“I don’t know,” Piper said, growing more tense.
Zeus clapped his hands on his knees.
“Your trial is this,” he announced. “At dark they come without being summoned. By light they are lost, without being stolen.”
Piper felt a moment of panic. She knew this scenario—it pervaded Greek mythology. A mortal asking a favor of the gods would be asked an impossible riddle. If the mortal was clever enough to come up with the answer, his wish would be granted. Now it was Piper’s turn. Her entire family depended upon her cleverness.
She closed her eyes and thought about Zeus’s cryptic words. Dark, they come. Light, they go. Dark . . . night . . . sky . . . Piper’s eyes flew open.
“The stars!” she exclaimed. “You’ve described the stars in the night sky!”
After Piper blurted her answer, Zeus sat still in his seat. There was a long, long pause. And then he clapped his hands.
“Your sister is free!” he announced. “As long as no morsel of food has passed her lips.”
“Oh, thank you,” Piper said, jumping to her feet. “Will you spirit her out of Hades or—”
“Oh, I cannot invade my brother’s domain,” Zeus said, holding up his hands. “You must go and find your sister and bring her back. All I can promise is that the creatures of Hades will not impede her escape.”
“Oh . . .” Piper said, dejected. Part of her wondered why she’d gone to the trouble of consulting Zeus, but she tried to stifle the thought, knowing the Olympians could read her mind.
Too late.
“My dear, I realize this doesn’t solve all your problems,” Zeus said, glowering at Piper. “But believe me, without the protection of my decree, your sister would never make it out of Hades. If you can get to her before Nikos brings her to the marriage altar, and before she eats a bite of food, she will be protected by my power on her journey from Hades.”
“I understand,” Piper said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Good-bye,” Zeus said abruptly, returning to his cushion.
“May I ask one more question,” Piper said. “What about our models? Are they under your protection as well?”
“For them, my dear,” Zeus said dryly, “you are on your own. Only the Power of Three is my concern.”
With that, Zeus clapped his hands and a quartet of attendants leaped forward to escort Piper out of the room. Before she had a chance to utter another word, she was squelched out of the chamber through yet another portal and sent on her journey back to earth.
“Well, I guess this is a case of take-what-you-can-get,” Piper muttered as she floated back through the brilliantly lit chamber. “Hang in there, Phoebs. I’m coming!”
CHAPTER
9
After Piper shimmered away, Prue looked around the kitchen, feeling more helpless than she’d ever felt. Prue had always been the go-getter in the family, the leader who got things done. But now, she was at home holding down the fort while her sisters fought battles in “points beyond.” There wasn’t even any housework she could do because Piper had cleaned up so thoroughly after making the potion the night before. The kitchen was sparkling. Prue walked into the living room and took a peek behind the velvet curtain into the sunroom. She curled her lip at the sleeping models, who looked as rosy-cheeked and beautiful as ever.
“How do they do it?” Prue wondered, glancing in the wall mirror at her own puffy, sleepy eyes and tangled hair. “You’d think twenty-four hours of sleep would take its toll.”
She was sick of looking at the models, especially the apparition of that creep Nikos. Prue was just about to yank the curtain shut again when she spotted the old Victorian camera, which stood just as she’d left it after the previous disastrous photo shoot.
“Hmm, might as well see what ended up on the film plate,” Prue murmured dully. It was hard to imagine how important the 415 cover had seemed to her just yesterday. Now she could barely bring herself to care.
“All it takes is a little kidnapping to put things in perspective,” Prue said dryly. She grabbed the metal canister in which she’d stored the glass negative plate and ambled down to her darkroom in the basement. “Anyway, processing this film will keep me busy.”
In the hazy light of the darkroom’s red bulb Prue prepared her chemicals and then transferred the image from the delicate glass plate to photographic paper. Then she gingerly started to process the photograph.
As the photo began to bleed to life in the developing fluid, Prue held her breath. Finally, the balance of light and color was perfect and she transferred the photo to a tray of fixative solution. She added a little sepia toner to the final wash to give the picture an antique finish, and finally the picture was complete.
Prue snatched the undulating square of paper out of the bath and flicked on the overhead light. Squinting in the glare, she inspected the image.
Her eyes flew first to Nikos.
“This photo is bound to show his true colors,” Prue muttered, cringing to think at how badly the gorgeous guy had duped them all.
Gazing at the curly-haired man with his arms draped over her sister’s shoulders, Prue had to admit it. There was no way to tell that Nikos was the prince of Hades. In fact, he looked cute.
Prue scowled and turned her attention to the rest of the photo. She held it at a distance and gazed at it as a whole. Then she gave a little gasp. Her image was perfect. Every one of the eight models, even Piper, looked serene and beautiful. The light flooding the sunroom was natural and golden. The composition was balanced, yet completely original.
This is incredible! Prue thought, slapping a hand on her forehead. The first and only shot. And somehow I came up with this? Maybe that camera is magic in more ways that one!
Shaking her head in amazement, Prue climbed the stairs. She had no more work to do in the darkroom, so she might as well find something else to do upstairs. After taking another peek at the models— still gorgeous and healthy—and patrolling the house for mythological creatures, she looked at her watch.
“It’s only nine!” she wailed. “Sunset is hours away. I’m gonna go mad.”
“I’m gonna go mad if I have to spend one more night here,” Phoebe muttered through gritted teeth. She was slumped on an overstuffed couch in her windowless room, bored stiff and hopping mad. All morning the snake maidens had been slithering in, wielding trays of food. But each time, Phoebe barred their path or chased them out of the room. The last one had left just a few minutes earlier.
“Stay away from me!” Phoebe had shouted, grabbing a tray of lamb chops and mashed potatoes out of the maiden’s hand and throwing it to the hallway floor. The woman had narrowed her eyes and hissed at her, then skittered swiftly away.
Phoebe clutched her growling stomach. She was actually dying to eat something. But the thought of those snake maidens preparing her food, their forked tongues flickering over it, nauseated her. She shivered and rubbed her arms.
“Oh, Prue, Piper,” she whispered, “Where are you?”
Scrrrrrrrrraaape.
Phoebe whirled around. The boulder at her doorway was moving aside again. How do they do that? she thought with frustration. She got ready to scream at yet another snake maiden invading her personal space. But instead she gasped.
Standing in the doorway was a young woman— no forked tongue, no black, reptilian eyes. In fact, but for the goofy Goth costume that matched Phoebe’s own, this girl could have been a classmate of hers at college. She held a basket of food—fruit, cheeses, a dish of caviar, a baguette, some pâté. A classic French picnic.
“Who are you?” Phoebe demanded.
The woman stepped inside the room and the boulder slid into place behind her, locking them in together.
“Hi,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m Jessica.”
Phoebe didn’t return the handshake. Instead, she sat up on the couch and gazed at the woman in confusion.
“Are you a prisoner, too?” Phoeb
e asked.
Jessica threw her head back and laughed, her long dark curls bouncing.
“No way,” she said, sliding seductively into a chair near Phoebe. She placed the basket at her feet and began laying the food on the coffee table between them. “I choose to live in Hades.”
“Oh, really?” Phoebe said. Then a stricken look crossed her face and she lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh, are you . . . are you dead?”
Jessica laughed again and shook her head.
“Okay, let me get this straight,” Phoebe said, crossing her arms, “you didn’t get here by being buried with one obol, or whatever, and you weren’t snatched. You’re just here on vacation? What, you couldn’t get a hotel room in the Caribbean?”
“Phoebe, you’re fighting it,” Jessica said, evading Phoebe’s questions. “You’re here now. Embrace it.”
“I don’t follow you,” Phoebe said. Suddenly, she spotted a ring on Jessica’s finger almost exactly like hers, with emeralds instead of rubies. Stacked against it was a diamond-studded wedding band.
“Wait a minute,” Phoebe blurted. “Are you—”
“Married to the mob?” Jessica giggled. “Yup. Nikos’s older brother, Philip. He’s just as gorgeous as Nikos. Wait till you meet him.”
“What, at my bridal shower?” Phoebe scoffed sarcastically. She was appalled to see Jessica nodding enthusiastically.
“We’re all so excited that you’ve arrived,” the young bride said. “Me and my sisters-in-law. There are eleven of us. Nikos is the youngest, the last to marry.”
“Oh my God,” Phoebe breathed. “So you’re telling me you were all kidnapped to become brides, just like me?”
“That’s such an ugly word,” Jessica said, spreading a little caviar on a cracker and biting into it with a luxurious smile. “Mmmm. Want some?”
She held a spoonful of the glistening caviar out to Phoebe, who was eyeing the gourmet food hungrily. But she shook her head. She had to focus. This woman had clearly been brainwashed or something. She didn’t want to succumb to the same spell.
“Please,” Phoebe said. “Tell me what happened to you.”
“I’ve been married to Philip for one wonderful year now,” Jessica said.
“No,” Phoebe said urgently, “I mean, how did you come to be Philip’s wife?”
“I embraced it,” Jessica said dreamily. “Phoebe, you have no idea . . . you don’t know how fun it will be.”
“Fun?” Phoebe gasped.
“If you embrace it,” Jessica said, nibbling on some pâté, “it’s like one long party.”
“What’s ‘it’?” Phoebe sputtered. “What do you mean?”
“Mmmm, this pâté!” Jessica exclaimed, her eyes wide. “Phoebe, you’ve got to try it. Have you ever had pâté?”
“Please, my sister is a chef,” Phoebe spat. “I’ve had plenty of pâté.”
“I take it you don’t like the food the maidens have been bringing you?” Jessica said. She leaned forward and giggled again. “Between you and me—they kind of creep me out, too! That’s why I prepared this little picnic for us myself.”
Jessica dragged a strawberry through a silver dish of whipped cream and took a bite.
“Mmmm,” she said. “So yummy. You’ve got to try one.”
“I think you’d better leave my room,” Phoebe said coldly.
Jessica cast her eyes down, looking hurt. “I thought we could be friends,” she said. “It would make your transition easier, you know.”
“There isn’t going to be any transition, Jessica!” Phoebe yelled. “Leave! Now!”
Jessica glared at Phoebe and tossed her strawberry stem over her shoulder with a snotty scowl.
“Suit yourself,” she said, flouncing toward the door. The boulder magically slid aside. As she prepared to step outside, Jessica turned and glared at Phoebe. “But you’d better eat something. You’ve got a long few days ahead of you. You know, wedding preparations and all.”
“Out!” Phoebe screamed. Jessica yelped and hurried away. Then the boulder rolled back, sealing Phoebe’s chamber closed.
“Ugh!” Phoebe growled, flopping back down on the couch. “Talk about in-laws from hell!”
She tried for about the zillionth time to wrench the enormous engagement ring off her finger, but it remained tightly in place. She almost screamed with frustration. She couldn’t understand what Jessica could like about Hades, about being a captive bride with nothing to do but lie around all day, eating gourmet treats.
Gourmet treats which seemed to be taunting Phoebe. For all the food that Jessica had eaten, the coffee table was still groaning. In fact, it was laden with Phoebe’s favorites. Caviar, strawberries, chocolate . . . the feast couldn’t look more succulent.
Another hunger pang wrenched Phoebe’s stomach. She eyed the doorway warily. She believed Jessica when she’d told her the slimy snake maidens hadn’t touched this food. And it certainly smelled good. Phoebe licked her lips and scanned the spread hungrily. Then she grabbed the caviar spoon.
But as soon as she touched it, a tremor racked her body and an image—one of her premonitions— spilled into her mind. She saw Jessica! Jessica crying and wailing and beating on a boulder door, just like hers. And then . . . the young woman was sitting in a bed, a four-poster bed, looking white and wan. Someone was feeding her morsels of food. She chewed listlessly, her eyes vacant and shadowed. And then another vision popped into Phoebe’s head. Jessica was dancing in a parlor with another glossy-haired young woman. A cluster of gorgeous men with piercing blue eyes glanced at them from the periphery, stifling yawns.
Phoebe lurched out of her dream state with a gasp. The caviar spoon fell from her hand and clattered onto the stone floor.
As usual, the premonition was cloaked in mystery. All she could be sure of was that the food Jessica had eaten had appeared to transform her from a sullen, desperate prisoner, much like Phoebe herself, into a happy-go-lucky party girl.
Phoebe clutched her throat and stared at the feast. All day long everybody here had been urging her to eat, parading trays of tempting treats before her. Something about this food was dangerous—she was sure of it.
Wailing with anger and hunger, Phoebe slapped at the silver dish with the back of her hand. She watched it fly across the room, spraying the wall with sweet, snowy whipped cream. The dish clattered to the floor as Phoebe flounced onto the bed, burying her head in her pillow.
“Now, this really is my worst nightmare,” she whispered. “I never thought I’d see the day when I, Phoebe Halliwell, master of the pig-out, snacker extraordinaire, would go on a hunger strike.”
Piper had made her way back through the series of chambers—the opalescent room with the mesmerizing lights, the water-filled chamber, the wispy, cottony nest. She’d been sucked upward through the water-slide tunnel, and now she was back in the mercurylike antechamber.
She was also back in her silver bodysuit, which meant her watch was gone, gone to wherever the rest of her clothes had disappeared to. Piper floated idly in the bubble, wondering how long she’d been in Mount Olympus.
She gazed around her, still enraptured by her swirly, silver surroundings. Mount Olympus is more magical and more otherworldly than anything I could have imagined. I can’t believe I actually saw it.
Then she frowned.
“I just hope my day here was worth it,” she whispered to herself. “I hope we can get to Phoebe in time. Hey, speaking of which . . . ’’
Piper looked around her excitedly. The light in the antechamber was changing. When she’d entered, the chamber had been bright and shimmery. Now it was darkening, and the bottom of the bubble was glowing orange.
“This must be sunset!” Piper exclaimed excitedly. She couldn’t believe the day had gone by so quickly. She must have entered a kind of time warp when she came to Mount Olympus. She held herself still and closed her eyes, getting ready to make the journey back to earth. Any minute now, she thought, Prue will say the incantation and zap me back
home.
Prue plodded down the stairs of Halliwell Manor and glanced at the grandfather clock. Six o’clock. She had at least another hour until sunset. She sighed. She’d already organized her negatives, dusted the entire house, taken a long, refreshing bath, and vanquished one more demon from Hades— another pesky Gorgon! Pretty soon, boredom was going to reduce her to starting her Christmas cards, five months early.
“Well, that’s something to do,” she muttered as the doorbell chimed. “Get rid of whoever’s at the door.”
Prue smoothed the old tank top and shorts she’d thrown on and opened the front door.
“Mitchell!” she gasped.
“Hi, Prue,” Mitchell said, offering her an armful of creamy pink tulips. “I hope you don’t mind my dropping in like this. I just . . . well, I had to see you again. You’re all I’ve thought about since I dropped you off last night. I know you’re busy, but I thought I could offer you a little break?”
“Um, well . . . ’’ Prue said, swiping a hand through her hair. Not only was she in a totally awkward position here, but she looked a mess. This was so going to blow it with Mitchell.
“At least let me come in and help you put these in some water,” Mitchell said, raising his eyebrows at Prue.
“Oh, of course,” Prue stuttered. “I’m sorry. Come on in.”
Peeking into the living room to make sure the sunroom curtain was closed, Prue motioned Mitchell into the kitchen. She pulled out a vase and ran some water into it.
“Do you have any pennies?” Mitchell asked.
“What?” Prue blurted, looking at Mitchell as if he was crazy.
“Pennies,” Mitchell repeated. “You put pennies in the water and they make the tulips open up.”
“Okay, I’m not even going to ask you where you learned that,” Prue said, laughing and reaching for the jar on the desk where she and her sisters always tossed their change.
“I told you, it’s an occupational hazard,” Mitchell said. “With every story, you pick up weird little bits of trivia. This I learned covering the Chelsea flower market in New York.”
Soul of the Bride Page 10
