FUTURE PERFECT
CHAPTER 8
There was something to be said for progress. Frozen dinners in the twenty-fourth century were much more appetizing than they had been in the twenty-first. Whereas TV-dinners used to be too bland, too salty or too mushy to Cole's taste, these chicken noodles were quite delicious. He pricked a pale strip of dough onto his fork and popped it in his mouth before he lifted the bowl.
He chewed another noodle as he made his way from the kitchenette back to the conference room, which he secretly had dubbed their war-room. Phoebe was arguing with Leo. The other witches and the young whitelighter were nowhere in sight. Cole guessed they had beaten a hasty retreat and were hiding out until Phoebe's temper cooled.
"Leo, I need the Book!"
"No, you don't." Leo was shaking his head. "You can make up the spells you need."
"Much as I hate to admit it," Cole said around a mouthful of pasta, "Leo is right. Phoebe, your strength has always been your talent to improvise. You don't need the Book of Shadows for that. Noodle?" He offered her the fork and was rewarded with a dark scowl. He shrugged and took another bite.
"Phoebe, the Book is gone. Ten years ago a major earthquake hit San Francisco. It was the one expected for so long, the Big One. Despite vast improvements in design and construction since you were alive, it killed hundreds. The manor went up in flames; the fire killed Paulina's parents and destroyed the Book. To this day, we have no idea how Paulina managed to make it out alive. The neighbors found her crying on the sidewalk."
Phoebe's shoulders sagged. "I don't know if I can do this, Leo. I've been dead for a long time."
"There may be a way to recover the Book." Cole placed the empty bowl on the table and ran a hand through his hair. "Remember when I went back in time on All Hallow's Eve?"
"Yes. You were trying to wipe out the entire Warren line. How could I forget? But it's a good idea." Phoebe's face lit up and she gave him the first remotely friendly look. "You can take the Book from the manor before it burns down."
"You'd have to come with me," Cole continued.
Her eyes narrowed with fresh suspicion and the scowl returned. "Oh? And why is that? Is this offer to help another of your ploys to get me alone and convince me of your goodness?" She wiggled two fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks around the last word.
Anger rushed through Cole. "Dammit, Phoebe! Will you give it a rest? I realized three hundred years ago that you would never forgive me, would never again love me like I love you! This isn't about you or me. This is about the future of magic. All magic." He took a deep breath. "I need you to come with me because I can no longer touch the Book. I'm evil, remember?"
Phoebe blinked. "Oh. Right." She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry. It's been a weird day."
Cole's tone softened. "I know. It's not every day you come back from the dead. But please, believe me, my intentions are good. Can't we bury the hatchet, at least until this is over? I didn't come here to fight with you."
She laid her head back and met his eyes. "Okay. I guess I should believe you. Truce?" She held out her hand.
Cole took it and smiled. "Truce," he repeated.
* * *
"Woah." Phoebe swayed on her feet, grateful for Cole's supporting hand on her elbow. "That was--blurring." She swallowed. "I think I prefer orbing. Or even shimmering. Much easier on the stomach." She and Cole had just appeared onto the sidewalk in front of the Halliwell manor. Although, she supposed it should be called the Winslow manor now.
"Sorry," Cole said. "I lost the ability to shimmer a long time ago."
"I know," Phoebe muttered absently. She took a step away from Cole and squinted up at the manor. The night was dark and overcast, so she didn't have the light of the moon or stars to see by. The glare from the street lamps was enough to make her realize the house looked different. It took her a few minutes to figure out the change. The wood walls no longer were the familiar faded red. Instead, they were painted what looked like a pale yellow.
"It's different." She chewed her lip while she studied the house. "I like it." She turned on her heels and looked up at Cole. "Can you get us to the attic?"
"Is that where you think they hid the Book?" He looked dubious. "They don't even know they're a witchy family, remember."
"Uh huh. The attic is where most people keep things that they no longer use but haven't thrown out. It's the most likely place to find the Book of Shadows."
"Okay. The attic it is, then." Cole held out his hand for Phoebe to take. As soon as she did, he transported them to the top floor of the house.
Clouds of dust rose up when their arrival disturbed the thick layer, which coated the floor boards and everything else in the attic.
"Uhg!" Phoebe pinched her nose and suppressed a sneeze. "Someone should do some cleaning here!" She looked around. There was barely space to move. It appeared as if each generation of Halliwells and Wyatts and Winslows had used the attic to store every piece of furniture they no longer used.
"Where do we start?" Cole stared at the jumble of furniture and boxes, a dismayed expression on his face. "This could take forever. I don't know how much time we have, I didn't take us back far before the quake."
Phoebe considered the clutter for a long moment. "You start over there." She pointed to the corner where a tall oak cabinet rested against the wall. "I'll begin here."
Cole had to clamber over a couch with a faded flower pattern and a crooked wicker chair to reach the closet. Phoebe wove her way past boxes and sidetables. It was strange, being back in the attic after all this time. The room was so familiar, yet the rubble so unknown. But then her eye fell on something she recognized. Gram's old chest!
She pushed aside an upholstered easy chair with a hole in the seat where the springs peeked out. A rusty birdcage blocked her path and she set it on the chair. She dropped to her knees in front of the wood box. A grayish, sticky layer of dust coated its cover. Phoebe reached for the lock and lifted the lid cautiously. Something caught in her throat as she recognized the worn leather cover of the Book of Shadows. It looked exactly as she remembered it.
Almost reverently, she lifted the heavy book from the chest. As she placed the Book on the floor and looked in the chest again, a tremor ran through the house, causing the heavy beams in the ceiling to groan. Phoebe didn't notice. She blinked back unbidden tears when she recognized the faded picture that lay beneath the Book. It had stood on her night table beside her bed for quite a while. A younger, happier Cole smiled down on her image that beamed up at him. A wool hat covered her head. She remembered the day that photo was taken as if it were yesterday. She had been happy then, happier than she could remember having ever been.
"Any luck?" Cole sounded worried. She glanced over her shoulder. He was ruffling through a stack of papers in the oak cabinet.
"Yes. I found it." She quickly snatched up the picture and stuffed it in her pocket. "Here." She held up the Book for Cole to see.
"Good." He dropped the papers and began scrambling back past the sofa. "We should go."
As if to prove him right, another tremor shook the house, stronger than before. The windows rattled and the ceiling squeaked. With a loud crack one of the beams let go and crashed onto the floor between them in a cloud of dust and splinters.
"Phoebe! We've got to go!"
Phoebe ducked beneath the beam, the Book of Shadows tightly tucked under her arm.
"Come on." Cole grabbed her other arm and dragged her after him. "We've got to get out of the house!" he yelled at her over the ruckus of shattering glass and wailing support beams. "Wait for the quake to be over. I can't get us back to the exact right time and place with all this shaking going on."
She nodded and raced after him down the stairs. The house was shaking constantly and although Phoebe had experienced earthquakes before, she quickly realized this one was serious.
They reached the landing and turned the corner to find the flight of stairs down from the second floor. Phoebe froze. In front of her was a little girl wearing a pink nightdress. She clutched a stuffed bear against her chest. Frightened tears glimmered in big, dark eyes that grew even wider when she saw the two strangers in her house.
"Go!" Cole shouted. He broke her spell and shoved Phoebe past the girl to the stairs.
From one of the bedrooms drifted voices. "Paulina? Howard, go get her! Oh God!" Something big fell over with a heavy thud and a woman screamed.
Phoebe turned back. "Cole. We can't leave her."
Cole scooped up the little girl, who started crying harder, and again shoved Phoebe toward the stairs. Relieved that the girl was safe, Phoebe dashed down the steps. The ground rippled beneath her feet as she ran out the front door and away from the house. Cole followed on her heels.
Even before they reached the sidewalk, a loud thunderclap bellowed through the night. An invisible hand pushed Phoebe off her feet and onto her knees. With an angry roar, flames exploded out of the manor, their fiery tongues licking at the black sky. Her mouth fell open in shock. Wide-eyed, Phoebe watched her ancestral home go up in flames.
Cole gently set the little girl on the sidewalk beside them. The earth stilled, the occasional tremor all that remained of the quake. The night, however, was anything but still. Flames crackled while distant explosions rent the skies. Sirens howled and everywhere people cried for help.
"We have to go," Cole said softly, reminding Phoebe they weren't supposed to be here.
Phoebe glanced down at the little girl. She wanted to take her with them, even though she knew she could not.
"She'll be okay," Cole assured her, reading her mind. "Remember what Leo said? The neighbors found her on the sidewalk."
"Yes." Phoebe swallowed the tears that clogged her throat. "Yes."
She took Cole's hand, feeling for a moment the Book resist his touch. Then the street disappeared in a blur, and so did the little girl with the fat tears trickling down her cheeks. Tears that were tinted orange with the flames that consumed the manor.
TBC
CHAPTER 8
There was something to be said for progress. Frozen dinners in the twenty-fourth century were much more appetizing than they had been in the twenty-first. Whereas TV-dinners used to be too bland, too salty or too mushy to Cole's taste, these chicken noodles were quite delicious. He pricked a pale strip of dough onto his fork and popped it in his mouth before he lifted the bowl.
He chewed another noodle as he made his way from the kitchenette back to the conference room, which he secretly had dubbed their war-room. Phoebe was arguing with Leo. The other witches and the young whitelighter were nowhere in sight. Cole guessed they had beaten a hasty retreat and were hiding out until Phoebe's temper cooled.
"Leo, I need the Book!"
"No, you don't." Leo was shaking his head. "You can make up the spells you need."
"Much as I hate to admit it," Cole said around a mouthful of pasta, "Leo is right. Phoebe, your strength has always been your talent to improvise. You don't need the Book of Shadows for that. Noodle?" He offered her the fork and was rewarded with a dark scowl. He shrugged and took another bite.
"Phoebe, the Book is gone. Ten years ago a major earthquake hit San Francisco. It was the one expected for so long, the Big One. Despite vast improvements in design and construction since you were alive, it killed hundreds. The manor went up in flames; the fire killed Paulina's parents and destroyed the Book. To this day, we have no idea how Paulina managed to make it out alive. The neighbors found her crying on the sidewalk."
Phoebe's shoulders sagged. "I don't know if I can do this, Leo. I've been dead for a long time."
"There may be a way to recover the Book." Cole placed the empty bowl on the table and ran a hand through his hair. "Remember when I went back in time on All Hallow's Eve?"
"Yes. You were trying to wipe out the entire Warren line. How could I forget? But it's a good idea." Phoebe's face lit up and she gave him the first remotely friendly look. "You can take the Book from the manor before it burns down."
"You'd have to come with me," Cole continued.
Her eyes narrowed with fresh suspicion and the scowl returned. "Oh? And why is that? Is this offer to help another of your ploys to get me alone and convince me of your goodness?" She wiggled two fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks around the last word.
Anger rushed through Cole. "Dammit, Phoebe! Will you give it a rest? I realized three hundred years ago that you would never forgive me, would never again love me like I love you! This isn't about you or me. This is about the future of magic. All magic." He took a deep breath. "I need you to come with me because I can no longer touch the Book. I'm evil, remember?"
Phoebe blinked. "Oh. Right." She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry. It's been a weird day."
Cole's tone softened. "I know. It's not every day you come back from the dead. But please, believe me, my intentions are good. Can't we bury the hatchet, at least until this is over? I didn't come here to fight with you."
She laid her head back and met his eyes. "Okay. I guess I should believe you. Truce?" She held out her hand.
Cole took it and smiled. "Truce," he repeated.
* * *
"Woah." Phoebe swayed on her feet, grateful for Cole's supporting hand on her elbow. "That was--blurring." She swallowed. "I think I prefer orbing. Or even shimmering. Much easier on the stomach." She and Cole had just appeared onto the sidewalk in front of the Halliwell manor. Although, she supposed it should be called the Winslow manor now.
"Sorry," Cole said. "I lost the ability to shimmer a long time ago."
"I know," Phoebe muttered absently. She took a step away from Cole and squinted up at the manor. The night was dark and overcast, so she didn't have the light of the moon or stars to see by. The glare from the street lamps was enough to make her realize the house looked different. It took her a few minutes to figure out the change. The wood walls no longer were the familiar faded red. Instead, they were painted what looked like a pale yellow.
"It's different." She chewed her lip while she studied the house. "I like it." She turned on her heels and looked up at Cole. "Can you get us to the attic?"
"Is that where you think they hid the Book?" He looked dubious. "They don't even know they're a witchy family, remember."
"Uh huh. The attic is where most people keep things that they no longer use but haven't thrown out. It's the most likely place to find the Book of Shadows."
"Okay. The attic it is, then." Cole held out his hand for Phoebe to take. As soon as she did, he transported them to the top floor of the house.
Clouds of dust rose up when their arrival disturbed the thick layer, which coated the floor boards and everything else in the attic.
"Uhg!" Phoebe pinched her nose and suppressed a sneeze. "Someone should do some cleaning here!" She looked around. There was barely space to move. It appeared as if each generation of Halliwells and Wyatts and Winslows had used the attic to store every piece of furniture they no longer used.
"Where do we start?" Cole stared at the jumble of furniture and boxes, a dismayed expression on his face. "This could take forever. I don't know how much time we have, I didn't take us back far before the quake."
Phoebe considered the clutter for a long moment. "You start over there." She pointed to the corner where a tall oak cabinet rested against the wall. "I'll begin here."
Cole had to clamber over a couch with a faded flower pattern and a crooked wicker chair to reach the closet. Phoebe wove her way past boxes and sidetables. It was strange, being back in the attic after all this time. The room was so familiar, yet the rubble so unknown. But then her eye fell on something she recognized. Gram's old chest!
She pushed aside an upholstered easy chair with a hole in the seat where the springs peeked out. A rusty birdcage blocked her path and she set it on the chair. She dropped to her knees in front of the wood box. A grayish, sticky layer of dust coated its cover. Phoebe reached for the lock and lifted the lid cautiously. Something caught in her throat as she recognized the worn leather cover of the Book of Shadows. It looked exactly as she remembered it.
Almost reverently, she lifted the heavy book from the chest. As she placed the Book on the floor and looked in the chest again, a tremor ran through the house, causing the heavy beams in the ceiling to groan. Phoebe didn't notice. She blinked back unbidden tears when she recognized the faded picture that lay beneath the Book. It had stood on her night table beside her bed for quite a while. A younger, happier Cole smiled down on her image that beamed up at him. A wool hat covered her head. She remembered the day that photo was taken as if it were yesterday. She had been happy then, happier than she could remember having ever been.
"Any luck?" Cole sounded worried. She glanced over her shoulder. He was ruffling through a stack of papers in the oak cabinet.
"Yes. I found it." She quickly snatched up the picture and stuffed it in her pocket. "Here." She held up the Book for Cole to see.
"Good." He dropped the papers and began scrambling back past the sofa. "We should go."
As if to prove him right, another tremor shook the house, stronger than before. The windows rattled and the ceiling squeaked. With a loud crack one of the beams let go and crashed onto the floor between them in a cloud of dust and splinters.
"Phoebe! We've got to go!"
Phoebe ducked beneath the beam, the Book of Shadows tightly tucked under her arm.
"Come on." Cole grabbed her other arm and dragged her after him. "We've got to get out of the house!" he yelled at her over the ruckus of shattering glass and wailing support beams. "Wait for the quake to be over. I can't get us back to the exact right time and place with all this shaking going on."
She nodded and raced after him down the stairs. The house was shaking constantly and although Phoebe had experienced earthquakes before, she quickly realized this one was serious.
They reached the landing and turned the corner to find the flight of stairs down from the second floor. Phoebe froze. In front of her was a little girl wearing a pink nightdress. She clutched a stuffed bear against her chest. Frightened tears glimmered in big, dark eyes that grew even wider when she saw the two strangers in her house.
"Go!" Cole shouted. He broke her spell and shoved Phoebe past the girl to the stairs.
From one of the bedrooms drifted voices. "Paulina? Howard, go get her! Oh God!" Something big fell over with a heavy thud and a woman screamed.
Phoebe turned back. "Cole. We can't leave her."
Cole scooped up the little girl, who started crying harder, and again shoved Phoebe toward the stairs. Relieved that the girl was safe, Phoebe dashed down the steps. The ground rippled beneath her feet as she ran out the front door and away from the house. Cole followed on her heels.
Even before they reached the sidewalk, a loud thunderclap bellowed through the night. An invisible hand pushed Phoebe off her feet and onto her knees. With an angry roar, flames exploded out of the manor, their fiery tongues licking at the black sky. Her mouth fell open in shock. Wide-eyed, Phoebe watched her ancestral home go up in flames.
Cole gently set the little girl on the sidewalk beside them. The earth stilled, the occasional tremor all that remained of the quake. The night, however, was anything but still. Flames crackled while distant explosions rent the skies. Sirens howled and everywhere people cried for help.
"We have to go," Cole said softly, reminding Phoebe they weren't supposed to be here.
Phoebe glanced down at the little girl. She wanted to take her with them, even though she knew she could not.
"She'll be okay," Cole assured her, reading her mind. "Remember what Leo said? The neighbors found her on the sidewalk."
"Yes." Phoebe swallowed the tears that clogged her throat. "Yes."
She took Cole's hand, feeling for a moment the Book resist his touch. Then the street disappeared in a blur, and so did the little girl with the fat tears trickling down her cheeks. Tears that were tinted orange with the flames that consumed the manor.
TBC