Helen flipped through a book. She arrived in Magic School earlier that day to do some extra research on a specific ghost. Tricia called her previously to report about several deaths in San Diego that baffled some officers. It was located in one of the most haunted houses in California so she gave a tip to Helen. Of course, the death was at the Whaley House, said to be one of the most haunted in their state. As a joke, two kids sneaked into the house, only to be found dead several hours later. The kids were found in the archway between the music and parlor room. They appeared to be strangled to death, even though they had no marks on their necks.

"Aha," Helen said, finally finding the page she was looking for. White conjuring orbs started circling in front of her eyes. Melinda appeared before her.

"How's it going?"

"I found the guy," she pointed to the picture. Melinda peered over her shoulder and started reading.

" 'Yankee Jim' Robinson was a poor man who attempted to steal a boat from the same location in which the Whaley House now stands, but was caught. He was taken to trial, which sentenced him a hanging for his crime. On day of execution, they didn't factor his height when constructing the gallows. His toes scraped the ground and it took approximately," she winced. "forty-five minutes for him to get strangled to death."

"Ouch," Helen said.

"So his execution was 1852. He's been around for 176 years, what's making him kill today of all days?" Melinda questioned. Helen thought for a moment and looked back at the page. She nodded, pointing.

"He was killed on September 18th," she said. Melinda nodded.

"It's the old guy's birthday," she commented sourly.

"So we'll just dig up his bones," Helen said.

Melinda shook her head. "He's been dead since 1852, I doubt we'll be able to find his grave, if they even let alone buried him properly."

"Well we could try looking for it and if we can't find it, we'll look for another way to banish him," Helen suggested. Melinda shrugged.

"Okay, but if there is no grave, I am not turning into a ghost to vanquish him. Not again," Melinda said, pointing her finger at Helen. She laughed.

Melinda crossed her arms. "I am not kidding!"

"Alright, alright," Helen said.


Tricia sat in her office, concentrated on a case. She saw her boss walk through the station. She grabbed her new partner's packet and quickly got up, running after him.

"Lieutenant?" she yelled after him. He kept walking, ignoring her.

"Lieutenant!" she said louder. He turned around and stopped.

She threw the stack of papers on his desk. "I can't work with Officer Monroe."

He looked at her questioningly.

"I know him on a personal basis, I don't think it'll be very professional if we worked together," she explained. He breathed in and walked to his desk.

"Were you in a relationship?" he asked.

She shook her head, "No, but..."

"Then there is no problem."

She sighed.

"Last time I checked, Officer Halliwell, this wasn't jury duty. I don't give a damn if you know him," he walked over to her and led her out of his office. "He is your partner, you will learn to trust him. You will learn to work with him." He slammed the door in her face. She groaned and turned around, stomping back to her office. She sat down and rested her head in her hands. She thought back to her last encounter with August.

August ran his hand through his long, shaggy brown hair. He placed the last item in the last box from his room. It was a photo of him with his two best friends; two cousins, Mel Halliwell and Tricia Mitchell-Halliwell. He secured the box close and stepped out of his house. A blue wave ran through his body. He stopped short and looked across the street at Tricia's house. He thought for a moment and dropped the box on the grass. The top flew open and the frame flew out of the box, hitting the pavement. The glass cracked between his and Tricia's face. He marched over across the street and knocked on the door repeatedly, with no break.

Tricia headed down the stair. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" The fourteen-year-old brunette bounced to the door, making sure not to drop the going away present she got. She opened to face an angry August. He rushed past her, fuming. He paced back and forth. He placed his hands on his hip, fidgeting them from his hip to his head and back.

"August? What's wrong?"

He laughed. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" She looked at him with dazed eyes. She waited for an answer. He stopped pacing.

"You. That's what's wrong. I open up to you. I tell you the truth about me, and what do you do? You cast a spell on me," he said. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

"Hmmph. Of course, you have nothing to say. Just like you. You make a mistake and don't live up to it."

She stepped forward. "Hey! I make mistakes and when I do, I admit them. But that spell was not a mistake. I cast it because even if Mel was ready to tell you, I wasn't. It's not my fault you opened up right away. That was your decision. You're just an open book…"

He cut her off. "I'm an open book? Me?"

She fumed. "Ha! You're doubting it? When you moved here, you so desperately wanted a friend that you'd be willing to tell anybody your secret just so they'd like you. I became your friend because I felt sorry for you," she spit out.

He nodded."Oh, of course. And I just ran to your feet because you were the only person who would be my friend."

She brushed past him angrily. She started to talk, but he stopped her.

"You know what? I trusted you and I thought that through our years of friendship, you would learn to trust me too. But I guess you're just not capable of letting people in. To tell you the truth, I think you were just scared. Because I know you so well, you were afraid if I found out you were a witch too, there'd be nothing left to know and you got scared of that," he headed to the door and stopped.

"You could take your magic and everything about you and just shove it." He slammed the door and walked back to his house, in a hurry. Tricia stood frozen in her place. She looked at her present, which she wrapped in their favorite newspaper comics. She threw it at the ground with force and ran upstairs. It shattered, ripping through the newspaper. Paige appeared from her hiding spot behind the door. She picked up the broken gift and re-wrapped it in the newspaper, placing it in a bag.


"Chris!" Melinda yelled. Seconds later, he orbed in front of her eyes. It was later that day, around 7 P.M. They had waited for it to get dark to vanquish the ghost, so others wouldn't see them digging up his grave.

"What's going on?" he questioned, noticing Helen stuffing potions a small brown sack.

"Ghost killing in San Diego. We need an orb to…" she paused, trying to remember the cemetery's name.

"El Campo Santo Cemetery. According to some sites, he's been buried there so we're going to try to find his grave and burn his bones," Melinda finished.

"You're going alone?" he walked over to the book and read about the ghost. He shook his head. "No, I'm coming with you. This guy has been around for over 100 years, who knows what kind of powers he has."

Helen nodded. "Good idea, we'd have more active powers then, but it takes someone a couple of good solid years to be able to cross over so he can't be too powerful."

"Well let's say 100 years to cross over…that still leaves about 70 years of learning and controlling his powers," Chris reminded.

"Okay, let's just go," Melinda said. He nodded and put his hands on their shoulders. Blue orbing lights transported them to the cemetery in San Diego. Helen groaned at the sight of the numerous tombs and emerged with a printed picture.

"This is his grave," she pointed to the picture. "Now all we have to do is find it." They observed the dozens of graves before them.

"Better start looking," Chris said. They spread out. "Stay close."

Helen nodded and started slowly walking through the rows of graves. She walked to the end of the fence and backed up a little, bumping into a tall grave. She toppled over and screamed. Melinda and Chris ran towards her. Melinda helped her get up.

"Ow," she said, rubbing her head. "What was that…?" She looked over at the grave and back at the picture. Peering closer, she read 'Yankee Jim' on it.

"Bingo," Melinda said. She emerged with a shovel and hit the ground.

"I feel so bad doing this," Melinda said, as she dug up the grave. Helen started digging with her.

"Why would he do this stuff? I mean, you'd think after 176 years of being a ghost, he'd have time to think about stuff. He chose to kill," she said, as they dug.

"You two are ridiculous," Chris interrupted. They stopped digging and turned to him. He was standing, watching them.

"Why aren't you digging?" Melinda asked angrily. He motioned his hands up. Blue orbs appeared at the headstone and the coffin appeared.

"Oh, nice," Helen said sarcastically, tossing the shovel.

"Okay," Melinda said. She picked up the bag they brought. It was filled with a small bottle of oil, a pack of salt, vials, and a matchbox. She nodded to Helen.

"Open it."

Helen turned to her.

"Me? You must be insane, I'm not touching that," she said.

"Well, I'm not touching it," Melinda screeched. Chris sighed.

"You two are a bunch of big babies," he said, brushing off the dirt from the coffin. He popped the latches and opened it. He turned to the girls.

"That was so hard," he said, sarcastically. Melinda and Helen peered over his shoulder and back at each other.

"What?" he asked.

"Uhh, Chris," Melinda pointed to the coffin. He turned.

"What the…?"

The coffin had an outline of somebody's previous body in it, but the bones were missing.

"Great," Melinda said, throwing her hands up in the air. "What are we gonna do now?"

Helen picked up the bags. "We'll figure something out. Could you…?" She motioned to the coffin. He nodded, orbing the coffin down into the ground, covering the area as though nobody had been there.

"This is stupid. It seems like he only comes out every September 18th, why don't we just wait 'till next year? It's already getting late," Helen complained.

Chris shook his head. "Because what if he found a way around that? We started hunting this ghost, we're gonna finish him." Melinda nodded.

"Yeah," Melinda agreed.

"Well, if we're gonna kill someone to vanquish him, it's gonna be Chris," she said.

"Hey!"

"Yeah. Melinda already called herself out and I have to be there to heal the person," she said as Chris orbed them out of there.

"Well, technically we use the potion…" Melinda said. Helen punched her shoulder.

"Well, we'll just see," he said, his voice echoing throughout the cemetery. A black smoky aura passed through the area in which they stood, and traveled miles to an old, rusty building. A breathy noise came from the aura as it was sucked back into the owner. His blonde hair shined from his tall figure. He took a step down the stairs of the house and breathed deeply.