed down an old lady in the process, as she slumped into a heap in her treasured seat. This wasn’t Piper’s first time on a plane but she was always fascinated by them like a child with a new toy.
The flight was anything but perfect. But Phoebe couldn’t get the dream out of her head. Who was that girl? She found she couldn’t sleep either. It was turning out to be such a bumpy ride. Not only due to the turbulence of the plane and Piper’s stomach, but also because of her turbulent feelings. Attempting to close her eyes, her shoulders jerked but nothing moved in her face. Phoebe gave up all thought of shutting her eyes and pulled guidebooks and maps of London from her bag. At least language won't be a problem.
It was a dull, overcast day as they stepped off the plane. They expressly checked out of customs and into a black taxi. Black cabs were meant to be more reliable and safe.
“Where to ladies?” asked the driver in a cockney accent.
“Park Hotel, West End.” Prue answered as she smelt the sweat and aftershave and squinted her face. The taxi driver was partial to smoking. She sniffed the burned out tobacco on his breath.
Taxis and cars swished by on the slippery rain-drenched freeway, glistening in the yellow sodium lights like linoleum interspersed with oil. Their first glimpse of London was dismal and bleak.
The taxi ride was long and tedious. Nothing could be seen from the windows. Rain trickled down the panes of glass like sticky honey so they snuggled back into the seat and waited for journey’s end.
“£70 luv” the driver demanded.
“Keep the change,” Prue replied; “And personal hygiene costs nothing!” she muttered under her breath as she slammed the back door.
“That was uncalled for Prue.” Piper retorted.
Prue just shrugged.
The hotel was far from impressive. Static, sterile, antiseptic modern building with people scurrying about. As for their room. Phoebe remarked,
“It’s just like Halliwell manor.” Prue turned to peer owlishly at her sister.
“This is one of the best hotels around. It’s just off Oxford Street. One of the greatest places to shop. Famous rock stars stay here you know. Bon Jovi. Michael Jackson.”
“Yeah, all the archaic ones.” Phoebe chuckled as she hooked a chair with her foot, drew it close to the table and sat down.
“Admit it Prue,” Piper laughed, “You were thinking about clothes all along.”
“Well I do need something for the gala at the museum don’t I?”
Quick as a flash Prue grabbed her wallet containing her credit cards and was about to hit the stores big time. Nothing was going to stop her from her favorite ritual not even something termed jetlag, or the British weather.
“Anyone want to join me?” Prue asked.
“Count me out”, Phoebe insisted. “I’m going to chill out in your wonderful hotelroom and see if I can’t rest up. I’ve planned a major sightseeing tour for us and I for one am not going to miss out on the museums and waxworks. Madame Tussaud’s is an adventure waiting to happen.”
“Me too,” said Piper, “ I want to look at least presentable for tomorrow. I may want to check out the club scene round here too and remember don’t buy anymore bags.”
“Or boots!” Phoebe added sarcastically.
Wednesday 22 July 2015
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 3
Chapter 3
London, England.
Perdita walked down the cobbled paving stones of legal London. This was the highlife. She had achieved her ambition to be a barrister. Only a junior one at this stage. But it was a really good start and she had a warm feeling about everything in her life. To walk down these streets where so many famous names had graced their steps before her was a monumental event. Since during the eighteenth century, the Bar was an inaccessible place, especially to women. In fact barristers were few and far between. A profession for the elite and those who could afford schooling.
Walking the paving stones of Inner Temple was like walking into another period of history, of time. It was to walk with the likes of Charles Dickens’ Sydney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities, or even Dickens himself. Barristers in fleeting attire with their periwigs, conjured up bygone days and eerie ghosts of legal life long past. Following in the lightly trodden footsteps of Dr Johnson, a famous Londoner.
However today the short walk from court to her chambers (law office) seemed an eternity. Although it was only four in the afternoon, it was the middle of winter and it got dark very early. To top it off it had been raining. Dark grey clouds hung over the skyline painting it into a sinister looking canvas. The slicked out streets glistened like a lavish carpet on which the traffic seemed to stand still. Perdita recalled the events from two nights ago.
That night the moon had chosen to disappear behind the fluffy, cotton wool clouds casting strange shadows in unusual places. The trees looked like wild panthers ready to pounce. There was a dark patch of street a few feet away from the entrance to a bleak house.
“That’s where I saw them disappear. Then I glimpsed a figure. A dark shadow which appeared to be a man coming towards me; or some creature of the twilight hours. I screamed out for help. Gasping and panting for every suffocated breath of air. Foolishly I believed he could have..would have helped me.” But her would-be knight had been nothing more than her everlasting torment.
Perdita recalled the past events to some of her friends. Some teenage tourists had disappeared whilst attending a rave in one of the dingy parts of the city. Perdita had seen them vanish and when she tried to help was chased away, her own life in peril.
“I began to run. It was instinct. Second nature. Never for one moment thinking about what he would do; or about my own safety. I had to get help.”
Who would have dared to help or even have listened to her? She was in hysterics. Frantic. The streets were desolate. Even if anyone was around they’d have been too frightened to move. To venture out of their four walls of safety. Their fortified fortresses of cement and plaster.
“I noticed a car on the rained out street. Screeching and wailing. Wildly I tried to signal the driver. Waving my arms about like a ferocious windmill in a sudden, unrelenting summer storm.”
He just carried on driving the metallic monster. Perhaps he didn’t see her. Didn’t want to. Never noticed a wide-eyed flame-brown haired woman chasing after him or being chased.
“I ran until I could no longer run. Until I ripped my skirt. Lost my shoe. Like a flustered, distressed Cinderella. Eventually I admitted defeat.” Perdita didn’t tell them of what else she’d seen. It was too amazing a sight. None of them would have believed her anyway. They’d accuse her of exaggerating or say she was most probably in shock.
Sometimes when she thought of it she had trouble coming to terms with it too. A fire-eyed monster oozing slime with hollow green eyes. She felt she had imagined it. But her imagination wasn’t that wild or warped. In reality it wasn’t imagined. The monster was as real and as alive as she was.
Perdita had been stalked. Even the police were miffed at the disappearances. Exhausted and bewildered. She spent fifteen agonizing minutes with them.
“What were you doing out so late? All alone? Or was she? Why wasn’t she more careful?” On and on they droned like a broken record. Fat lot of good they were. Having the tables turned on her as if she had any part in those kidnappings. They were neither attractive nor comforting.
Where was her Agent Fox Mulder now?
She was a barrister. They frowned at her. Gazed upon her with suspicion and innuendo. Good thing she never told them about the ‘real’ creature she’d seen. Flaming body; venomous, green protruding eyes.
Perdita needn’t have bothered. She wasn’t treated like a witness but like a suspect. Endlessly interrogated. Now she knew how a common criminal felt. Only she hadn’t done anything wrong. Broken any laws.
Perdita locked her door and poured herself a large brandy. Convincing herself it was purely for medicinal purposes. She wasn’t a drinker. Never touched the stuff. It tasted warm. Bitter, but she was in dire need of consoling. To forget everything about the terrifying encounter. Even for a couple of tortured hours.
At chambers all her friends and colleagues had heard of her ordeal. Not with the raving monster but with the local police.
“It’s getting to be like the old days again.” Remarked one of her colleagues. “A woman needs a bodyguard to escort her home.”
At which point Perdita glanced over to Kane. She had worked with Kane for about six months now and she found him to cut a fine figure of a man. Or to use the modern parlance. He was a bit of a hottie. With his ice-blue eyes and raven black hair. He was to die for, not literally speaking of course. But his eyes. There was a certain something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something menacing.
Perhaps the ice blue was the problem. Maybe the ice ran deeper into his veins and was embodied in his blood and further still into his heart.
Although he had always been civil to her and never cold, Kane was fast developing a reputation around chambers as a ruthless “head-hunter” type. That was no big deal in this profession, but he was well known for tearing the opposition to shreds. Fiery in nature also meant fierce in the boardroom and presumably in the bedroom too. But what was Perdita thinking letting her thoughts wander like that.
She found it strange she could never read his mind. Well her powers didn’t really extend to reading minds per se. She could sense feelings, emotions, as well as having the power to alter thoughts. Akin to hypnotic suggestions. Her powers were more telepathic than supernatural.
“Make him fall in love with me,” she giggled to herself. Where did he get that name from anyway? Even though her name was distinguished and had origins; his stemmed back to the time of Adam and Eve. Since the beginning of the world itself and one of the original sins – murder! Cane and Abel.
If anyone found out about her powers, her wicca powers, as Perdita called them, they’d probably insinuate she’d been using them to influence decisions of judges and juries alike in court. A sort of a personal gain for her. Since the more cases she won, the more she’d gain a reputation for herself. With that would come status, promotion and her name higher up the name plaque outside chambers. A bigger profile where she’d be calling the shots. Dream on!
“Afternoon,” she heard a sweet-sounding voice say to her. Sickly sweet? It was the “god” himself. Speak of the devil. He must have felt his ears roasting. Perdita felt a shiver down her spine as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Someone had walked over her grave. Through her thick jacket she felt his frosty touch.
“Goodness. You startled me there.” She jerked her body forward in an attempt to loosen his grip. Boy did he just come out of the freezer.
He was always turning up in the wrong place at the wrong time or vice versa. Once he was there when Perdita felt someone had been following her; and out of the grim shadows Kane had appeared to save the day. Just as on the night those teenagers had vanished, when someone was chasing her on the street. Her savior or her tormentor? She wished she knew. Now reading minds would have come in handy.
“I wonder if you could help me out with a case I’m working on? I seem to be stuck on finding a precedent.” A likely story she thought to herself.
“You could try the Net. Unless you’ve exhausted all the possibilities like Lexis. I mean you are familiar with computer technology aren’t you?” The wonders of the twenty first century. You had to be computer literate to get a job in this place otherwise you couldn’t get your foot through the door. Unless he had connections or family. Nepotism was rife in the legal profession of this country. Old school ties also came in handy too. Especially for men. So that’s probably how Kane got work here. That or he obviously impressed the women on the candidate selection committee.
London, England.
Perdita walked down the cobbled paving stones of legal London. This was the highlife. She had achieved her ambition to be a barrister. Only a junior one at this stage. But it was a really good start and she had a warm feeling about everything in her life. To walk down these streets where so many famous names had graced their steps before her was a monumental event. Since during the eighteenth century, the Bar was an inaccessible place, especially to women. In fact barristers were few and far between. A profession for the elite and those who could afford schooling.
Walking the paving stones of Inner Temple was like walking into another period of history, of time. It was to walk with the likes of Charles Dickens’ Sydney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities, or even Dickens himself. Barristers in fleeting attire with their periwigs, conjured up bygone days and eerie ghosts of legal life long past. Following in the lightly trodden footsteps of Dr Johnson, a famous Londoner.
However today the short walk from court to her chambers (law office) seemed an eternity. Although it was only four in the afternoon, it was the middle of winter and it got dark very early. To top it off it had been raining. Dark grey clouds hung over the skyline painting it into a sinister looking canvas. The slicked out streets glistened like a lavish carpet on which the traffic seemed to stand still. Perdita recalled the events from two nights ago.
That night the moon had chosen to disappear behind the fluffy, cotton wool clouds casting strange shadows in unusual places. The trees looked like wild panthers ready to pounce. There was a dark patch of street a few feet away from the entrance to a bleak house.
“That’s where I saw them disappear. Then I glimpsed a figure. A dark shadow which appeared to be a man coming towards me; or some creature of the twilight hours. I screamed out for help. Gasping and panting for every suffocated breath of air. Foolishly I believed he could have..would have helped me.” But her would-be knight had been nothing more than her everlasting torment.
Perdita recalled the past events to some of her friends. Some teenage tourists had disappeared whilst attending a rave in one of the dingy parts of the city. Perdita had seen them vanish and when she tried to help was chased away, her own life in peril.
“I began to run. It was instinct. Second nature. Never for one moment thinking about what he would do; or about my own safety. I had to get help.”
Who would have dared to help or even have listened to her? She was in hysterics. Frantic. The streets were desolate. Even if anyone was around they’d have been too frightened to move. To venture out of their four walls of safety. Their fortified fortresses of cement and plaster.
“I noticed a car on the rained out street. Screeching and wailing. Wildly I tried to signal the driver. Waving my arms about like a ferocious windmill in a sudden, unrelenting summer storm.”
He just carried on driving the metallic monster. Perhaps he didn’t see her. Didn’t want to. Never noticed a wide-eyed flame-brown haired woman chasing after him or being chased.
“I ran until I could no longer run. Until I ripped my skirt. Lost my shoe. Like a flustered, distressed Cinderella. Eventually I admitted defeat.” Perdita didn’t tell them of what else she’d seen. It was too amazing a sight. None of them would have believed her anyway. They’d accuse her of exaggerating or say she was most probably in shock.
Sometimes when she thought of it she had trouble coming to terms with it too. A fire-eyed monster oozing slime with hollow green eyes. She felt she had imagined it. But her imagination wasn’t that wild or warped. In reality it wasn’t imagined. The monster was as real and as alive as she was.
Perdita had been stalked. Even the police were miffed at the disappearances. Exhausted and bewildered. She spent fifteen agonizing minutes with them.
“What were you doing out so late? All alone? Or was she? Why wasn’t she more careful?” On and on they droned like a broken record. Fat lot of good they were. Having the tables turned on her as if she had any part in those kidnappings. They were neither attractive nor comforting.
Where was her Agent Fox Mulder now?
She was a barrister. They frowned at her. Gazed upon her with suspicion and innuendo. Good thing she never told them about the ‘real’ creature she’d seen. Flaming body; venomous, green protruding eyes.
Perdita needn’t have bothered. She wasn’t treated like a witness but like a suspect. Endlessly interrogated. Now she knew how a common criminal felt. Only she hadn’t done anything wrong. Broken any laws.
Perdita locked her door and poured herself a large brandy. Convincing herself it was purely for medicinal purposes. She wasn’t a drinker. Never touched the stuff. It tasted warm. Bitter, but she was in dire need of consoling. To forget everything about the terrifying encounter. Even for a couple of tortured hours.
At chambers all her friends and colleagues had heard of her ordeal. Not with the raving monster but with the local police.
“It’s getting to be like the old days again.” Remarked one of her colleagues. “A woman needs a bodyguard to escort her home.”
At which point Perdita glanced over to Kane. She had worked with Kane for about six months now and she found him to cut a fine figure of a man. Or to use the modern parlance. He was a bit of a hottie. With his ice-blue eyes and raven black hair. He was to die for, not literally speaking of course. But his eyes. There was a certain something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something menacing.
Perhaps the ice blue was the problem. Maybe the ice ran deeper into his veins and was embodied in his blood and further still into his heart.
Although he had always been civil to her and never cold, Kane was fast developing a reputation around chambers as a ruthless “head-hunter” type. That was no big deal in this profession, but he was well known for tearing the opposition to shreds. Fiery in nature also meant fierce in the boardroom and presumably in the bedroom too. But what was Perdita thinking letting her thoughts wander like that.
She found it strange she could never read his mind. Well her powers didn’t really extend to reading minds per se. She could sense feelings, emotions, as well as having the power to alter thoughts. Akin to hypnotic suggestions. Her powers were more telepathic than supernatural.
“Make him fall in love with me,” she giggled to herself. Where did he get that name from anyway? Even though her name was distinguished and had origins; his stemmed back to the time of Adam and Eve. Since the beginning of the world itself and one of the original sins – murder! Cane and Abel.
If anyone found out about her powers, her wicca powers, as Perdita called them, they’d probably insinuate she’d been using them to influence decisions of judges and juries alike in court. A sort of a personal gain for her. Since the more cases she won, the more she’d gain a reputation for herself. With that would come status, promotion and her name higher up the name plaque outside chambers. A bigger profile where she’d be calling the shots. Dream on!
“Afternoon,” she heard a sweet-sounding voice say to her. Sickly sweet? It was the “god” himself. Speak of the devil. He must have felt his ears roasting. Perdita felt a shiver down her spine as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Someone had walked over her grave. Through her thick jacket she felt his frosty touch.
“Goodness. You startled me there.” She jerked her body forward in an attempt to loosen his grip. Boy did he just come out of the freezer.
He was always turning up in the wrong place at the wrong time or vice versa. Once he was there when Perdita felt someone had been following her; and out of the grim shadows Kane had appeared to save the day. Just as on the night those teenagers had vanished, when someone was chasing her on the street. Her savior or her tormentor? She wished she knew. Now reading minds would have come in handy.
“I wonder if you could help me out with a case I’m working on? I seem to be stuck on finding a precedent.” A likely story she thought to herself.
“You could try the Net. Unless you’ve exhausted all the possibilities like Lexis. I mean you are familiar with computer technology aren’t you?” The wonders of the twenty first century. You had to be computer literate to get a job in this place otherwise you couldn’t get your foot through the door. Unless he had connections or family. Nepotism was rife in the legal profession of this country. Old school ties also came in handy too. Especially for men. So that’s probably how Kane got work here. That or he obviously impressed the women on the candidate selection committee.
Charmed "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 2
Chapter 2
“Are you ready Piper?” shouted Phoebe. “Enough make-up already, we’ll miss our flight!”
Piper came out of the bathroom looking the worse for wear. All that partying at P3 the night before had left her tired and sulky and in a foul mood.
“Can you stop shouting Phoebe. Not everyone can be so cheerful this early! Look at my circles.” She pointed to the dark crevices under her eyes.
“Age is definitely catching up with you girl!”
“Get away,” Piper nagged as she hit Phoebe on the shoulder.
“Aren’t either of you ready yet?” Prue appeared in the doorway.
“I don’t see why we all have to go with you” Piper moaned. “Not this early anyway.”
“Oh come on it’s a great way to see London. An all expenses paid trip. You should be lucky my magazine, 415, forked out so lavishly and gave me a bonus too.” Prue had an assignment in London, England to photograph the Millennium Collection. A great find of artifacts and object Des arts from an archaeological dig in the Middle East. For one fleeting moment Prue felt a pang of déjà vu - it was as though she was back at Bucklands again dealing with antiques and artifacts.
The three of them were going to see the sights as well as it being an educational trip for Phoebe, who was interested in England’s historic, bloody past. She for one was in a lather for days and couldn’t contain the excitement any longer at the thought of visiting all those haunts. London was seeped in history. Hampton Court Palace rumored to be haunted by several of Henry VIII’s wives. As well as The Tower of London which saw off many a beheading and boasted the ghost of Anne Boleyn, seen haunting the Tower with her head tucked under her arm; and tongue firmly in cheek!
There was also Jack the Ripper and not to mention the seedier side of legal London and those horsehair wigs that lawyers, known as barristers, wore. What were they called again? Periwigs. No wonder lawyers had such a bad reputation Phoebe mused; the animal rights movement hadn’t caught up with them, in more ways than one!
“Are you ready Piper?” shouted Phoebe. “Enough make-up already, we’ll miss our flight!”
Piper came out of the bathroom looking the worse for wear. All that partying at P3 the night before had left her tired and sulky and in a foul mood.
“Can you stop shouting Phoebe. Not everyone can be so cheerful this early! Look at my circles.” She pointed to the dark crevices under her eyes.
“Age is definitely catching up with you girl!”
“Get away,” Piper nagged as she hit Phoebe on the shoulder.
“Aren’t either of you ready yet?” Prue appeared in the doorway.
“I don’t see why we all have to go with you” Piper moaned. “Not this early anyway.”
“Oh come on it’s a great way to see London. An all expenses paid trip. You should be lucky my magazine, 415, forked out so lavishly and gave me a bonus too.” Prue had an assignment in London, England to photograph the Millennium Collection. A great find of artifacts and object Des arts from an archaeological dig in the Middle East. For one fleeting moment Prue felt a pang of déjà vu - it was as though she was back at Bucklands again dealing with antiques and artifacts.
The three of them were going to see the sights as well as it being an educational trip for Phoebe, who was interested in England’s historic, bloody past. She for one was in a lather for days and couldn’t contain the excitement any longer at the thought of visiting all those haunts. London was seeped in history. Hampton Court Palace rumored to be haunted by several of Henry VIII’s wives. As well as The Tower of London which saw off many a beheading and boasted the ghost of Anne Boleyn, seen haunting the Tower with her head tucked under her arm; and tongue firmly in cheek!
There was also Jack the Ripper and not to mention the seedier side of legal London and those horsehair wigs that lawyers, known as barristers, wore. What were they called again? Periwigs. No wonder lawyers had such a bad reputation Phoebe mused; the animal rights movement hadn’t caught up with them, in more ways than one!
Tuesday 21 July 2015
Charmed 'Fan Fiction' - "Wicca Becomes You" Chapter 1
Wrote this Charmed story (the TV show) back in 2001, but it wasn't published, for reasons too long to go into here. So it's not the usual 'fan fiction' as the term has grown to be used these days.
Thought I may as well blog it and let people read it and cringe!! Ha.
Chapter 1
Who was this woman, this mysterious stranger she had dreamt about over and over. Every night whilst attempting to get some shut eye, some peace and quiet, some rest. Instead she had this same recurring vision. Was someone trying to send her a warning? Was this a sign of things to come? The future. Tomorrow.
Whatever.
In a distant far away shore Phoebe awoke with a shudder.
“Boy that was one hell of a nightmare” she said to herself. She had to get up and change her baby blue, baby doll nightdress. Her “dream” had been so intense she’d woken in a stream of sweat. As if the visions weren’t bad enough, she was now getting them in her sleep too. At least Phoebe thought her nights of endless slumber would have been free of such placid, scary dreams. Talk about not giving up the day job.
She recalled every minute detail as though she was having a nightmare in the day. Her visions, most of them at least, were usually quite hazy, abrupt and in fragments. But this was vivid and real. As she drank a glass of ice-cool water she pieced together what she’d seen.
A woman dressed in a black velvet robe was being chased down a foggy, rained-out street by a ghastly apparition of some sort. It resembled a hideous giant monster with dense green eyes and fiery red lips. Phoebe paused for a second. Perhaps this was just her subconscious remembering the unearthly demon she and her sisters had vanquished the other week.
But that woman was so beautiful she couldn’t get her out of her mind. She had brown-flame hair, auburn eyes and a small, dainty crimson heart-shaped mouth. In fact “if she had tickets,” on herself, to use the Aussie term, Phoebe thought, “I’d say she kind of looked like me.”
How could that be? This must be a vision, more than just a vision, a nightmare of someone, of an innocent in trouble; and yes demons did always chase after beautiful people. To mar their souls and steal their wisdom and beauty. They had encountered all sorts in their quest to protect innocents and even themselves too. One had even been Piper’s boyfriend back when Phoebe had just arrived in San Francisco. Now that was unreal and frightening.
London, England. Present day.
The girl awoke with a scream. Tears and sweat rolling down her rouged face. She swept back her long, auburn hair and ran her hand across her forehead. For months now her nights were filled with these “visions”. Nightmares. She had made up her mind this time she was going to act.
“Oh cursed dreams and demons of the dark, damned abominations of witchcraft – why do you torment me once more with your d
“Oh cursed dreams and demons of the dark, damned abominations of witchcraft – why do you torment me once more with your dark forebodings and meaningless prophecies,” she whispered to herself portentously.
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