Charmed: The Gypsy Enchantment

by Carla Jablonski

  She slung an arm over Prue’s shoulder. “Only you’re not going to like it, sister dear.”

  Prue tugged at her bright orange fright wig, trying to keep it on her head. She was wearing white makeup with a bright red nose and a large mustache. All three Halliwells were sporting facial hair. They also wore very baggy clothes, trying to look as boyish as possible. They had remembered that Masha was the only female clown in the company. Good thing they did—they didn’t want to blow their cover immediately.

  “I am not a happy camper,” Prue grumbled. Not only was she wearing a ridiculous getup, she and her sisters had arrived at the carnival at the crack of dawn. Make that before the crack of dawn, she thought, gazing at the dark sky. A tiny little pink glow appeared just at the horizon line through the trees in Golden Gate Park.

  “We want to try to catch the clowns without their makeup on,” Piper reminded Prue. “We have a chance only if we catch them just as they’re waking up.”

  “Oh, goody,” Prue said. “So we get to play clown Peeping Toms.”

  “At least they won’t know it’s us spying on them,” Phoebe said.

  “Actually, I think I’m more worried about what I might see, than I am about them seeing me,” Piper said.

  They parked the car far from the parking lot so that they wouldn’t draw any attention to themselves. As they crept along the outskirts of the trailers that formed Clown Alley, Prue stopped her sisters. “Wait,” she whispered. She yanked her sisters into the bushes.

  A figure slipped through the trees ahead of them. He was wearing Ivan’s trademark tight black pants and boots.

  He must have heard a branch crack or somehow become aware of their presence. He turned—and Prue found herself gazing at Ivan’s face.

  Luckily, he didn’t seem to spot the Halliwells.

  “Which one is he?” Phoebe whispered.

  “I’ll find out,” Prue said. “You follow him to see what trailer he goes into. No matter what, don’t lose him.”

  “Got it.” Phoebe nodded. She and Piper sneaked out of the bushes as quickly and as quietly as they could.

  Prue shut her eyes. She concentrated really hard, picturing herself in Ivan’s temporary quarters since losing his trailer in the fire. Mr. Amalfi had given Ivan permission to sleep in an equipment trailer on the other side of the carnival.

  Gathering her energy, she astral projected out of her body. A moment later she gazed down at Ivan’s sleeping form. He lay on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by electrical equipment.

  There are two of them! Prue thought with glee. I was right—this Ivan is a sweet and hunky human. Not an evil bone in his body.

  And what a body.

  She couldn’t help herself. She reached out and pulled the blanket back up over his bare chest. He must have kicked the covers off in his sleep. He murmured and rolled over onto his side.

  “Better get out of here before I get into trouble,” she told herself.

  Again she concentrated and brought herself back into her body. She felt a little woozy. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to her ability to astral project. She loved it, but it was really disconcerting to travel in and out of her body. Even more so, since that body was currently dressed in a clown outfit.

  Piper and Phoebe were nowhere in sight. Prue figured they were still tracking the Ivan look-alike. She crept out of the bushes and scurried along the trailers of Clown Alley, trying to figure out where her sisters had gone.

  A door on a trailer popped open. A tall, bald man with a large, pointy nose stepped out and stretched. A moment later a plump woman with short black hair followed him.

  That must be Kaboodle and Masha’s trailer, Prue realized.

  Uh-oh. Busted. “Hello, there,” Kaboodle said. “You’re up early.”

  Prue didn’t want her voice to give her away as a girl, so she just waved and nodded. She picked up her pace to pass his trailer as quickly as possible.

  Kaboodle looked at Prue carefully. “That’s a new costume,” he commented. “Working up a new character?”

  Prue nodded.

  His eyebrows knit together. “You should really run this by the directors and me before changing an act.”

  Prue held up her hands and waved them back and forth, indicating he had the wrong idea.

  “Oh, he probably just wants to get it right before he shows it to you,” Masha said, coming to Prue’s defense.

  Prue put one finger on her nose and pointed the other at Masha and nodded.

  “You see?” Masha said. “Stop being such a dictator.”

  Prue was very grateful that neither Masha nor Kaboodle found it strange that she was communicating in mime. One side benefit of the weirdness of clowns, she figured.

  “The quality of the act is very important to me,” Kaboodle protested.

  Masha sniffed. “Being important is what’s important to you,” she said. “We all know you’re in charge. Give the boy his creative freedom.” She turned and stepped back into the trailer.

  “That’s unfair,” Kaboodle complained. He followed his wife inside and slammed the door.

  Prue felt badly that she had caused a fight between the couple, but she didn’t have time to think about it just then. She and her sisters had some evil Gypsies to stop—before it was too late.

  What would the threefold power of the Romany ruby do for them? she wondered. Was this part of some kind of Gypsy power struggle? Ivan had mentioned that there were sometimes warring factions among the Gypsy families. Was grabbing the ruby a grab for control over all the families?

  Even if it was, would it stop there? Did they have larger, more universal plans? Obviously these people were ruthless.

  With that discomforting thought in mind, Prue picked up her pace. Only she wasn’t sure where to look.

  Luckily she didn’t have to wonder—or wander—for long. Two clowns with familiar outfits were heading toward her.

  “Ivan was asleep!” Prue burst out.

  “Well, someone’s awfully tickled about Ivan’s innocence,” Piper noted.

  “Didn’t I tell you he wasn’t evil?” Prue said.

  “I think Prue’s just really pleased to be right,” Phoebe teased. “She just hates it when she’s wrong.”

  “And when would that be?” Prue said with a wicked grin.

  “Stop before we hit you with a pie in the face,” Piper quipped.

  “At least we’re appropriately dressed,” Phoebe said. “Okay, enough about how wonderful it is that your guy isn’t the one we’re after.”

  “We know who it is, now,” Piper said. “That new clown, Sacha. We followed him straight to his trailer.”

  “And guess who showed up just as the sun began to rise,” Phoebe added.

  Prue crossed her arms over her chest. “Olga.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.

  “Affirmative,” Phoebe said. “They are definitely in cahoots.”

  “Relatives, actually. Ivan, I mean, Sacha,” Piper corrected herself, “called her Mama Olga.”

  “Pretty freaky that two different women could give birth to identical twins,” Prue commented.

  “Since we became witches, I’d say we excelled in all things freaky,” Phoebe said. “We can worry about the hows of all this later. Now let’s figure out the whats.”

  “As in what do we do now,” Prue agreed.

  “And the answer is . . . ?” Piper asked.

  Frustrated, Prue raked her hand through her hair, until she realized she was tugging on orange yarn. “I think we should tell Ivan everything. He may know some Gypsy lore about this that may help.”

  “As you said,” Phoebe pointed out, “he’s got to believe in magic now.”

  “Besides, there’s bound to be another attempt on Ivan’s life,” Prue said. “Nothing else they’ve done has worked—not the zombies, not the thefts.”

  Piper shuddered. “They aren’t the types to take no for an answer.”

  “So let’s get over to Ivan’s,” Prue
said. She glanced down at herself. “I just wish he didn’t have to see me like this.”

  “As long as we’re here, we keep these disguises,” Phoebe ordered. “Remember, Olga and Sacha are probably after us, too.”

  “I know. You’re right.” Prue struck a pose. “Do I look sexy like this?”

  Piper and Phoebe glanced at each other. “No,” they said in unison.

  “You might qualify as cute, maybe, if you’re into Raggedy Ann or Andy,” Piper said.

  Prue led the way to Ivan’s trailer on the other side of the lot. The sun had completely risen. She hadn’t realized how early the carnival kicked into gear. Many employees were already heading for the food trailer, and the crew were already at the tent, checking the rigging.

  “Wow. I just changed my mind about wanting to run off with the circus,” Phoebe commented. “These people get up way too early to suit me.”

  As the sisters crossed the midway, booth operators were setting up all around them. Everyone ignored them. Prue was pleased at how well the disguises were working.

  “Glad to see you’re early for the brush-up rehearsal,” a voice called out as they passed the tent.

  “Is he talking to us?” Piper whispered to her sisters.

  “Keep going, and keep your head down,” Prue ordered.

  Several clowns appeared in front of them carrying props. “Hi,” one of them said. “If you’re looking for breakfast, no such luck.”

  “Kaboodle fixed it so that the cook wouldn’t serve clowns during the rehearsal,” the short one complained. He tossed several juggling balls into the air.

  “Give up on sneaking away,” the first one said in a low voice. “Kaboodle is two feet behind you. Man, he’s such a dictator.”

  By now all five of the clowns in front of them were juggling different objects. Whispering a silent apology, Prue used her telekinesis to send all the props flying.

  “Run!” she cried. She banged right into a clown riding on a unicycle. He crashed into Kaboodle.

  “That should keep them busy for a few minutes,” she panted as she ran alongside her sisters.

  “It will be tough to explain how it happened,” Phoebe commented.

  “By the time they get inside the tent, they’ll have worked it into their new act,” Prue assured her.

  They made it all the way to Ivan’s temporary quarters without another incident. Being a clown really did make a person anonymous, Prue noted.

  Prue knocked on the trailer door. “Come in,” came a groggy voice.

  Prue, Phoebe, and Piper stepped inside. The trailer was packed with lighting equipment, cables, and tools. Ivan was sitting up, in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his visitors.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Ivan, it’s me,” Prue said. “Prue.”

  Ivan’s big brown eyes traveled up and down her body. She really wished she hadn’t had to hide the fact she was a woman when she’d created her disguise. She could have at least come up with a sexy clown costume.

  Ivan burst out laughing. “Have you all become infected with the circus virus? We always get a few in every town we play.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” Prue said. “This is actually serious.” She glanced down at herself. “In spite of our appearances.”

  Prue explained everything they knew: about the Romany ruby. About the zombie. The attempts on Ivan’s violin and on his life. And about the magic of his violin.

  That was the hardest part to tell. Harder than the fact that there were people out to kill him. Or that Prue and her sisters were witches. Throughout all the lengthy, disturbing story, filled with upsetting revelations and her sisters’ interruptions, Ivan’s face remained open and understanding.

  But now his brown eyes darkened. He gazed deep into Prue’s. “Do you mean it is all the magic of the violin?” he asked softly. Prue’s heart ached to see the pain and embarrassment on his face. “I—I am nothing?”

  She took his hand in hers. “Don’t say that. You play beautifully.”

  Ivan stood and turned away from them. “Perhaps I don’t play at all. Perhaps it is all the violin. And my skill with the animals—it is simply some kind of trick.”

  “Nothing about magic is simple,” Phoebe said. “Believe us—we’ve found out the hard way.”

  “And I’ve seen you with the animals when you’re not playing. You have a gift with them,” Prue assured him.

  Ivan ducked his head, his shoulders slumped. “It could still be a magic spell. You have said you don’t really know how the violin works.”

  “Look, I know you feel bad and everything,” Phoebe cut in. “But we’ve got a big problem to solve fast.”

  Ivan took a deep breath and turned back to face them. “You know, I never believed in the old stories or in the superstitions. But I know what I saw with my own eyes last night.” He rubbed his backside. “And what I felt when I landed in those bushes.”

  “Sorry about that,” Prue said.

  He smiled at her sadly. “You did the right thing. You were protecting your sisters. You had no reason to think I wasn’t the terrible man in the vision.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Phoebe piped up, “Prue was always on your side. Except for maybe that one minute in the woods.”

  Ivan took Prue’s hand in both of his. “Thank you,” he said.

  Prue wished with all her heart that she could take away the pain that she knew this knowledge caused him. She hated that she was the one to have shattered the belief he had in his own talent. He had so much startling information to deal with and no time in which to process any of it. Even his heritage was now in question. His parents denied the legends, yet he was caught up right in the middle of one of the most dangerous.

  Ivan nodded with resolve and turned from Prue to face Phoebe. “You’re right,” he said, strength and conviction returning to his deep voice. “We have a big problem to solve.”

  “Can you think of anything from the legends that might help us?” Piper asked. “About the Loriathian or the Romany ruby?”

  “Or why you would have a twin?” Phoebe added.

  Ivan leaned against a tall metal shelving unit and shook his head.

  “What exactly is your relationship to Olga?” Prue asked.

  “None that I know of, but we do speak a similar dialect. She may be a distant cousin or something.”

  “Think, Ivan,” Prue pressed. “We really need some clues.”

  His face clouded. “You know, there is a superstition among Gypsies that twin boys must be raised apart.”

  “That could explain it,” Phoebe said. “Right there.”

  Confusion played across Ivan’s features. “But I can’t imagine my parents following the old ways.”

  “Maybe having to give away a baby boy is what turned them against the superstitions and legends,” Prue suggested gently. “It would certainly make me question my family’s traditions.”

  Ivan nodded slowly. “You may be right. And it may explain how Olga knew about the violin in the first place.”

  “So what do we do now?” Prue looked at her sisters and then back at Ivan.

  What she saw made her gasp.

  Ivan was shimmering. The outlines of his body were growing indistinct. Swirls of energy danced around him.

  “Ivan!” she cried.

  A roaring sound filled the room, as if a great tearing in the fabric of the universe were taking place. A wind whipped up, sending objects flying around the trailer.

  “What’s happening?” Piper shrieked as she ducked a light stand.

  “I don’t know!” Prue shouted back.

  “Ivan’s breaking up!” Phoebe screamed.

  “If he’s going somewhere,” Prue cried, “so am I!”

  Prue concentrated, astral projected herself into the energy swirling around Ivan, and gripped his arm.

  One moment later she and Ivan were adrift in what Prue could only imagine was the astral
plane.

  Home of the Loriathian.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Eerie lights pulsed all around Prue. She felt as if she was floating, but she wasn’t moving. Everything shimmered. In fact, if she weren’t so frightened, the sight would be quite beautiful—as if she were living inside starlight. There didn’t seem to be any up, down, left, or right. No landscape.

  Nothing but Ivan, Sacha, and Olga.

  And the Loriathian.

  The enormous and hideous creature lay just in front of a glowing area. Its twelve eyes each burned a different color, none of them pretty. Its razor-sharp teeth hung over its lips, and its forked tongue darted in and out. It was aware of their presence, and on alert, but was clearly waiting and watching to see what they would do.

  “What are you doing here?” Olga screamed at Prue and Ivan. Only her mouth never moved. On the astral plane, Prue guessed, they were all telepathic.

  “We’re going to stop you,” Prue thought back.

  Olga laughed a nasty, evil laugh. It sent strange waves rippling through the astral plane. Prue realized if she was going to use any of her powers in the astral plane, she’d better start adjusting, fast.

  She moved an arm, just to test the waters. Glowing energy particles parted around her limb.

  “Why?” Ivan pleaded. “Just tell me that.” He looked over at Sacha. “And who are you? Why do we look the same?”

  “Meet your brother, Ivan,” Olga said.

  Ivan floated backward, as if he’d been hit by her words. Prue reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. He reached up and clutched it.

  She sent a sense of strength and resolve into the hand Ivan held, hoping it would help him. Her hand grew warmer in his, and in a few moments she could feel his grip become less panicked and much more powerful.

  “I suppose it would be good for you to know the truth,” Olga said to Ivan. “You may be of use.”

  Her long hair floated around her head, weightless in the astral plane. As she tossed her head, shimmering waves rippled away from her. Prue studied every move the woman made, trying to understand the energy surrounding them all.

  “As is our family’s way,” Olga explained to Ivan, “you twin boys were separated at birth. Sacha came to live with me, a distant relative. It broke your foolish mother’s heart.”