Recalled to Life
Evil of This Time
2025
"'I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out.'"
Book III; Chapter XV of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
—Adapting the Fantasy—
Zero to sixty in three-point-nine seconds. Cole nearly choked on a piece of muffin when Mel took off. She drove like a stunt driver, both feet on the pedals – careening around tight corners, jumping hills. The wind whipped her long brown hair around her face but didn't diminish the volume of the song blasting from the stereo.
Traffic abruptly appeared on the road she'd turned down. Mel tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Cole was testing her, as always. Maintaining her speed, she swerved in and out, barely avoiding collision after collision. When they unexpectedly reached the Golden Gate Bridge, she slammed on the breaks, twisted the wheel, and pulled the clutch. The smell of burnt rubber filled her nostrils as they spun out. The instant she had control again, she started them off across the bridge, cruising at an easy ninety-five. The adrenaline in the air settled into an infectious buzz.
"Whew," Cole interjected, hand rested on the top of the convertible's windshield. His laughter, like hers, was a little breathless. "You're a lot of fun, Friday. Have I ever told you that?
"I'm the only fun you've got in your whole damned life," she declared cheerfully. "How have you been, by the way? It's been, what, four months? Five?" Truthfully, they both knew she remembered exactly how long he'd been gone, down to the hour. But that didn't mean she had to admit to it out loud.
"I've been busy," Cole shrugged.
"Courageously battling oblivion, precariously balancing light and dark."
"It's been rough, but – " He repeated his shrug. "You know I try not to involve you too much."
"Nope. Just enough so I don't actually know what I'm helping you with." She managed to keep her tone free of bitterness.
He patted her bare knee, letting his hand linger. "Couldn't do it without you."
"Mm. Telling me exactly what I want to hear. Nice job adapting the fantasy."
"Just letting you know you're appreciated." His fingertips trailed lightly up her thigh as he removed his hand. The sensation made her whole body clench. The knowing smirk he didn't even attempt to hide effectively pissed her off.
"Well, thanks. Hey, if you really want to show me how much you care, you can reimburse my parents for all the herbal remedies and Wicca therapy sessions it took to get your friend Mr. Orin out of my nightmares."
No response. His profile was completely fixed. It frustrated her that she was unable tell if she'd actually hit a nerve or if he was manipulating her still.
Sarcasm more delicate now, Mel said, "Don't feel too bad, Cole. Every family needs a black sheep crazy."
Nothing. Her hand hovered over the transmission. She thought maybe some more tricks would relieve the tension, but decided against it with a long sigh. "All right. As beautifully as this car handles, you and I both know bribing me with it isn't necessary. I'd do anything you asked, regardless." She threw off her sunglasses into the wind knowing they'd just disappear and muted the radio.
When he finally spoke, his amiable tone was forced. "What if I were to tell you that I don't want any favors, just the pleasure of your company?"
Mel laughed unkindly. "I would reply with a resounding, 'Bullshit,' and further speculate that you purposefully deprive yourself of the pleasure of my company for various unhealthy reasons, not least of which, I would say, is your remarkable propensity for self-flagellation."
He shifted in his seat, shooting her a glare. "Yes, please, 'Batter my heart, three-person God.'" Harshly, he added, "Are you suggesting I should take over your life? If I'd wanted that, I could've done it easily. Especially when you were a kid."
What was he after? Reassurances? "I appreciate your restraint, Cole. What I'm suggesting is that there is such a thing as compromise. Partnership, even."
"You scratch my itch, I'll scratch yours?"
Thankful that their conversation was building momentum again, she was able to muster a wry sneer. "Whatever you think you know about my 'itches' isn't even the half of it."
He made a soft, appraising sound. "Maybe I should've staged this little visit in the bedroom."
"I have a boyfriend."
"Congratulations, Friday. You've found yourself a Bruce Baldwin, a blond-haired oaf who'll treat you like daddy's special little princess."
"Condescending to play the role of the jealous ex?" She flicked her eyes up and over. "What have I done to deserve this?"
"Plenty. About this Bruce Baldwin – "
"Derek Weis."
"That's the one. In quantifiable terms, how much do you…" He paused for a grin, continuing, "…loathe the abject worthlessness of his neutered existence?"
This time Mel laughed genuinely. "Let me put it to you this way: I'm the leading points scorer for the girl's team; he's barely a starter for the guy's. When we play a game of pickup in his driveway, he doesn't even try. He'll let me win just so he never has to feel the shame of getting his ass beat by a girl. What a gentleman."
"Why do you put up with him?"
"I had to say yes to one of the guys Penny strong-armed into asking me out," she replied, only a little defensively.
"You deserve better."
Mel was willing to take that at face value, but no further. "That much is certainly true, so why don't you stop with the pretending you give a shit about my high school love life right there and cut to the part where you need my help."
"I don't need your help. Your family needs your help."
"Do elaborate."
"Have you noticed your dear cousin Penelope acting unusual lately?"
"Yeah, she's been insanely depressed ever since she found out that Jared Pullman cheated on her. Chalk that up to her cupid blood…" Mel trailed off, noting his expression. "Or not. What do you know?"
"Have you been keeping an eye on your brother's Phoenix witch girlfriend?"
"Wait. Bianca? I stopped. Chris saved her before she had to make her first kill; they're in love. Dad even gave her a position at the School. She can't be evil." Again, his expression stopped her. "Ah, eff me. She's evil."
"Not by choice. Her old coven has been controlling her. She doesn't know it, but that's one of the many useful properties of that birthmark she has on her wrist."
"And the plot unfolds. Someone hired the coven to kill Penny, so they're using evil Bianca to slip her some magical crazy pills in hopes that she'll off herself."
"No. But damned if you don't have an appealingly devious mind. What they're hoping is that she'll become vengeful so that they can send her to her past life as Melinda Warren, mother to young, impressionable Prudence Warren – "
Light dawned. "Where they'll both be burned alive at the stake, only to rise from the ashes, born again as a Phoenix witches, making the entire Warren line Phoenix, adding to the ranks of their rapidly dwindling bloodline a whole gaggle of extremely powerful witches, including, most especially, the Charmed Ones. With that pedigree they sure as hell wouldn't have to make a living as mercenaries anymore."
"You are your mother's daughter. I always considered her the smart one."
"I'm sure she'd be oh so thrilled to hear it." Mel heaved an exasperated sigh. "Well, neither of us wants me to be a Phoenix. Sure, I'd get a power boost, but, if Bianca's any indication, the angst would be suffocating. So, how long do I have to stop this?"
"About two hours."
There went her plans to sleep-in before work.
"Sorry," he said off her aggravated look. "Prophecy came out of nowhere."
"I don't suppose you're going to show me said prophecy? Or is it prophecies?"
"Come on, Friday. Don't you trust me?"
The look on his face was so overtly wicked that Mel gave in and snickered derisively. "Fine, whatever. Consider it taken care of."
The matter settled she was afraid he and the dreamscape he'd created would vanish at any moment. Impulsively, Mel slammed on the breaks and shifted the Porsche into park. Before she could lose her nerve, she unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over in what she hoped was a provocative manner.
"Has this joyride been my reward, or do I get something else for my services?"
In a controlled motion, Cole tucked his sunglasses back into his pocket. He leaned over as well, meeting her wide eyes. Her pulse skipped erratically, unable to settle on a rhythmic beat. Was he actually going to let her get away with this? Maybe eighteen was the milestone he'd been waiting for.
"Melinda, are you sure you want this?" More than his warning tone, the rare use of her given name should have been enough to get her to back down.
Instead, she feigned a devil-may-care shrug and smile. "Why not? It's not like any of this is real." She placed two fingers on the underside of his lightly stubbled chin, giving him ample opportunity to initiate the kiss himself. Cole remained impassive. Naturally, he was going to make this as difficult for her as possible.
Swallowing the nervous tick in her throat, she touched her lips to his. Dating Derek Weis wasn't for nothing – he was practice. Nimbly, Mel used her teeth to coax Cole's mouth open. Exhaling jaggedly, she skimmed her tongue against his. The more she teased him, the stronger his pulse jumped against her fingers.
She knew full well that it had been a virtual eternity since he'd felt desire without the blunt edge of numbness behind it; Mel was perhaps the only person in the world who could give him that feeling back. Giddily, she realized the power she could have over him.
The angle of the kiss abruptly changed. Cole tangled his fingers through her hair, tugging back so he could slant his mouth over hers. Soothing strokes at the nape of her neck timed with the thrust of his tongue lulled away any thoughts of domination. Her fingertips fell to his shoulder, trailed his collarbone down the open neck of his shirt. With each stroke, his tongue pushed deeper and harder. In time, her hips rolled up and back against her seat.
She flattened her palm on his chest, wanting to feel his burning skin against more of her body. The pressure of his hand around the base of her skill had become painful, but Mel couldn't help worsening it by attempting to shift their bodies closer. She needed to be on his lap, feeling the heat from one of his hands spreading from the small of her back and the fingers of his other working beneath her skirt –
It wasn't until she heard the pathetic whimpering groans issuing from the back of her own throat that she had enough sense to register panic.
He was teaching her a lesson.
With all the self-preserving will she could muster, she broke off the kiss. Fixing her blurry eyes on the dashboard, she fought the tremble that looped through her.
"Not a sound," she managed to grit out.
Hating him silently, she waited for a snicker, or a taunt, or – since he seemed to be feeling particularly nasty – a snide comment comparing her to Aunt Phoebe.
None came. Out of her peripheral, Mel caught him hunched over, elbows propped on his thighs, hand pressed to his brow. He flicked his wrist over so he could read his watch. "I think it's time you woke up."
Mel closed her eyes. "In more ways than one, right?"
"I'll be seeing you."
"Don't be a stranger," she told the man who'd raised her in his image.
