"A WEDDING IN FOUR ACTS" by RFK

ACT II - Part 1

When he and his demonic savior materialized in the middle of an expensively furnished living room, Nick released a gust of breath. He glanced around, both impressed and apprehensive by his surroundings and asked, "Where are we?"

Dark brown eyes gave him a cold stare. "You will find out," he said in an Italian accent. Then he cried out, "Hello? Padronessa? Leonardo? We're here!"

A beautiful, dark-haired woman with familiar sherry-brown eyes descended the curved staircase. And aquamarine robe barely hid a statuesque figure that any woman would envy. Nick realized that she bore a strong resemblance to his former partner-in-crime, Portia Della Scalla. Same delicate features, same towering height and curvaceous figure; and same eyes. Only this woman wore her luxuriant hair in a severe chignon. She also possessed a patrician air that Portia had lacked. Behind her, followed his new defense attorney - Leonard Mollari. Nick closed his eyes and heaved a despairing sigh.

"So," the woman said in a cool voice, "this is the Streghone who killed my sister."

Fear gripped every nerve in Nick's body. "Oh. Oh no! No, Signorina! I didn't kill anyone!"

One dark brow formed an arch. "Oh?"

"I mean . . ." Nick sighed. "Yes, I did kill someone. But it was a man, not who you think."

The woman took a step forward. "Exactly whom am I referring to?"

Nick hesitated. "Uh, Portia Della Scalla? She's a . . ."

"A succubus. I know." The woman stepped closer. "So am I. Portia was my sister." Cold eyes bored into Nick's. "If you did not kill my sister, who did?"

Nervously, Nick continued, "Um, mind you, I wasn't present when your sister was killed. I was being arrested at the time."

"Enough!" Portia's sister swept past Nick and the demon guarding him. She settled upon a nearby sofa in a regal manner. "Sit down! I want you to tell me everything."

Nick waited for the minion to release him, before he eased into an empty chair near the sofa. Bumping his foot against a nearby table's leg. He darted uneasy glances at his hostess and her minions.

"Alessandro," the succubus said to Nick's rescuer, "get a glass of wine for Signor Marcano. The Rosso Villa Monticelli." While Alessandro headed for the liquor cabinet, Nick's hostess returned her gaze toward him. "Now, let us start from the beginning. First, my name . . . my human name is Claudia Della Scalla. I am Portia's older sister. As Leonardo must have told you, a seer had informed us that you were the one who had summoned my sister. The question is . . . why?"

Aware of the panic rising within him, Nick took a deep breath. He then told Signorina Della Scalla everything - his feelings toward Barbara Bowen, her engagement to Bruce McNeill and his reason for summoning the late and unlamented Portia. He also revealed the events that led to Portia's death. "Like I said," he continued, "I wasn't there when she was killed. But before I was sent off to jail, I found out that Bruce killed her. He's the witch I wanted her to . . . well, you know . . ."

"Yes. Kill," Claudia declared bluntly. "So, some ridiculous little witch had killed my sister. A Wiccan." She gave Nick a hard stare. "Unless, you happened to be lying to me. To save your skin."

Nick drained the last of his wine. "Oh no! I'm telling you the truth! You can use a spell or something to find out. As for Bruce . . . well, he's a very powerful witch. And so is the rest of his family."

"I will simply kill this entire family. I'm sure that my coven will be able to deal with th. . ."

Exasperated by the succubus' arrogance, Nick bluntly interrupted her. "Your sister believed the same thing and ended up getting killed! Besides . . . Bruce should be getting married this weekend. To Barbara. If you go after the McNeills, you might end up hurting her. And there is one more thing."

"What?" Claudia impatiently demanded.

Nick continued, "Belthazor." He noticed the ominous look that flared in Mollari's eyes. "The half-demon, Belthazor. He's a very close friend of the family. And he's very powerful."

"He is telling the truth, Signorina," Mollari added. "I have heard of him. He was one of the Source's top assassins of the Wiccan Underworld."

The Streghone continued, "Belthazor also became the Source for a while, until the Charmed Ones killed him."

"The Charmed Ones?" Claudia frowned. "I have heard of them. Like the Cavalli family, only Wiccan?"

Nick nodded. "Yes. The youngest witch works at Barbara's shop and is a close friend of Bruce's sister. Anyway, after Belthazor was killed, he returned from the dead more powerful than ever. He's even more powerful than their Source. But not as powerful as Dis and Umbria, who are gods."

Claudia's sherry-brown eyes widened in surprise. "I see." She paused momentarily, while the other three stared at her. "I see that I may have to approach this with more subtlety." Her eyes bored into Nick's. "You say that you had promised my sister with a Soma plant, when you asked her to kill this witch for you?"

Once more, Nick nodded. "Yes, Signorina. The plant is inside the McNeills' greenhouse, at their home. It was given to Barbara by an old friend of hers, some three weeks ago."

"How clever of my sister," Claudia murmured. "She almost had her hands on a Soma plant . . . one that would make her a god. I wonder if she would have told me about it." Her eyes flashed at Nick. "And this Barbara . . . do you want her?"

"Well . . . yes. But she would never . . ."

The succubus dismissed his last words with a wave of her hand. "We'll deal with that later. This Signor McNeill . . . you say that he is getting married?"

Nick added, "This Saturday. "Why?"

Her eyes glittering maliciously, she responded with a slow smile. "Because, I believe we will be attending a wedding, this weekend. And hopefully, I will have in my hands, a plant that will make me a goddess." She suddenly became businesslike. "Now, I want you to tell me everything about the McNeills, their acquaintances and whom you believe will be at the wedding."

* * * *

Andre and Cecile strolled along Chestnut Street, enjoying the early morning crowd that rushed past them and the shops along the street. His stomach growling from a lack of breakfast, Andre demanded that they stopped at a local coffee shop called Peet's Coffee and Tea. The pair entered and each ordered a cup of coffee and a pastry.

"Okay Cecile," Andre said after they settled around an available table, "is there a reason why you had me forgo a nice big breakfast with Cole and drag me out of the building?"

Cecile paused momentarily before she made her announcement. "I had a vision."

The cup in Andre's hand froze just an inch away from his lips. "Say that again?"

Her eyes focused on her boyfriend's, Cecile repeated herself. "I had a vision. A very bad one." She paused. "I met Olivia's new friend, last night. What's his name? Paul Something."

"Margolin," Andre corrected. "Cole told me about him. I heard that he and Livy may be more than just friends."

Shaking her head, Cecile replied, "God, I hope not."

"Meaning?" When Cecile failed to answer, Andre added, "C'mon girl! What could be so wrong about this vision? Is something gonna happen to this Margolin character?"

Cecile hesitated. "No . . . not him. But I think may be responsible. The vision came to me when I shook his hand."

Andre took a sip of his coffee. "Look, why don't you just show me. Telepathically."

"Here?" Cecile glanced around the coffee shop.

"Why not? Or we can go to Olivia's apartment."

Cecile cried out, "No!" Her outburst drew stares from the other customers. "Not there. She hasn't left, yet. And neither has Cole. That's why I wanted to leave. I couldn't wait to tell you."

In other words, Cecile's vision had something to do with both Cole and Olivia. Andre frowned. "Show me. Right now."

"Okay." Giving the coffee shop another glance, Cecile ordered Andre to lean forward and close his eyes. She muttered a phrase in the Fon language over and over again. A minute later, the vision struck.

Andre saw Cole allow Olivia and a strange man inside the penthouse. The stranger, whom he surmised must be Paul Margolin, stood by wearing a smug expression, while Cole and Olivia engaged in some kind of argument. Then Olivia began to chant and a heptagon within a circle materialized around Cole's feet. Each side of the heptagon shot bolts of light at Cole, causing the half-demon to scream. The red-haired witch continued her chant until Cole's body disintegrated into a burst of light.

The moment the vision ended, Andre gasped out loud, drawing more stares. Breathing heavily, he looked at Cecile in disbelief. "Jesus! I can't . . . Did I just see . . .?" He leaned forward and whispered, "Did I just see Olivia kill Cole?"

Cecile nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's impossible. Paige once told me about this sorcerer had Cole's powers, last fall. Someone named Barbas. She and her sisters weren't able to kill him with the Power of Three. They had to return the powers back to Cole, first."

"So, how would Olivia be able . . .?" Andre paused. "If the Power of Three couldn't kill some guy with Cole's powers, how would Olivia be able to kill Cole?"

A grim Cecile replied, "I don't know. Maybe Olivia will find a way. You know, she once had a theory on how to kill the Source, but Leo didn't take it seriously. I'm worried about why she would kill Cole in the first place. And why would I get a vision like that shaking Paul Margolin's hand?"

Andre stared at his girlfriend with uneasy eyes. "Are you gonna tell her? Tell Livy?"

"Tell her what, Andre? That she's gonna kill Cole? And that her present boyfriend might have something to do with it?" Olivia rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding?"

"Listen cherie, you're gonna have to tell, sooner or later."

Cecile took a sip of her hot chocolate. "I'd rather do it, later. Maybe after I talk to Mama and Livy's parents about it."

A heavy sigh left Andre's mouth. "Okay. It's your call. Man! I should have known something was gonna happen during this trip. I only hope that matters don't get any worse."

* * * *

Stunned by the news they had just received, Olivia and her partner, Darryl Morris, sat inside Captain McPherson's office, staring at the man with shocked eyes. Darryl became the first to find his voice. "Excuse me Captain," he said, "but you could repeat what you just said?"

The burly police captain viewed his lieutenant with sympathetic eyes. He sighed. Heavily. "I said that Nick Marcano has escaped from the County lockup at the Hall of Justice, last night. He simply . . . disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Olivia leaned forward. "How?"

McPherson continued, "We believe that a guard helped him." He glanced at the report on his desk. "According to one guard named Timothy Hamilton, another guard named Ben Jenoff had told him that one Keith Hardy had called in sick, and a temp named Reyes showed up. Only Hardy never called in sick. At least, according to Hamilton. He stopped by the cafeteria, while Hamilton reported for duty. Jenoff became suspicious and went to investigate."

"So it was this Jenoff who discovered that Marcano had escaped?" Darryl asked.

The captain shook his head. "No, it was Hamilton. He found Marcano missing and . . . Jenoff's body outside the cell. Burnt to a crisp. How, no one knows."

Olivia muttered under breath, "Oh great!"

"What was that, Inspector McNeill?" McPherson demanded.

"Nothing sir," Olivia responded morosely.

The captain nodded. "By the way, Hardy's body was also found." He paused dramatically. "Inside a closet, not far from the cafeteria. Also burnt. Now, how the perpetrator managed to achieve this without setting the whole damn building on fire is beyond me."

Darryl asked, "Exactly who is this guard? This Reyes?"

"No one knows," McPherson curtly replied. "He doesn't exist. At least not with the County Sheriff's Department." The police captain heaved a sigh. "This Reyes is probably someone who is mighty interested in Marcano. There is a possibility behind this escape. Marcano's accomplice in the DeWolfe murder is still alive."

Both Olivia and Darryl exchanged uneasy glances. They both knew better. "Uh, you mean this Della Scalla woman?" Darryl asked hesitantly.

McPherson nodded. "We need to find Marcano. Fast. This escape . . . it's a real embarrassment not only to the County Sheriff's Department, but to SFPD, as well."

"Um, does this mean . . .?" Olivia began. However, she immediately closed her mouth under McPherson's direct stare.

"Does this mean . . . what?"

Olivia's face grew hot with embarrassment. She shook her head. "I . . . there's a wedding in the family, this weekend. My older brother. Also, we have a few out-of-state guests. I was thinking if I could take part of today and tomorrow . . ."

McPherson's reply was curt. "No, you may not take some time off. I want both you and Morris working on this case, full time. At least until you're off duty. I'm sure that your brother would appreciate your efforts. Understand?"

A sigh left Olivia's mouth before she answered, "Yes sir." Shit!

"Dismissed."

The two partners stood up and left McPherson's office. Silently. Upon reaching their desks, Darryl finally broke the silence. "Well, I guess we better tell Bruce and Barbara the news."

"Along with Deborah Mann, Aunt Carla and Jason," Olivia added morosely. "Nick picked one hell of a time to escape. Two days before Bruce's wedding."

Sympathy filled Darryl's dark eyes. "Something tells me that Marcano had no choice in the timing." When Olivia reached for her telephone, he added, "Giving Bruce a call?"

"Yeah, I might as well. I'm going to ask him to meet with us at Ostera, so we can break the news to him and Barbara at the same time. They're not going to like this."

Something like a cross between a guffaw and a grunt escaped Darryl's mouth. "Huh. That's the understatement of the year."

* * * *

Two pairs of eyes - one blue and the other blue-gray - stared at the two police officers with disbelief. "Escaped? Nick Marcano has escaped?" Barbara said in a high-pitched voice.

It was lunchtime. Olivia and Darryl stood inside Ostera's storeroom, facing both the store's owner and her fiancé. Darryl nodded. "Yeah. Last night. He . . . uh, he disappeared from his cell. Along with the guard who helped him."

Olivia added, "Who might be a demon."

Barbara looked away, distress marring her beautiful face. Bruce sighed. Long and hard. Of all the days for this to happen, he thought. He said out loud in a testy voice, "That's just great. Nick decides to escape just three days before my wedding."

Both Olivia and Darryl exchanged uneasy glances. "I don't think he had planned his escape," she added. "It's obvious that someone helped him. Remember the guard?"

"What about him?" Barbara demanded.

Olivia continued, "Well, this guard . . . might be associated with Portia Della Scalla. Or maybe even her sister."

Anxiety flitted within Bruce's chest. Memories of the succubus filled his mind. "Oh shit!"

Darryl frowned. "That . . . uh, she had a sister?"

"Yeah. Remember what Cole's old friend had told us?" Olivia replied. "He said . . ."

"Yes, thank you for reminding us!" Barbara curtly interrupted. "I was there, remember? I remember what that demon had told us about Miss Della Scalla's sister. God!" She walked away from the others, her body trembling. "This is great! Bruce and I are supposed to be married the day after tomorrow, only we have Nick Marcano and maybe a vengeful succubus to worry about. I just knew something would happen to screw up everything!"

Bruce walked over to his fiancé and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Barbara, honey . . . Look, don't worry. I'm sure that nothing will happen before the wedding. Maybe Nick has already left San Francisco." He glanced at the two inspectors. "Has he?"

Darryl shook his head. "I doubt it. Look, Olivia and I have to get going. We have to break the news to a few others."

Olivia added, "Yeah, like the BAY-MIRROR." She sighed. "And Deborah Mann. I really don't look forward to her reaction."

Bruce nodded. "We understand. I'll see you two later, okay?" Without bothering to look at his sister and her partner, he gently forced Barbara to face him, and enveloped her into his arms.

* * * *

ACT II - Part 2

"Debo . . ." Cole paused, while he listened to his client ramble on. "Yeah, Deb . . . Yes, I realize this must be disturbing for you." The voice on the other end of the telephone continued. "Uh, yeah. Look, Deborah . . . No! No, I don't think that will accomplish anything. It's obvious . . . Yeah, but didn't you just say that the police believe he had an accomplice?" He sighed, while Deborah Mann ranted and raved about the San Francisco Police and the County Sherriff's Department. "Look Deborah, suing them is not going to accomplish anything. Just give them a little time and I'm sure they'll catch Marcano."

Deborah Mann responded in a wavering voice, "Are you sure, Cole? What if . . . what if that monster decides to come after me?"

"I'm sure that he won't," Cole said in his most reassuring voice. "If he wanted to, he would have came after you before he was caught."

A long sigh filled the telephone's earpiece. "I guess you're right. But if the police doesn't capture that bastard by the following Monday," Cole's client said in a voice that suddenly hardened with resolve, "I'm suing their ass!"

"Of course, Deborah! I understand. Look, why don't you get some rest? Okay?"

A pause followed before she finally answered in a defeated voice, "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just this news . . ."

"I understand," Cole said gently. Then, "Bye Deborah. I'll talk to you, later."

"Good-bye Cole," Deborah replied. "And thanks." She hung up.

Cole hung up and heaved a large sigh. For the second time this week, he had to stop a client from making a big mistake. If Deborah Mann had gone ahead with her lawsuit, the circumstances surrounding Nick Marcano's escape would have made matters . . . difficult. For him, and especially for the McNeill family. According to Deborah, Darryl Morris had informed her that the police believed that Portia Della Scalla may have been responsible for the escape. If demonic forces were behind it, Cole surmised that the succubus' sister might be in town. And the idea of facing another succubus filled him with dread. He still harbored vague memories of Portia taking away his control through seductive promises, kisses, a pair of hypnotic sherry-brown eyes and a few other magical means. After being manipulated by Raynor, the Seer, the Source's essence, the Siren, Barbas and Portia, Cole hated the idea of facing someone else capable of assuming control over him on that level.

He needed a drink. Badly. Only Cole desired a cup of coffee. Just as he was about to buzz his assistant to fetch him a cup, her voice blasted from the intercom box. "Mr. Turner," she announced, "Ms. Altman would like to see you."

"Show her in," Cole replied. "And Eleanor, could you get me a cup of coffee? Milk and two sugars."

Seconds later, a tall, dark-haired woman with gray eyes and dressed in an expensive tailored suit, entered Cole's office. "Good afternoon, Mr. Turner," she greeted gaily. Veronica Altman happened to be one of Cole's fellow attorneys, who worked also worked in Jackman, Carter and Kline's Corporate Division.

"Veronica," Cole politely replied. "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you wanted something from me."

The other attorney's smile stretched into a wide grin. "As a matter of fact, I do. Remember that contract you had written for the Markham case, last December? You know, the one that got you the bonus from the Senior Partners?"

"Yes, I remember." Cole's eyes bored into Veronica's. "Why?"

A sigh left Veronica's mouth. "Because, I would like to see it. Borrow it. Use it as a template for this contract I have in mind."

Shaking his head, Cole could not help but smile. "In other words, you want to borrow my work to impress your client."

"You don't mind, do you?" Veronica gave him one of her patent innocent looks that have made her such a success in the courtroom.

Cole gave in. He really did not mind if Veronica wanted to copy his work. Besides, she happened to be one of the few people at Jackman, Carter and Kline with whom he was friendly. She was a pleasant, outgoing woman, who did not allow her own ambition to get in the way of friendship.

When Eleanor entered the office, carrying a cup of coffee, he asked her to fetch the Markham files. Once the assistant left, Veronica smiled at him. "Thanks Turner. You're a true friend. If you ever need a favor, just ask."

Favor. Cole then remembered his conversation with Andre, last night. The one about him finding a date for Bruce's wedding. Hmmmm. "Listen Veronica, there is a favor you can do for me."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

"How would you like to go to a wedding?"

Veronica paused. Confusion whirled in her eyes. "You want to take me . . . to a wedding? Me?" Again, she regarded him with suspicion. "Why? Is this some kind of date?"

"Well, no . . . uh, I mean . . ." Cole found himself in the undesirable position of being tongue-tied. He squirmed under Veronica's direct gaze. "What I meant was . . ." Hell, he might as well be truthful! "Yeah. Yeah, this is a date."

Veronica continued to stare at him. "Uh-huh. Well, I would accept . . . if I knew the reason behind this offer."

Now Cole did not know whether to feel insulted or embarrassed that he might have just been found out. So, he assumed an outraged expression and shot back, "What the hell? It's just an offer for a date! What the hell did you mean by that?"

"Cole?" Veronica's tone assumed one of a patient mother speaking to her child. "Now, you know that in the entire year you have been here . . . aside from those few months you were gone . . . not once have you ever expressed interest in me. Or I in you." She gave him another close scrutiny. "Why haven't you asked your friend, Olivia?"

"It's her brother's wedding."

Veronica shrugged. "So?"

Cole paused. "She's going to the wedding with someone else."

"Oh." Gray eyes widened with realization. "Oh!" Veronica declared. "Now, I understand. I heard that she was seen at Top-of-the-Marks with that new ADA from the East Coast. What's his name?"

Through clenched teeth, Cole murmured, "Paul Margolin."

"Oh yes," Veronica continued, nodding. "I've seen him at the Hall of Justice. Delicious."

Maintaining his temper, Cole snapped back, "Look, are you interested in going to the wedding? Or do you want me to arrange a date between you and Margolin?"

"I'd bet you'd like that," Veronica murmured.

Cole glared at his colleague. "Veronica?"

"Is this an attempt to get Olivia, jealous?" she asked shrewdly.

Realizing that he had lost of the game of deception, Cole sighed. Women. "Yes," he replied in a defeated voice. "If you must know, I'm . . ." Another sigh left his mouth. "Shit! I'm trying to get Olivia jealous. Yes."

"Thought so," Veronica shot back. "I could tell you two were interested in each other, as far back as February. Too bad you didn't realize this, back then."

"Veronica . . ." Cole's voice radiated strained patience.

She quickly spoke up. "I would love to go."

"Great!"

Veronica added, "By the way, if I meet someone I like at the wedding, consider yourself abandoned. Okay Turner?"

"Deal," Cole shot back.

Eleanor entered the office, carrying two thick files. "Here you go, Ms. Altman," she said to Cole's colleague.

"Thank you, Eleanor." Veronica flashed a smile at the legal assistant. Then she said to Cole, "See you on . . .?"

"Saturday," Cole finished. "I'll pick you up around eleven."

"I'll be ready." Veronica turned on her heels and left the office. Eleanor followed closely.

The moment the door closed behind the two women, Cole leaned back against his leather chair and sighed. Satisfied that he had completed at least one task.

* * * *

Inside Carla Bianchi's North Beach home, Olivia consoled the older woman after delivering the news of Nick Marcano's escape. The Strega, who happened to be an old friend of Gweneth McNeill and Olivia's godmother, stared ahead, her face etched in deep anxiety. On the other side of her sat Michael Bianchi, Aunt Carla's oldest son.

"I can't believe it!" Carla declared in shocked tones. "Nick has escaped? And with the help of a demon?"

Olivia nodded. "I'm afraid so, Aunt Carla. I wish that Darryl and I had come by earlier, but we had an investigation to do. Plus, we had to warn Bruce and Barbara."

"You think he's going to go after them, again?" Michael Bianchi demanded. He was a good-looking, stocky man around thirty-seven years-old. Just three years older than Bruce. Like Carla, he possessed penetrating black eyes, and thick dark brown hair. Only he merely displayed hints of gray near the sideburns.

Darryl, who had accompanied Olivia to the older woman's home, said, "It's a possibility. Considering his feelings for Barbara."

"I still can't believe that Nick had killed some newspaper columnist, plotted to kill Bruce and summoned a demon!" Michael's voice tinged with dislike. "I mean, I knew the guy had a few screws loose, but good grief! Sometimes I wish that Aunt Nina had never married that jerk." Olivia knew to whom Michael referred. Nick's late father -

Carla's eyes pinpointed her oldest son's with a hard stare. "Michael! You're talking about your cousin!"

"Look Mom, I know! But . . ."

With quiet intensity, Carla continued, "Your cousin may have committed a few mistakes, but he's a human. A living being. And like all living beings, capable of following the wrong path." Michael's face turned red, as she paused and took a deep breath. "The question is . . . where is he?"

Olivia shrugged. "I'm sorry, Aunt Carla, but we don't know. We believe that it was a demon who had sprung him, but there was no way Nick could have summoned one without the proper tools. So there's the possibility. . ." She hesitated.

Both Carla and her son stared at Olivia. "Possibility of what?" Michael demanded.

Sighing, Olivia continued, "There's the possibility that another succubus may be responsible for Nick's escape." She paused. "It seems Portia Della Scalla has a sis . . ."

"Claudia." Carla's comment took both Olivia and Darryl by surprise.

Darryl demanded, "You've heard of this demon?"

Nodding Carla continued, "Yes. I've heard of the Della Scalla sisters." She turned to Olivia. "I'm surprised that you didn't ask me about the other sister - Portia. When Nick was first arrested."

"Considering that the two succubus come from another part of Italy, I'm surprised that you even knew about them," Olivia said.

With a shrug, Carla said, "My mother came from Venice. That's where she and Papa met. During the war. World War II. She used to tell me a lot of stories about the Della Scalla sisters. Especially since one of them - Portia - tried to seduce my grandfather, once."

Looking confused, Darryl said, "I don't understand. Why do you keep calling them by human names? Especially since they're supposed to be demons?"

"Because they're descended from a human," Michael replied. "Their grandfather."

Carla added, "He was a member of a noble Venetian family, who was seduced by their grandmother. Their child, an adamitici . . . or a wizard, took his father's name of Della Scalla. This wizard was the sisters' father. Portia, the younger sister, is the one whom Bruce had killed. She was smart, like her sister. Only . . . a bit rash. And she didn't stick with the coven."

A frowning Olivia asked, "What coven?"

"La Congrega de Della Scalla," Carla announced.

"The coven is named after them?"

Carla nodded. "Claudia, the oldest, founded it over 150 years ago. It mainly consists of other incubus, succubus and some low-level demons."

Olivia dreaded asking the next question. "How big is this coven?"

A long stretch of silence followed, increasing Olivia's feeling of dread. Finally, Carla answered. "Very big. If she is behind Nick's escape . . . I only hope and pray that she will not come after Bruce or Barbara." In other words, the McNeill family had a major problem on their hands.

With forced brightness, Carla asked both Olivia and Darryl if they would each like a slice of tiramisu. Darryl immediately said yes. Olivia considered the added calories . . . and Cecile's reaction to a missed opportunity for sample of the dessert. She sighed. "Sure. Why not? Could you cut an extra slice for Cecile?"

* * * *

Around ten, the following morning, Paige descended the staircase leading to P3, the family-owned nightclub. There, she found Piper supervising workers for tonight's party. "Hey! What's up, Sis?" she greeted. "Need any help?"

Piper frowned at the younger witch. "I already have Cecile helping me. She and her boyfriend are due here, any minute. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Nah, Barbara closed the shop for the day," Paige explained. "Wedding rehearsals."

"Well, aren't you supposed to be there?" Piper added. "After all, you're one of the bridesmaids."

Paige replied, "Rehearsals aren't until two, this afternoon. Olivia is a little busy this morning. You know, the escape."

Piper ordered one of her employees to inflate more balloons. "Oh. You mean that . . ." She glanced around uneasily, to ensure that no one was listening. ". . . that witch who's in love with Barbara?"

"Yeah, Nick. Everyone's in an uproar over it. Remember how Jason reacted, last night?"

Recalling the BAY-MIRROR owner's rant over the Nick Marcano escape, last night, Piper shuddered. "Remind me to wait a while before I consider inviting him to dinner again. At least until he cools down."

"I thought you liked Jason," Paige said, giving her a light punch on the shoulder.

Piper sighed. "I do. And I think he's good for Phoebe. Especially after Cole." From the corner of her eye, she noticed the slight frown on Paige's face. "But I just wish . . . God! I wish he could be a little more . . . subtle. And not so intimidating. Anyway, why are the McNeills in an uproar over . . . whats-his-name, Nick? The demon he had summoned is dead."

"She had a sister. Remember what Cole's friend, Riggerio, told us?"

"And they're not going to cancel the wedding?" Piper asked in a dubious voice.

Shrugging, Paige replied, "Barbara insists upon going ahead with the wedding. You should be happy. Olivia is paying you a nice amount for holding the bridal shower, here at P3." She paused. "Unless Olivia has cancelled . . ."

"No, she hasn't," Piper said, interrupting. "Thank goodness. I can use the money."

Paige walked behind the bar. Piper watched, as she reached for a glass and filled it with tap water. "By the way, who have you hired for tonight's . . . entertainment?"

Piper's eyes narrowed, as she examined her sister. Despite the innocent expression on the latter's face, Piper could spot a hint of anticipation in those dark eyes. "If you must know, we will we be having a male stripper."

A broad smile creased Paige's lips.

"Olivia gave me a name," Piper continued. "Some guy named Lee Carver, who works at some place called the Strobe Light Club." From the corner of her eye, she saw one of her employees walk toward a stack of boxes. "I'm supposed to be calling him, tonight."

A noise heralded the arrival of two newcomers - Cecile Dubois, and a tall, black man with rich brown skin and a handsome regal face that had both Piper and Paige staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"Hey guys!" Cecile greeted with a smile. "Where ya at?" She indicated her handsome companion with a tug at the arm. "I'd like y'all to meet a friend of mine. Andre Morrell."

Piper opened her mouth to speak, until she realized that not a sound had come out. She gave her head a small shake. "Hi," she said, clasping Andre's outstretched hand, "I'm Piper Halliwell."

He smiled. Radiantly. "Andre Morrell." His voice was deep. And rich. He turned to face Paige. "And you are?"

"Huh?" Piper jabbed her sister's side with her elbow. "Oh." Paige blinked. "Paige. Paige Matthews."

Confusion lit up Andre's brown eyes. Cecile added, "Paige is Piper and Phoebe's half sister."

"Oh." Andre nodded. "So, what do you want me to do?"

Certain thoughts entered Piper's mind, until she remembered that she was a married woman. "Oh . . . uh, could you and Cecile help decorate the place with balloons and streamers?"

"Sure thing," Cecile said. She grabbed Andre by the arm. "Let's go, cherie."

The two Charmed Ones watched the New Orleans couple walk over to the other employees. Their eyes remained fixed on the tall man, whose body radiated a lean, muscular frame. "God!" Paige exclaimed. "Too bad he's not the male stripper."

"Paige!" Piper tried to sound outraged, but failed. She felt the same. Then she remembered. "Isn't he an old friend of Cole's?"

Paige nodded. "Yeah. They've known each other for nearly ten years. Apparently, Andre used to be a bokor. You know, like that guy who had possessed Darryl, last December."

"Figures," Piper muttered. "Great body and looks like a god. Like our former brother-in-law. Must be a requisite for the evil male. Thank goodness Leo is simply good-looking." She glanced around the club and frowned.

"What is it?" Paige asked.

Piper replied, "I don't know. What happened to that guy who was here?"

"What guy?"

Once more, Piper looked around. Maybe she had imagined things. "Nothing. It's nothing." And she and Paige returned to work.

* * * *

ACT II - Part 3

Cole and Andre were among the last guest to arrive at the Vorando Club, later that night. Everyone else seemed to be there - including the McNeill men, Darryl Morris, Paul Margolin, personal friends of Bruce, a handful of Golden Horn employees and . . . Jason Dean. The latter's presence took Cole by surprise. He had no idea that Dean was friends with either Bruce or Harry.

The red-haired witch rushed forth to greet the two newcomers. "I see you finally made it," he commented. "I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry we're late," Cole apologized. "I had an errand to run, on my way home." He nodded at the newspaper publisher. "I uh, didn't realize you were going to invite him."

Harry sighed. "I really hadn't plan on it. But Bruce asked me to extend an invitation."

Cole's brows lifted questioningly. "The question is . . . why?"

"After that article on the Golden Horn in SAN FRANCISCO TODAY, Jason had changed his mind about printing his own article in the BAY-MIRROR. Bruce found out about it and asked me to invite him to the party."

"Great," Cole grumbled. "Now I have to deal with both Margolin and Dean, tonight."

Andre asked, "And who is this Dean character?"

"Jason Dean, publisher of the SAN FRANCISCO BAY-MIRROR newspaper," Cole answered. "He's Phoebe's boss and present boyfriend." He paused momentarily. "And Olivia's ex."

Harry added, "Ex-boyfriend."

A light chuckle escaped from Andre's mouth. "Wait a minute! You mean to say that you and this fellow Dean . . . switched partners?"

"Considering that I've never dated Olivia, I don't see how that's possible," Cole grumbled.

Harry quickly spoke up. "Hey, why don't you two mingle a little? I have to speak with Riggerio about the booze. Would you believe it? We're already running low." He walked away.

The two friends glanced around the club and spotted Darryl Morris sampling food from the refreshment table. "Darryl!" Cole greeted cheerfully.

The police inspector whirled around. "Hey Cole," he replied. His eyes scrutinized the half-demon's companion. "I guess you must be . . ."

"Andre. Andre Morrell." The houngan offered his hand. Darryl shook it. "I'm uh, an old friend of Cole's. And Cecile's boyfriend."

Nodding, Darryl replied, "Yeah, Cecile. Are you . . . Voo . . . I mean, Vodoun, like her?"

Cole spoke up. "Andre is a priest. A houngan."

"And are you as powerful as Cecile?" Darryl asked.

Andre shrugged his shoulders. "Not really."

"Bullshit!" Cole retorted fondly. "Don't let him fool you, Darryl. He's very powerful. Anyway, Andre, this is Darryl Morris, Olivia's partner. He's also an old friend of the Halliwells."

The Vodoun priest's eyes narrowed. "Darryl Morris? You're the one who was possessed by Dako's spirit, last December. Right?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Darryl heaved a large sigh. "That's one experience I never want to experience again. Cecile told me that his spirit hasn't really been vanquished."

Andre responded with a disarming smile. "Afraid not. His spirit was probably returned to the Underworld. We Vodouns believe that death is not the end . . . if you know what I mean. Dako can be summoned again . . . unless his loa has been reborn in another body."

"Loa?" Darryl frowned. "That's spirit, right?"

"Yeah." Andre added, "Cecile told me that some warlocks had Dako's spirit trapped in some urn or jug. And that someone had sent it to them."

Cole said, "Some bokor named William Dagbani. He's never been found by the police. Just disappeared . . ." He halted at the sight of Leo, Margolin and Jason Dean approaching them. "Look who's here," he murmured. "Three of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

"Gentlemen," Jason announced politely. "Enjoying yourself?"

Darryl smiled. "Very much. How about you?"

Jason replied, "I'm fine." He turned to Andre. "Are you a friend of Bruce's?"

"You can say that," Andre said. "But I'm also a friend of Cecile Dubois'. And Cole's. Andre Morrell."

The publisher's smile lost some of its warmth. "Oh. Yeah. Nice to meet you, too."

Margolin offered his hand to Andre. "Paul Margolin. I met Cecile, two days ago."

Andre shook Paul's hand. "Yeah, she told me. She also told me that you work at the . . ."

"At the District Attorney's Office. I'm an ADA." Paul finally acknowledged Cole's presence with a nod. "Turner." Then he returned his attention to Andre. "What exactly do you do?"

Andre replied, "I'm a private investigator in New Orleans."

"Oh really," Jason said. "I'm a newspaper publisher. For the BAY-MIRROR. Maybe we can use your skills here in San Francisco. Especially since our police department," he gave Darryl a pointed look, "seemed to be having trouble doing their job."

Rolling his eyes, Darryl sarcastically retorted, "May I assume that you're referring to Nick Marcano's escape?"

Blue eyes frosted slightly. "Yes Inspector, you may assume. This isn't just another rant against the police force, about the press. Marcano had killed one of my employees. Remember DeWolfe Mann?"

Darryl stiffened. "I'm well aware of that fact, Mr. Dean," he replied coolly. "I'm also aware that whoever helped him escape, killed two County Sheriff guards."

Jason added, "Don't you mean, incinerate? One of my employees got the details on the killings. Do the police have any idea how that happened?"

"I have no idea," Darryl said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Sensing an opportunity for mischief, Cole spoke up. "Maybe the killings happened because of some supernatural phenomenon." His companions stared at him.

"Cole . . ." Leo began, wearing a disapproving frown.

Jason quickly interrupted, "Is this your idea of a sick joke, Turner? DeWolfe Mann was one of your clients." His face expressed outrage at Cole's comment.

Cole coolly added, "I'm not being sick. But tell me this - how do you explain the burnt bodies? Or for that matter, Portia Della Scalla? She mysteriously appears at your newspaper and you hire her without any references." Jason visibly winced, much to Cole's pleasure. "And when Marcano is arrested, she quickly disappears. I mean, exactly who . . . or what is Portia Della Scalla? And how did the bodies of those guards end up scorched like that? Did someone at the County jail see Marcano's rescuer with a blow torch, or something?"

Caution radiated from Darryl's tone. "Cole, maybe this isn't the right . . ."

"Wait a minute!" a shocked Jason cried out. "Are you trying to say that Portia Della Scalla is some kind of supernatural being? And that magical forces were behind DeWolfe Mann's mur . . ."

Andre quickly interrupted. "Uh . . . say Cole, look over there!" he said in a falsely jovial voice. "I do believe I see an old friend." He grabbed Cole's arm. "Why don't we say hello?" Cole allowed the other man to drag him away from the others. The moment they were out of earshot, Andre rounded on the half-demon. "Dammit man! What the hell's wrong with you? Are you crazy? Speaking out on magic like that?"

"Oh c'mon!" Cole protested. "I was just having a little fun with the guy. He was getting on my nerves."

Andre gave Cole a shrewd look. "This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that he's Phoebe's boyfriend?" He paused. "Or that he used to date Olivia?"

Cole responded by rolling his eyes. "Look, the guy is annoying bastard. Olivia's family seemed to think so. And didn't you see the way Darryl was looking at him?"

"Uh-huh," Andre grunted. The two friends approached the nightclub's owner, who was engrossed in a conversation with one of his employees. After the latter walked away, Andre rushed toward the owner, grinning widely. "Well, look who's here!" he proclaimed loudly.

Riggerio stared at the pair and his lips broke into a grin. "Andre! Mio amico! What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in a long time!"

"Not that long," Andre shot back. "Maybe four years." He enveloped the demon into a bear hug.

Riggerio returned Andre's hug. "Longer than that. Perhaps five. We last saw each other in Marsailles, in 1998. What have you been doing, since?"

Andre shrugged. "Oh, not much. Gave up on being a bokor."

A frown appeared on Riggerio's face. "You no longer practice magic?"

"Oh! Oh no!" Andre said with a laugh. "No, I haven't given up on that. I just . . . uh, I'm a hougan now, not a bokor.

Nodding, Riggerio said, "Ah! I understand. You are one of the 'good guys', now. On the . . . how do you say it? 'The straight and narrow path'. Yes?"

"Straight and narrow . . .?" One of Andre's brows formed a dubious arch. "Listen man, I may have given up being a bokor, but I'm not exactly a saint."

Riggerio nodded. "My apologies," he replied smoothly. "I did not mean to insult you. I must say that you and Belthazor seemed to be creating a trend of our kind rejecting the uh . . . dark side. Becoming good guys."

Cole smirked. "C'mon Riggerio. We all know there those among our kind who don't follow a darker path. And I seem to recall that your coven does not serve one side or the other. In fact, you never have. And you're offering your club for a witch's bachelor party."

A disarming smile graced Riggerio's lips. "I may be a demon, but I'm also a businessman. Why should I pass up an opportunity for profit?"

"Why indeed?" Cole added. "By the way, I was wondering if you could help me on an important matter."

"You are speaking of the Streghone who had recently escaped from jail. Yes?"

Cole nodded. "Right, as usual." He paused. "When you first told us about Portia Della Scalla, you had also mentioned an older sis . . ."

Riggerio interrupted. "Claudia. She is . . . was Portia's older sister."

"Do you know if she's . . .?"

Again, the demon interrupted. "Yes, she is here in San Francisco. I have just recently discovered. The word is that she is looking for revenge ag . . ."

This time, Cole interrupted. "Against Bruce." He sighed. "So, she must have been the one responsible for the jail break. I should have known."

"Should have known what?" a new voice asked. The other three stared at the guest of honor, who stood behind Cole. "What are you talking about?"

Cole, Andre and Riggerio hesitated. Finally, the half-demon spoke. "We were talking about Nick Marcano. We uh, might have an idea who's behind his escape."

Bruce stared at the trio. "Like who? Portia Della Scalla is dead. I killed her."

"She had a sister," Cole continued. "Claudia Della Scalla."

A sigh left Bruce's mouth. "Great! And I bet she's after me. Right?" When Cole and the others failed to answer, he nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for the answer. I think that any chance of me enjoying this party has been shot. Other than surviving long enough to marry Barbara, I can't see anything that will put me in a good mood."

Harry's voice boomed above the music. "Take a seat, everyone! It's time for our stripper!"

Andre turned to Bruce. "Well, there's something to look forward to."

* * * *

"So, when is the stripper going to perform?" Paige impatiently asked Cecile. The pair sat before P3's bar, sipping their drinks. Paige held a glass of Seven-Up, while Cecile nursed a margarita. Aimee Mann blasted from the club's sound system. "Don't get me wrong, the party's great, but I've been looking forward to my first male stripper."

Disbelief shone in Cecile's dark eyes. "Your first?"

"Okay, my fifth," Paige retorted. "But I've never seen one at a bridal shower."

Cecile frowned. "What about Piper and Phoebe's bridal showers?"

Paige took a sip of her Seven-Up. "I wasn't around when Piper and Leo got married. And Phoebe and Cole had a pre-wedding supper for the family. It was nice, but considering that Cole was possessed at the time . . ."

"Well, be thankful that neither Barbara or Bruce are demonically possessed," Cecile said to the younger woman.

"Yeah, but they still have a vengeful succubus and Nick Marcano to worry about." A sigh left Paige's mouth. "Why can't Wiccan weddings go smoothly?"

Cecile added, "From what Cole had told me, he and Phoebe were married by a priest."

Paige corrected her. "A demon disguised as a priest. I mean, a dark priest from the Underworld."

"And yet, weren't they originally supposed to be married in a Catholic chapel?" Cecile demanded. "So, why didn't they have a Wiccan ceremony?"

"I don't know. I never really bothered to ask." The music continued to fill the nightclub. Paige watched some of the guests sway to the music. She saw Piper leave the club's kitchen, carrying a tray of canapés. Phoebe sat on the Halliwells' official sofa, holding Wyatt. The younger Mrs. McNeill sat with her. The others - including Olivia, Mrs. Dubois, and Barbara, were on the dance floor. Caught up in the music and the atmosphere, Paige failed to hear Cecile's next words. "What did you say?"

Barely shouting above the music, Cecile repeated, "I was asking about the demon who had taken Cole's powers!"

Paige frowned at the other woman. "You mean Barbas? Why are you interested in him? He's dead. Cole killed him."

"Oh." Cecile paused. Took a sip of her margarita. Then, "Before Cole got his powers back, did you and your sisters try to kill Barbas?"

Wondering what this conversation was leading to, Paige stared at the priestess. "Uh, yeah. We tried using the Power of Three spell - the same one we had used on the Source - but it didn't work. With Cole's powers, Barbas was too strong."

Cecile took another sip. "This Power of Three spell, it's the one in which you also invoke the powers of your ancestors. Right?"

Paige forgot about her drink. "Okay Cecile, what's this about?"

"Listen, I'm not sure I should tell you this," Cecile began. "In fact, I'm not sure if I should tell anyone. It started when I first met . . ." She broke off, as two other figures approached the bar. Her mother and Olivia's grandmother. "Hey Mama, Mrs. McNeill! Enjoying the party?"

Elise McNeill smiled at the two younger women. "It's not bad. Although I could use a little Tony Bennett. Or Nat King Cole." She said to Cecile, "When is the stripper going to perform?"

"Huh?" Paige blinked. Did she just hear a seventy-something woman ask about a male stripper.

Blue eyes twinkled merrily. "I was asking about the stripper. I may be seventy-nine, but I'm also a woman."

"Ditto," Mrs. Dubois added.

"Why is everyone asking me?" Cecile demanded. "Olivia planned this party." The other three continued to stare at her. She sighed. "Okay, the stripper should be showing up around nine. Happy?" Both Mrs. McNeill and Mrs. Dubois expressed delight. Cecile rolled her eyes.

Recalling her previous conversation with the younger Vodoun priestess, Paige decided to bring it up. "Cecile, what were you about to tell me? Something about Cole's powers, I think."

Discomfort flashed across Cecile's face. "Oh. That. Uh, it's nothing. Well, maybe . . ." She sighed. "Okay, I might as well mention it, especially since I wanted to talk to you, Mama, about it. And Mrs. McNeill. I had a vision. When I met Olivia's new friend at Pier 39, Wednesday night."

"Paul Margolin?" Mrs. McNeill demanded. "What did you . . .?"

Mrs. Dubois added, "Why don't you just show us, cherie?"

Cecile glanced around. Then her eyes widened. Paige realized that the telepath was about to send her vision. "Uh, wait . . ." The Charmed One gasped, as the vision overwhelmed her mind. Once it had ended, she cried out, "Oh my God!"

"You're telling me!" Mrs. McNeill added in astonished tones. "Did I just see Olivia kill Cole?"

Nodding, Cecile said to Paige, "That's why I was asking about that Barbas guy."

"But that's impossible!" Paige exclaimed. "How could . . . how would Livy be able to kill Cole, when we weren't able to vanquish Barbas when he had Cole's powers?"

Cecile shrugged. "Don't ask me."

"Why would Olivia kill Cole in the first place?" Cecile's mother asked.

An uneasy feeling overcame Paige. "Maybe . . . Do you think that Cole will turn evil, again?"

Mrs. McNeill commented, "I'm wondering why this vision came to Cecile, after she had shook Paul's hand. And why did he have that strange expression on his face? He looked so . . ."

"Smug?" Mrs. Dubois suggested. The elderly woman nodded.

"Yeah, I also noticed that," Cecile added. "There's just something about him that . . . I don't know. He just makes me feel uneasy."

Paige asked, "Will you tell Olivia?"

Cecile sighed. "I don't know. What am I going to say? Tell her to break up with . . . what's his name?"

"Paul," Mrs. McNeill added.

Continuing, Cecile said, "What do I say to Livy? Tell her to break up with Paul, because I had a vision of her killing Cole . . . after shaking his hand?"

"Don't tell her," Mrs. McNeill ordered. "At least not yet. Wait and see how this . . . friendship with Paul turn out. If it becomes serious and affects Cole, then tell her." She sighed. "Or maybe you should simply go ahead and tell her, anyway."

Cecile's mouth formed a grim line. "Shit! There are times I wish I never had this damn power! Seeing the future sure can be a curse!"

A sympathetic Paige nodded. "Yeah, think that's how Phoebe feels, sometimes."

* * * *

A tall, muscular figure emerged from the apartment building and started toward the blue-gray Toyota, parked next to the curb. Just as Lee Carver leaned forward to open the car door, a second figure materialized beside him, causing the dancer to nearly jump out of his skin.

"Christ! You scared the hell out of me! What do you want?" he demanded in an irritated voice.

"Pardon signor," the man replied in a smooth accent. Italian. "I am . . . eh, new to San Francisco and I am trying to find someone. Uh, a Signor Lee Carver. Do you know him?"

Lee peered closely at the man. The latter seemed respectable. Non-threatening. He was a tall, dark-haired man with a slender, yet wiry frame. "I'm Lee Carver. What do you want?"

The stranger expressed surprise. "Oh! You're Signor Carver? Who works at the Strobe Light Club, as a dancer?"

Wariness overcame Lee. How in the hell did this guy knew where he worked? "Okay Dude, who in the hell are you?"

The man responded with an easy smile. "My name is Alessandro Pelligio. I am the . . . new owner of a club in North Beach. I am looking for new dancers. After seeing your act at the Strobe Light, I thought you would be interested in a new job. That is . . . if you're the same Signor Carver."

"I'm him!" Lee's interest perked a bit. "I'm Lee Carver. Listen, I have a gig, tonight. At a private party. So, why don't we deal with this later?"

A smile stretched Pelligio's lips. "Don't worry, Signor. This will not take long." His eyes suddenly glowed red.

Lee's eyes widened in fear. "What the . . .?" Seconds later, his entire body seared with heat. Lee blacked out, but not before his voice filled the air with screams of pain.

* * * *

Cheers and whistles from onlookers filled the Vorando Club. On stage, a scantily-clad female gyrated to the music blasting from the club's sound system. Every man had his eyes glued to the dancer - save for a handful. Both Jack McNeill and Riggerio were engaged in some kind of conversation. Leo seemed downright embarrassed by the dancer's performance and focused elsewhere. Cole simply felt bored. Strippers had never done much for him.

Once the performance ended, the bachelor party's guests broke into a round of applause. The stripper waved and left the stage. Riggerio left Mr. McNeill's side and walked onstage to present the next act. Cole rolled his eyes in disgust. It was another stripper. Great. When the next act began, Cole slipped off the bar stool and strode out of the club.

Outside of the club, Cole took a few deep breaths and watched the cars speed along Powell. A few minutes passed and he became aware another figure leaving the nightclub. "Cole?" a voice declared in a surprised tone. "I didn't realize . . ."

The half-demon glanced to his left and heaved an annoyed sigh. "Leo. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Huh?" The whitelighter's blue eyes widened. "No! I mean . . . no, I uh, I just stepped out for some fresh air."

A smirk curled Cole's lips. "Oh, I see. The entertainment wasn't much to your taste."

"No." Even in the dark, Cole could tell that Leo was blushing. "I mean . . . it's like I said - I needed the air. That's all."

"Okay. Sure." Cole turned away from the whitelighter and continued to watch the passing traffic. He added, "Personally, I didn't care for the entertainment. Watching strippers were never my style."

Frustration tinged Leo's sigh. "Look, I wasn't bothered by the strippers. They were around in my day too, you know."

"I didn't say that you were bothered by them," Cole shot back.

Leo retorted, "Maybe not, but you seemed bent on hinting that I . . . that I'm some kind of prude."

His sense of peace shattered, Cole snarled, "You know Leo, I don't give a rat's ass what you think about the strippers! Okay?"

"You never seemed to care what anyone thinks," Leo shot back. "At least, lately."

Cole glared at his former brother-in-law. "That's right. I don't care! You see, I've grown wiser over the past several months."

"Well, if you were so 'wise', you would have never made that crack about magic to Jason!"

Rolling his eyes, Cole retorted, "I was just pulling the guy's leg! Besides, he will have to learn the truth about Phoebe and the others, one of these days."

"It was dangerous, Cole! Just like that deal you made with the Seer to become the Source. Tell me, was it wise for you to come back from the Wasteland?" Leo faced Cole, his blue eyes chips of ice. "Had it ever occurred to you, Cole that you should have stayed dead?"

Anger washed over Cole. "First of all, I had made a deal to use the Hollow to take the Source's powers, not become the Source! Second . . ."

"Oh come on, Cole! Who are you kidding? Those powers turned you into the Source!"

Cole took a deep breath and counted to three. One . . . two . . . three . . . "Leo, those damn powers DID NOT turn me into the Source," he growled. "If they had, then Piper and Paige's powers should have made the Source two-thirds of the Charmed Ones! And they, along with Phoebe would have never been able to vanquish the Source using a Power of Three spell! But they did, because the Hollow didn't give them their essence. In fact, it wasn't until after they killed the bastard that his essence began to take possession of my body. If you and the Self-Righteous Ones had bothered to stop and consider how I became the Source, you probably would have found out! How many fucking times does someone have to tell you?"

Leo began , "And what about . . .?"

"As for my decision to leave the Wasteland," Cole continued, "I didn't plan on it. Not at first. I was about to give myself up to the Beast when the power of a vanquished demon fell upon me. So I took advantage of the situation and gathered more powers."

Shaking his head with dismay, Leo replied, "And you never stopped to think that you shouldn't have done it?"

"Maybe the Halliwells shouldn't have killed me when I was possessed!" Cole snarled. "Or . . . did you ever stop to think that your scheme to marry Piper behind your bosses' backs was wrong?"

Leo's face hardened. "You were responsible for them finding out! And I wanted to marry Piper! How is that wrong?"

Cole retorted, "I don't know, Leo. Maybe it was you were so willing to risk the sisters' lives to get what you wanted. Well, I wanted a second chance with Phoebe! Unlike you, I didn't get my wish. Hopefully, I might have a chance with someone else."

"If you're speaking of Olivia, forget it!" Leo's voice bridled with contempt. "She has interests, elsewhere."

Cole gave the whitelighter a shrewd look. "And all according to plan. Right Leo? Isn't Olivia the reason you had talked Margolin into applying for a job, here on the West Coast?"

Leo shot back, "It's for her own good! Considering your talent for bringing chaos in your wake, I thought it was prudent that Olivia became interested in someone who's a lot safer and more dependable!" He paused, as horror over his revelation filled his eyes.

A knowing smile touched Cole's lips. "So, Paige was right after all. She told me what Margolin had said to her at Nathalie Gleason's party. About your little matchmaking scheme."

The whitelighter's body stiffened. "I suppose you're going to tell her. Tell Olivia."

"Maybe." Cole grinned. "Then again, maybe I won't have to. Your plan for Margolin and Olivia wasn't the only thing I had learned at Nathalie's party."

"What do you mean?" Leo demanded.

Cole paused dramatically. "That's between me and Olivia. Enjoy yourself." He turned his back on Leo and returned to the bachelor party.

* * * *

Strains of Rod Stewart singing "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" filled P3. All eyes were focused on the muscular man gyrating on the stage. When ripped away a pair of white trousers, revealing a black thong underneath, whistles and screams filled the club. Even Barbara could not help but admire the man's . . . assets. Although Bruce could definitely give him competition.

The dancer completed his performance and the women broke into applause. The only person missing seemed to be the club's owner. Piper had disappeared with baby Wyatt, once the stripper had appeared on stage. Sure enough, the applause died down, the stripper left the stage and Piper, with Wyatt in her arms, reappeared. "Is the show over?" she asked. The oldest Charmed One glanced at the stage. "Oh, I guess he is."

Nathalie Gleason heaved a mournful sigh. "Unfortunately." She turned to Olivia, who sat next to the bar with Mrs. Dubois. "Where did you find that guy, anyway?"

Olivia shrugged. "At some place called the Strobe Light Club. Apparently, he's very popular with the customers."

"Apparently?" Barbara replied knowingly.

"All right! I saw him there!" Olivia shot back. She glared at the blond woman. "You have to admit that he's not bad."

Nathalie snorted. "Not bad? Honey, he's more than just 'not bad'!"

A smile tugged at Mrs. Dubois' lips. "I don't know. I've seen better, myself."

"Oh!" Olivia's face lit up. "That dancer at the Hurricane Club on Bourbon Street! I remember him."

Mrs. Dubois heaved a heartfelt sigh. "Yeah, so do I."

Looking somewhat dubious, Nathalie replied, "Oh-kaay. Although I can't see anyone being better than Surfer Boy, up there."

"Uh, now that the entertainment is over," Piper said, cutting into the conversation, "is everyone ready for dessert?"

Detecting a familiar pressure on her bladder, Barbara said, "In a minute. I have to make a little trip to the Ladies Room." She slid off the bar stool and strode toward the bathroom.

After completing her tasks, a few minutes later, Barbara washed her hands and left the bathroom. She had not taken more than eight steps, when she collided with a burly figure. It was the stripper that Olivia had hired. Fully dressed, this time.

"Oh," she said, feeling a wave of heat flame her cheeks. "It's you. Excuse me."

The dancer responded with a dazzling smile. With those blond looks and smile, Nathalie had been right to nickname him, Surfer Boy. "Of course. I . . . uh, I hope that you enjoyed the show."

"Actually, I did. You were pretty . . ." Barbara halted in mid-sentence. The dancer's looks transformed right before her eyes. Blond hair became dark. Blue eyes now shone dark-brown. The wide face narrowed. And so did the body, which changed from broad and muscular to slim and wiry. "What the hell?" she cried.

Before Barbara could say anything further, those dark eyes became penetrating. Hypnotic. And the blond witch's mind slipped into oblivion.

* * * *

Claudia Della Scalla teleported into the middle of P3's narrow hallway. She saw her minion, Alessandro, holding a blond woman in his arms. "Excellent work, Sandro," she said. "Now, take her back to the house."

Alessandro hesitated. "I understand that you do not want her dead, Padronessa, but do I have to stay with her? I have not . . . eh, received my pay. Yet." His eyes cast downward. "And I have another dance to perform."

"And I look forward to seeing it." The older succubus's eyes swept appreciatively over her younger counterpart's body, causing the latter to blush. "Do not worry, Sandro. Just take her to the villa and return. The Streghone, Rosa and Giancarlo will look after her." Claudia added, "About the amulet I gave you . . . did it work? Or were the old lady and the Vodoun priestess able to detect you?

Shaking his head, Alessandro replied that both telepaths had not detected him. "Nor had the Halliwell seer." A groan left his mouth. "Scusatemi Signorina, but may I leave now? The witch . . . she is getting heavy."

Claudia nodded. Alessandro sighed and disappeared with the witch in his arms. The succubus grabbed hold of the amulet around her neck and stared at it. After learning from Marcano about the three telepaths, she had invoked a spell around three amulets to block any telepathic activity toward her or her assistants. Satisfied by Alessandro's assurances that it worked, Claudia allowed her body to transform into another. She slipped into the Ladies' Room and checked her image in the mirror. A smug smile curled her lips. Perfect. She looked exactly like Barbara Bowen.

END OF ACT II