"Why didn't it work?" Phoebe gritted through her teeth.

"We did the same exact thing, and it worked for us," Paige complained.

"It's Piper," Grams interjected. "She is fighting this. If she would come back and relive all the problems she had, the heartache, the grief—especially with Leo. Accepting who she is will put her back in the same position as before. She wanted a normal life, and she had one for awhile. It's just magic got in the way."

"But there were so many good memories too. Why can't Piper overlook those?" I wondered.

"Piper will come out when she will let herself remember. Until then, watch over her. Her memories will hopefully return." Grams sighed. "I'm going to take a nap. Why don't you see what she's making in the kitchen?" Grams weighed heavily on her cane as she crept out of the attic.

Taking Grams advice, we decided to check on Holly. A large stockpot was steaming, and the cupboards for spices and herbs were wide open. We stared in amazement how fluidly Holly moved through the kitchen. There was no guessing where the utensils were. No questions about where the vials were kept—as if she had been in this kitchen all of her life.

I whispered to Paige and Phoebe, "You think she remembers? Maybe upstairs was a bluff?"

Before either of my sisters could reply, Holly looked up, "Hey, you're right. You've got everything!" Holly stared at the spice cabinets, "I love the way the herbs and spices are separated—those for cooking, those for witchcraft, and in the middle, both."

"That's not Piper," Paige seems to be confident.

"Why?" What did Paige know?

"When Piper was pregnant with Wyatt, I became head witch and changed things around like the cupboard. She absolutely hated it. I was yelled for being in her domain."

"Then, why is it still organized that way?"

"It was one of our many compromises. Piper realized finally that I did have a few good ideas."

Before I could answer, Holly interrupted us, "Demon blood?"

"It's in the back of the freezer. I didn't want my daughter to think it was a blueberry popsicle." Holly dug deeply into the freezer and brought it to the bubbling kettle."

"You might want to stand back," Phoebe warned. "It will explode when the demon blood is placed in the pot."

Taking Phoebe's advice, Holly took a few steps back and tossed the blue object into the makeshift cauldron. POOF!

Phoebe moved in closer, "So it's done?"

"I think." Holly grabbed several vials and a turkey baster we used for potions. She filled one of the vials with the purplish liquid, and she began to place the stopped on the vial.

"WAIT!" Paige yelled. "Those vials are made of very thin glass. They are meant to be broken. You stopper this potion now, this hot, it will shatter. All of your work will be wasted."

She still held onto the vial, "But what do I do now?"

Phoebe thought for a minute. "Some demons require a potion and a vanquishing spell. It would be suicidal for you to approach this demon and can't vanquish him."

"How will I know if it needs both?"

"The Book," I answered. "It should give all the information we need about your demon. By the time, we're finished looking at the Book, your potion should be cooled to bottle."

"Fine. I'll keep this one with me, so I can tell when the potion is cool enough. Let's go check your Book."

We entered the attic as the sun was beginning to set. Kip had been watching little Piper while I was dealing with this mess.

"Okay," Phoebe began, "Place your hands above the Book and concentrate on the demon. The Book should be able to find him." Holly's hands were a foot apart from the Book, and she closed her eyes. Pages began to turn rapidly until it stopped suddenly.

When Holly opened her eyes, she turned green. "That's the demon that killed my Mom."

As I looked at the same page, I encountered an eerie, ironic twist. My mouth turned dry as I whispered, "This is the demon that killed my Mom, too." I couldn't believe it; the demon who took Holly's Mom's life had taken away my mother's also. I started to shake.

"Pr-Shannen, are you okay?" Phoebe, empath or no empath, could read emotions very well.

I took a cleansing breath, and I read the entry: "The Blood Collector—an upper level demon who collects witches' blood in his syringe-like fingers. He uses the blood to corrupt the cells to kill the individual witch."

Paige gasped, "That's why people—the Halliwell line is sick. He's collected blood from our relatives to bring a plague onto our family."

I continued to read, "A potion," fingering the list, "with these ingredients will immobilize him. Then, there's a spell to vanquish him."

Holly smiled, "That sounds easy."

I felt disheartened, "It's not going to be easy. The spell needs the Power of Four."

"Power of what?"

"In other words, we have to find a way to vanquish the demon using only the Power of Three."

"Prue, that's suicide," Phoebe didn't care about names anymore.

"Who's Prue?" After no answer, Holly grabbed a piece of paper and wrote the spell down.

"You know, it won't work," Paige argued.

"I don't care. I have to do something." Holly made five strides, stopped, and dropped to the floor.

"HOLLY!"

Next to Holly's body was the broken potion vial. She was covered head to toe in boils, and she was hot to the touch.

We all screamed, "KYLE!"

Kyle orbed in and placed his hands on Holly. A golden glow hovered her, but she remained the same condition.

"Why isn't this working?" I cried. I, like Phoebe and Paige, had tears in our eyes.

"I don't know. This is the first time that I haven't been able to heal the living. What do we need?"

Paige, Phoebe, and I stared at each other and, like a chorus, "Leo."