But before he and Phoebe could get into a whole “us” discussion, Leo suddenly orbed into the foyer.
“Phoebe!” he cried when he became corporeal. “You're back!”
He swept her up into a bear hug, then shook his head in relief.
“Paige and Piper to the rescue,” Phoebe said, as her sisters came back into the foyer.
“Are . . . things cool with Josh?” Paige asked carefully.
“Totally,” Phoebe said. “And those boys are definitely demon-free now.”
“Yeah, but I'm thinking they might not be the last of them,” Piper said. “All we know about this demon is that it's capable of possessing more than one man.”
“Yeah,” Paige said worriedly. “Which means we'd better find the original demon.”
“Well, maybe Phoebe has some clues,” Leo said. “After all, you went through the demon's time portal.”
Phoebe shuddered as she suddenly recalled the grisly beheading she'd witnessed just before being sucked out of the alternate dimension. Swallowing painfully, she nodded.
“I've got a name and address,” she offered. “Catherine. Ancient Egypt.”
“That's all you got?” Piper said with disappointment. “Phoebe, what were you doing down there?”
“Ever heard of that movie, ‘Witness to the Execution’?” Phoebe countered. She couldn't keep her voice from trembling just a bit.
“Oh,” Piper said softly, putting a hand on Phoebe's shoulder. “I'm sorry, sweetie.”
“It's okay,” Phoebe said. “Let's just get back to the attic and hit the Book of Shadows. I want to see if we've got anything on Catherine.”
A half hour later, Phoebe at last found what she'd been looking for. It was in the slim, non-pagan section of the Book of Shadows.
“Aha!” she cried. “She was Saint Catherine.”
“We're dealing with saints now?” Paige said. She glanced up from her laptop, where she'd been surfing Kiss.com for suspicious-looking characters. Piper was been scrying while Leo and Cole were studying other books on demonology from the Halliwells' library.
“I guess we are,” Phoebe said, “because this story fits what I saw perfectly.”
As her family gathered around her, Phoebe cleared her throat and began to read.
“‘Catherine of Alexandria was a princess living in fourth century, Roman-occupied Egypt,’” she read. She stopped reading and looked at Piper and Paige. “That's exactly where we must have been. We were in a palace in a busy city. I saw some Roman-looking architecture. But also . . . there were pyramids-in-progress right outside the window.”
“Some vacation,” Paige said dryly. “Read on.”
“‘The Roman emperor, Maxentius, demanded Catherine's hand in marriage,’” Phoebe continued. “‘When the pious princess refused him, he attempted to torture her into submission. Among the devices in his arsenal was a spiked wheel, which was forever after called a Catherine Wheel. Finally Maxentius beheaded the princess. From her neck flowed milk, rather than blood. And immediately a chorus of angels came to steal Catherine's body away for a proper burial on Mount Sinai.”
“Harsh!” Paige said. “You saw that, Phoebe?”
“I didn't see the milk,” Phoebe said. “But believe me, I saw enough to connect the dots. Now here's the really scary part. ‘Maxentius, in executing the saint, became doomed. When he died a few years later, he became the ephemeral demon, Lupercalus.”
“Lupercalus?” Leo piped up. “That's ironic. Lupercalia was the ancient name for February fourteen.”
“Sick sense of love, this guy,” Phoebe said, shaking her head.
Paige stood up and drifted over to Phoebe, peering over her shoulder at the Book. Gently she reached out and ran her finger over a drawing of a beautiful, black-haired woman. At the bottom of the page was a picture of a burly man in a Roman tunic. “Maxentius, Emperor of Rome,” was its caption, written in florid, curly handwriting.
And finally, beneath a drawing of a ghostly wolf, was the word, “Lupercalus.”
“Why the wolf?” she wondered out loud.
“Latin,” Cole explained. “Lupo is the root for Lupercalus. Means wolf.”
“Okay, smartie,” Paige shot back with a smile. “Then explain this one: What's an ephemeral demon?”
“An ephemeral demon exists—or doesn't, depending on how you look at it—in the ether,” Cole said. “Some catalyst can make him temporarily corporeal. And then he'll stay that way as long as he's accomplishing his mission.”
“His mission being? . . .” Phoebe wondered.
“Revenge against Catherine,” Piper said suddenly. “Of course. He's taking out his rage on single women, through men that he possesses.”
“The men who date Paige,” Phoebe pointed out.
“What?” Paige gasped. “You think this has something to do with me?”
“Paige, Josh and Stuart's last nondemonic memory is of their dates with you,” Piper said. “Now do you think that's a coincidence?”
“But what does that mean?” Paige said. “Am I possessed?”
Paige spun around in a panic and ran to a warped, cloudy mirror leaning against the attic wall. She stared into her own eyes, trying to detect something beyond her usual brown irises and mascara'd lashes. But she couldn't see a thing either because there was no demon lurking in her head or because tears had sprung to her eyes, clouding her vision.
“Paige,” Leo said, walking over and patting her on the shoulder. “Don't worry. Those guys were clearly possessed and you're clearly not.”
“No,” Cole said brusquely, walking over to Paige with his arms crossed over his chest. “She's probably a conduit.”
“A what-o-it?” Paige said, sniffling a little and leaning her head on Leo's shoulder.
“A conduit,” Cole said. “I knew a few demons in the old days who got around that way. Sneaky devils.”
“Literally,” Piper said. “So, what . . . . our demon is going through Paige, but not hanging around inside of her?”
“That's about the size of it,” Cole said.
“Ew!” Paige screeched. “But how does he get in? How does he get out? I can't take a shower until this is over with!”
Chime.
“Have you ever noticed that the door always rings at the most inopportune times in this house?” Phoebe said.
“Oh, God,” Paige groaned suddenly. “What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty,” Piper said looking at her watch. “Ugh, we've been up all night.”
“That's Max!” Paige screeched. “We made a Sunday brunch date. And now it's Sunday. I completely blanked. Oh, I hate to have to blow him off.”
“Why on earth would you blow him off?” Cole said. “Here's an opportunity! Can someone get the door and ask Max to wait in the conservatory?”
“I will,” Piper said.
“No, wait!” Cole said, his eyes glinting with an idea. “Leo, you get the door. We don't want Max to see Piper or Phoebe. They'll be spying later.”
“Okay, Cole,” Paige said as Leo headed downstairs. “Let's hit pause for just a minute here. What are you cooking up?”
“Simple,” Cole said. “You go out with this Max guy. This is your second date, right? So either he's already been possessed through you and is coming back to eat your heart out, so to speak. Or the demon's going to possess Max on your date this morning. Whatever happens Phoebe and Piper will be there to see it. This could provide us with just the information we need.”
“So you want Piper and Phoebe to come with and spy on us?” Paige said. “Cole, I like this guy. I don't want to risk infecting him with this demon! Ick. It's like I have a disease or something.”
“Ah, remember when we were that naive?” Piper muttered to Phoebe with faux nostalgia. “Back before half our dates turned out to be green and scaly?”
“Or we were turned into baddies ourselves?” Phoebe said warmly. “All of this is just beginning for our Paige.”
“This isn't funny!” Paige
cried.
“No, no, you're right,” Phoebe said, stifling her giggles. “Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I know it feels rotten. But look at it this way: If you don't go out with Max we may never figure out how to exorcise this demon, which would pretty much make you a big old Dating Don't, you know? Better to figure out a way out of this a.s.a.p.”
“And let's not forget the innocents with lives at stake,” Piper said, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I think Paige's social life is as important as anybody's, but it's not exactly life and death.”
Paige went a shade paler than usual, then nodded weakly.
“Okay, okay, I'll do it,” she sighed. “But look at me! I'm a mess. Would it be so wrong to do a magic makeover? It's not personal gain if it's in the name of innocent-saving, is it?”
Phoebe raised her eyebrows at Piper.
“That settles it,” she said. “This girl's definitely a Halliwell. And I just happen to know a clean-up spell that will get us pretty in a jiffy.”
“Why am I not surprised by that?” Piper remarked dryly. “All right, Ms. Jiffy. Charm away.”
chapter
9
Max took Paige to a quiet little restaurant on one of San Francisco's steepest streets. It was a romantic spot called Maison, tucked into the basement of a ramshackle row house. As soon as they walked in, Paige looked around the tiny dining room and sighed with delight—the place looked like her dream apartment. It was furnished in shabby, flea-market finds, with mismatched china and tarnished, silver candlesticks on every table.
And Phoebe's little spell had dressed her perfectly for the place. She was wearing a long, semisheer skirt and a silk, bronze-colored twin set. Very Sunday morning in the city.
Max whispered something to the host when he and Paige arrived. And by the time they sat down at a cozy, corner table, champagne-free bellinis were waiting for them.
Max held his flute of orange juice up and toasted Paige. “I know it's only been a few days, but . . .” and then Max looked down at his plate. “Well, let's just say, you've been on my mind since our last date.”
“Likewise,” Paige said, feeling her cheeks flush. She looked at her chipped plate and wondered where this giddy feeling was coming from. It's so strange, she thought, that all the other guys were such duds and this guy is so . . . perfect. Attraction is so bizarre that way.
As soon as the giddy thought crossed her mind, Paige felt guilt wash over her.
So, of course, what do I do? she asked herself. I subject my new beau to demonic possession. Oh, yeah, average second-date stuff.
Or, she thought darkly, I'm subjecting myself to possession. Maybe Max has already been posessed by Lupercalus.
Paige gazed at her date. He was buttering the stack of toast the waiter had brought for the two of them. Just looking at Max gave Paige a trembly feeling. His skin was so tan, with just the right smattering of laugh lines. His hair was glossy, falling onto his forehead with a combo of polished handsomeness and Hugh Grant floppiness. He was dressed perfectly too in a cool, linen shirt and wonderfully worn jeans.
But still, a demon could make himself as gorgeous as he wanted to, couldn't he? Paige thought nervously. She sighed and broke off a bite of toast of her own. Being a nascent witch gave one such an insecure feeling! She wished she had her sisters' experiences. They could probably pick out a demonic date within five minutes.
Or, Paige thought, shooting a furtive glance across the dining room, maybe not.
Piper and Phoebe had just been seated at a table about fifteen feet away. They looked perfectly breezy—Piper wore capri pants and a peasant blouse and Phoebe was in hip-hugging jeans. They were also making a big show of peeking at Paige over their menus and seemed to be giggling to themselves.
Wonderful, Paige thought, biting into an asparagus spear ruefully. I guess I'm on my own here. I wonder what the heck those two are laughing about?
“Okay, okay,” Phoebe was saying, as the waiter brought her a dainty cup of coffee. “My turn. My most embarrassing date ever was . . . that guy who took me to a Bon Jovi concert and played air guitar throughout the entire thing. I was crawling under my seat.”
“Literally,” Piper gasped. “I remember you coming home with gum in your hair.”
“Ew! Of course that was preferable to a goodnight kiss with that guy,” Phoebe said.
“And let's not forget all the boyfriends who turned out to be demons,” Piper said, taking a pensive slurp of her tea. “Kind of brings that ‘not knowing who to trust’ doctrine to a whole new level, doesn't it?”
“Of course demon-dating worked out for me,” Phoebe said with a sly grin. “But I wouldn't wish it on Paige. Poor thing. What's going on over there?”
Piper peeked over her menu, then rolled her eyes.
“All's gaga on the western side of Maison,” she said. “I've got to admit . . . Max doesn't have that demony look about him. But at least we all got a nice brunch out of this stake-out.”
Piper fished a warm and oozy chocolate croissant out of the bread basket that she and Phoebe had ordered. Then she shook her head.
“Wow. Can you even remember what it's like to be on a first date?” she asked, taking a huge bite of the croissant.
“The excitement? The swooning?” Phoebe said. “The wondering through an entire conversation if there's spinach in your teeth?”
Then she rolled her eyes.
“Oh, yeah,” she said dryly. “I miss it desperately.”
I wonder if there's spinach in my teeth, Paige was thinking as she polished off the last of her eggs Florentine. God, I hope not.
Between her first bite of breakfast and her last, Paige had decided she adored Max Wolf. And she'd decided there was no way a dude like this could be a demon.
“I know you're probably thinking I'm an egomaniac,” he'd said a few minutes ago. “Aren't all politicians that way?”
“Well . . .” Paige had said. “They don't start out that way but something about the system corrupts, doesn't it seem?”
“I know,” Max said with a sigh. “But I can't get certain things I've seen out of my head, Paige. I'm a public-aid lawyer. Every day I see this cycle of poverty that seems impossible to break.”
“But we have to try,” Paige and Max said at the same time. Paige laughed incredulously. Then she stared into Max's sweet, brown eyes.
“This is the first time I've ever met someone who cares as much about these issues as I do,” she breathed.
Max stared back at her with such intensity, Paige felt a dizzy spell wash over her.
Is this that love-at-first-sight, bonked-on-the-head feeling? she wondered. Gee, I never thought it would be so . . . literal.
Finally Paige had to drag her eyes off of Max's face and put a hand to her forehead.
“Whew,” she whispered, “that was a little intense.”
“I felt it too,” Max breathed. “Part of me wishes I could steal you away. Or at least force you to forsake all others.”
Paige giggled at his old-fashioned language and Max rolled his eyes in embarrassment.
“But I know I can't ask you to do that,” he said. “I'm sure you're the belle of the Kiss.com ball.”
“Oh . . . not really,” Paige said, thinking guiltily of her packed Palm Pilot. Then she shot a glance in Phoebe's direction. What had Phoebe told her? Be elusive and a little aloof?
“I could cancel my other dates, Max,” she blurted.
Whoops, Paige thought as the words shot out of her mouth. That wasn't exactly aloof. But who cares? Max and I clearly have one of those electric connections. Do we really have to play games?
“Paige, I'm flattered,” Max said. “But . . . you shouldn't.”
“Oh . . .” Paige said. Humiliation began to curdle the hollandaise in her stomach.
“Not . . . yet,” Max said shyly. “I don't want you to rush to commit to me. You should play the field. Be really sure. And when you're ready, I'll be here.”
Paige nodded slowly, trying to figure out whe
ther Max was the most gallant guy on earth, or was subtly dissing her.
But before she could say anything else, their waiter brought Max back the check and his credit card. Max scanned the bill, then signed the dotted line with a fountain pen he'd pulled out of his shirt pocket. Paige squinted at Max's upside-down handwriting. Something about the signature looked familiar. The letters slanted and curled around each other in antique-looking flourishes. It was beautiful. . . .
Suddenly Paige gasped.
She stared at the fountain pen in Max's manicured fingers. And she flashed back to the attic.
The Book of Shadows page she'd been studying that morning filled her mind like a vision. And what she saw were the words, Maxentius. Lupercalus.
Then Paige's mind flashed on Cole. “Lupo is the root for Lupercalus,” he'd said that morning in the attic. “Means wolf.”
Paige could feel her heart beating in loud, panicky thuds. Her mind was racing.
She lifted her eyes from Max's fountain pen to his smooth, untroubled face and his piercing, amber eyes. His hypnotizing eyes.
Maxentius. Lupercalus, Paige thought, feeling a sheen of sweat break out on her upper lip.
Max.
Wolf.
Paige's hands went clammy. Instinctively she looked around the restaurant for an escape route. But she was sitting in the corner. She'd have to get around Max to dash out of the restaurant.
And besides, if she dined and dashed, the demon would know that she was onto him.
Paige shook her head. As much as the proof was right before her eyes, in ink on the brunch bill, it was still hard to wrap her brain around the painful fact that she'd been duped. Hugely duped.
And if she didn't play her cards right, she was doomed.
So Paige put on her game face. The same one she used when trying to placate violent husbands or angry judges in family court. She added a dash of flirtation, and batted her eyelashes subtly.
“Oh, I'm sure about you already, Max,” she said.
Yeah, sure that you're the biggest jerk I've ever dated, she thought.
“But, you're probably right,” she continued. “We should take things slowly. After all, a connection like ours doesn't come along that often.”
Date with Death Page 9
