Nothing was going his way. Not one blessed thing. He was late, he couldn't find his car keys, and to top it all off, he had to deal with his baby brother.
"But, Paul, I swear this is real," Philip had said, flipping open the dusty, old book. "We could be these Charmed Ones it keeps talking about." Paul had only rolled his eyes and smacked the morning's newspaper onto the table. "Check out the want ads, Phil. If you're going to stay here, you need to pull your own weight.""You never believe me, man," Philip spat.
Paul sighed as he'd watched his youngest brother stalk off into the living room. Philip. What was he going to do with Philip? Part of him wanted to protect him like he did when they were younger. But the other half of him was still furious with the boy over his tryst with Rhonda. Paul closed his eyes and clutched the steering wheel. He didn't want to recall that memory, but it came to the surface anyway. A year and a half ago, Paul and Rhonda were in the middle of planning their wedding. She had the dress all picked out, and he had the honeymoon destination ready to go. It didn't matter she was his boss. All that mattered was she loved him. He was so convinced she did. Then Philip had the brilliant idea to go talk to her. He had protested that if she was going to be his sister-in-law, he had to get to know her. Parker was supposed to go with him, but something had come up with Gramps. Later that night, Philip had stormed into the house, declaring Rhonda was a slut and Paul shouldn't marry her. The next day, Paul asked her about the meeting. She burst into tears, claiming Philip had his hands all over her. God help him, he believed Rhonda over his own brother. Now he didn't know what to think. A week later, he had caught Rhonda in the workroom with her skirt above her head, and an intern kissing places he shouldn't be kissing. He had broken it off then and there. Deep down, Paul knew Philip had told the truth, but pride wouldn't let him accept it. It still wouldn't. And now Philip had come home and was insisting he, Parker, and Paul were some kind of superheroes. Paul rolled his eyes, turning into the parking lot. When would Philip grow up and face the real world? Paul pulled into a parking space at Buckland's Auction House and prepared for the day ahead. If he was lucky, he wouldn't run into Rhonda at all. The moment he entered his office, he knew he wasn't lucky. Not today. Rhonda was perched on the edge of his desk, her legs crossed provocatively. Her brown hair fell in waves passed her shoulders, and her dark eyes twinkled when she saw him. "Paul, darling! You and I need to talk about the Beals expedition," she purred. Paul left the door wide open as he came inside. He strolled past Rhonda without glancing her way. Setting his briefcase down, he turned and finally acknowledged her existence. "Don't you have your own office, Ms. Pierce?" Rhonda slid across his desk and took the end of his tie in her hands. "Ooh, I love it when you call me Ms. Pierce." She leaned into his ear. "It makes me feel naughty."Paul jerked away, taking a step back. "What about the Beals expedition?"
"Well, the extra money you helped raise sparked significant corporate interest." She hopped off the desk. "The Beals artifacts will now become a permanent part of our collection." "That's terrific!" Paul replied, a smile spreading across his face. Could this be it? The big break to boost his career? With this acquisition under his belt, he might actually move up in the company and be free of Rhonda. One could only hope. Rhonda placed her hands on his desk, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Which is why the board wants someone a little more qualified to handle the collection from now on." Paul's heart stopped. "Someone meaning you?"Rhonda giggled. "You look surprised."
Strange, he didn't feel surprised. Instead, a ball of rage formed in the pit of Paul's stomach, threatening to pour out if he didn't keep it down. He wanted to hurt something, break something. His hands clenched into fists. For a split second, he thought he heard the window behind him rattle. "I've been in on this project since its inception!" He spat. "I'm the curator who secured the entire exhibition." "I could hardly say no to the board of directors, could I?" Rhonda crossed her arms, a satisfied smirk on her face. Paul leaned on his desk. He couldn't face this woman any longer. All he could see was red. Was it his imagination or was the desk beneath his fingers shaking. He closed his eyes and willed his temper to calm. He didn't need this, not after everything else that happened. He took a deep breath and met Rhonda's eyes. The desk stopped shaking. He simply said, "I quit." Straightening, he grabbed his suitcase and started for the door. "What?" Rhonda raced after him, intercepting him at the door. "Think about this, Paul." Paul smiled. "Lousy job, lousy pay, lousy boss. What's to think about?" He tried to step around her, but she placed both hands on either side of the door and blocked his path. "You walk out that door, you can kiss any references..." she started. Paul bent down, almost touching her nose. "Are you threatening me?" he asked calmly. Rhonda let out a nervous giggle. "You know me. I had to try." Paul didn't answer. Rhonda rambled on. "You see, I had to take that exhibit away from you. If I hadn't, the board would have put a total stranger in my place." She lowered her arms and stepped forward. She then placed a hand on his chest. "Think about it, Paul. I'm here for you, not some stranger. You should be thanking me, not leaving me.Paul moved Rhonda out of his way and walked into the hall. Smiling, he turned to face her. Seeing her face glow red with anger gave him a warm feeling inside.
"I'm not worried. I'm sure your intellect will make quick work of the seventy-five computer discs and thousands of pages of research I left in my office." With that, Paul turned and started down the hall. "You're going to regret this!" Rhonda yelled. "Oh, I don't think so," Paul answered. As he cut the corner, he could have sworn he heard a door slam and Rhonda yelp in pain.Making his way to the elevator, Paul couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt freer than he had in months. Hell, he felt like he could skip out of that building. True, he was going to have to find a new job and fast, but for now, he was going to enjoy his victory.
The elevator ride was quick. Paul swung his briefcase as he headed to his car. He whistled a happy tune as he reached the driver's side door. He was so happy he almost missed the shrill ring of his cell phone. Flipping it open, he crowed into the mouthpiece, "Hello?" "Paul Halliwell?" The seriousness of the voice broke through his euphoria. "Yes?" "Your brother, Philip, has been in an accident." * * * * * Paul's heart beat in quick succession as he sprinted into the hospital. He didn't know how he had gotten there so fast. He only knew it seemed his car had a mind of its own. He had willed it to go faster, and it had. Nothing could happen to Philip. Nothing. Grudge and sibling rivalries aside, he'd never forgive himself if something happened to his youngest brother. He had promised to protect both Parker and Philip when their father died and their mother left. He might have made it when he was eight, but he took it very seriously. The voice on the phone had said Philip would be all right, but Paul wouldn't believe that until he saw his brother himself. He pounced onto the front desk. "I'm looking for my brother, Philip Halliwell?" The bored nurse glanced at him. "One moment." She then turned back to the small female she had been speaking to. "What's the name again?" "Inspector Andrea Trudeau. Homicide. Dr. Gordon is expecting me." For the first time since he'd gotten there, Paul took a good look at the brunette standing next to him. Her hair was longer and her eyes weren't as bright, but he couldn't mistake the cheerleader he had lost his heart to. He inched closer to her. "Andi?" She met his eyes and he felt his heart do a flip. "Paul? I don't believe it. How are you?" Her smile lit up the room. "I'm good. How are you?" "Fine. I can't believe I'm running into you." Paul swallowed nervously. "Yeah, I'm picking up Philip. He had some kind of accident." Concern crossed Andrea's pretty features. "Is he all right?" "I hope so. They haven't told me anything yet," Paul replied, glancing hopefully at the nurse. He turned back to her. "What are you doing here?" "Murder investigation." The words settled heavily in the air. Paul shifted a little, not sure how he should respond to that. At that moment, the nurse caught his attention. "Your brother's still in x-ray so it'll be another fifteen minutes." She then looked at Andrea. "Dr. Gordon's office is to the left and down the hall. He's with a patient right now but you're free to wait outside his office." Both of them thanked the nurse and exchanged a grin with each other. Then Andrea held out her hand. "Well, it was good seeing you, Paul," she said as she shook his hand and turned to go. Something tightened in Paul's gut. He let her get away once, maybe he shouldn't let her go so soon. He touched her shoulder and she turned around. He smiled again. "You know, Philip's busy, Dr. Gordon's busy. Can I buy you a black cup of coffee while we wait?" he asked. Andrea's smile returned. "Sure." The two of them walked over to the coffee machine. Paul grabbed two Styrofoam cups and filled them with coffee. Handing one to Andrea, he cocked his head to the side. "So, you're an inspector now?" She took a sip of her coffee and made a face. "What can I say? In any other city I'd be called a detective." "Inspector's classier." They sauntered to the large windows at the far end of the room. Paul sipped his coffee and discovered why Andrea had made the face. It was more bitter than he liked, but he didn't expect much from a hospital waiting room. Paul continued, "Your dad must be proud." "Third generation. Even though I'm not the son he wanted, he's still thrilled his little girl is cleaning up the mean streets of San Francisco." Andrea tossed her hair over her shoulder. "How about you? You taking the world by storm?" Paul blushed and looked down at his stale coffee. "I'm living back at Gramp's house, and as of an hour ago, looking for work." He turned up the cup and forced the rest of the sludge down his throat. "Oh." Andrea stared out the window, sipping on her own cup of sludge. Paul tossed his empty cup into the nearest wastebasket. "I heard you moved to Portland," he said. "I'm back." She then met his eyes. Paul let out a mental sigh. After ten years he could still get lost in those hazel depths. "So, uh, you still seeing Rhonda?" The question caught him off guard. "How did you know about her?" She shrugged and turned back to the window. "I know people." "You checked up on me?" He leaned against the window. She looked at him, her eyes sparkling. "I wouldn't call it that." "What would you call it?" His voice sounded stern, but deep down inside, Paul was thrilled. Andrea was still interested? "Inquiring minds want to know." She finished off her coffee and chucked her cup. "What can I say? I'm a detective." Paul prepared to answer when the nurse interrupted him. "Sir, your brother is ready." He nodded his thanks and looked at Andrea again. "I've gotta go. And to answer your question, Rhonda's out of the picture." "Good." She nodded her head and headed down the opposite hall. "Wait, that's it?" Paul called after her. She glanced over her shoulder. "I'll see you later, Paul. Tell Philip I said hi." With that, she disappeared around the corner. Paul sighed and headed for the desk. Women! * * * * * "The Charmed Ones? Three brothers with the power to protect the innocent?" Paul peered at Philip over his beer. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head any harder?" The bar had been Philip's idea since they had to wait for his prescription anyway. It had been a long day so Paul didn't argue. Once they sat down, Philip told him everything from Warren Halliwell to the Charmed Ones to his vision. Paul absorbed the whole story without comment. Philip leaned against the bar, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. "Are you telling me nothing strange happened to you today? You didn't freeze time or move anything?" "Rhonda took an exhibit away from me." He sipped his beer. "Question is, why do you believe this?" "Why not?" Philip's brown eyes lit up. "It gives us a purpose. Something important to do. We're like superheroes, man." He met his brother's eyes. "I saved that kid today." "It was stupid throwing yourself in front of a moving vehicle, but you did seem to have a good reason." Paul chuckled. "Although, it is pretty ironic you think you can see the future." Philip sipped his cup of coffee and narrowed his eyes. "Why? Because you don't think I have one compared to your perfect hell?" "Phil, I didn't mean it like that." Philip stared at the murky blackness of his drink. "Can't you trust me for once?" Paul sighed. He had to admit the man sitting next to him wasn't the same one who ran off to New York, with visions of freedom and finding their absent mother in his head. No, this one was a little less reckless and a little more responsible. The old Philip would have never sacrificed himself for a kid on a skateboard. Paul patted him on the back. "I'll try, but man, I don't have special powers, and neither do you." Philip looked up, searching the table. He spotted something at the far end and smiled. "Could you hand me that cream?" "Sure." Paul leaned over, but couldn't reach it at all. He was about to stand up when the cream slid across the bar and into his open hand. Paul felt his jaw drop. "What the hell?" He held the cream for a while, staring at it, before he passed it to Philip. Philip's grin grew wider. "That looked pretty special to me." Paul looked at his beer in stunned silence. He didn't do that. He couldn't have. It was impossible. What if he tried again? He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on his own glass. It slid a couple of inches to the left. His head snapped up and he turned his glare on his brother. "I can move things with my mind?" he asked. It was Philip's turn to pat him on the back. "With what you hold inside, you're probably a lethal weapon by now." Paul clutched his glass. "I don't believe it." "Okay, so if you can move things and I can see the future, then Parker can freeze time." The excitement had returned to Philip's voice. Paul barely listened. He turned up his glass and chugged the rest of his beer. First, his career crumbled around his feet and now this. Then he remembered the shaking desk in his office and the slamming door when he left. What the hell happened to his perfectly normal life? He slammed the glass onto the wooden surface. "Paul, you okay?" He shook his head. "No, I'm not okay. You turned me into a witch." Philip held up both hands in surrender. "You were born one, man. We all were." * * * * Paul downed another beer. A witch. He, Parker, and Philip were witches. Had Gramps been a witch? Had their father been one, too? He tried to wrap his mind around the idea. He barely listened as Philip droned on about magic and spells and the ancestor he had found in the book. None of this made sense. It couldn't make sense. It couldn't even be real. Paul leaned towards the bartender to order another beer. He felt Philip grab his shoulder. "Um, Paul, I can't drive your car, and I think my prescription is ready," he said. Paul heaved a sigh and waved away the bartender. Philip was right. He would get them home, and then he would get smashed. Standing up, he dropped the money for the drinks on the table. Then he and Philip sauntered out onto the street. "Paul, there's something else I need to tell you about our abilities," Philip said as they started down the street. Paul raised an eyebrow, something in his brother's voice made him pay attention. Philip cleared his throat and continued. "When I was looking through the Book Of Shadows, I saw these wood carvings. They looked like something out of a Bosch painting. All these terrifying images of three men battling different incarnations of evil." "Evil fighting evil. That's a twist," Paul muttered. "Actually, a witch can be either good or evil. A good witch follows the Wiccan Rede. 'An it harm none, do what ye will.' A bad witch or a warlock has but one goal: to kill good witches and retain their powers. Unfortunately, they look like regular people. They could be anyone, anywhere." Paul stopped and looked his brother in the eyes. "What does this have to do with us?" he asked with a sigh. Philip shifted from foot to foot, cradling his broken arm. "Well, in the first wood carving, they were in the slumber, but in the second one, they were battling some kind of warlock. I think as long as we were in the dark about our powers we were safe. Not anymore." Paul felt a pull in his gut, as if someone had punched him. He gaped at Philip. "You waited to spring this on me now? After you apparently gave us powers?" He spotted the door to the drug store and marched to it. Swinging it open, he strode to the medicine aisle. Aspirin. He needed aspirin. He could already feel pain building in the center of his forehead. Magic was one thing. Throwing in evil monsters out to kill him was something completely different. It was turning out to be the worst day of his life. No. No. He was going to get drunk tonight, pass out, and discover none of this had ever happened. Paul nodded firmly. Yeah, the entire day would only be a nasty nightmare. He scanned the aisles, seeing every kind of medicine but aspirin. Frustrated, he turned to the pharmacy counter and saw Philip talking to the clerk. He turned back to the aisle. Where was the damn headache medicine? A few second later, he heard someone walk up behind him. "You okay, Paul?" He narrowed his eyes at Philip. "Headache," he growled. He turned back to the shelves. "Do you see the aspirin anywhere?" "You know, I dated a girl in New York who swore camomile tea was good for headaches," Philip said cheerily. Paul hoped his abilities didn't include heat vision, otherwise the shelf he was staring at would be in flames. Philip continued, completely oblivious to Paul's mood. "You know, I'm not afraid of our powers. Everyone inherits something from their family, right?" Paul rounded on him. "Yeah, money, antiques, a strong disposition. That's what normal people inherit." "Come on, man. Who wants to be normal when we can be special?" The fingers of Paul's right hand curled into a fist. His life was spinning out of control, and Philip was perfectly happy with this. And he still couldn't see any aspirin. He could see every other headache medicine known to man but the damn aspirin. "Man, it's not that bad," Philip said. Paul looked at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. "Look." He rounded on Philip again. "I have just found out that I'm a witch, that my brothers are witches, and that we have powers that will apparently unleash all forms of evil." He took a menacing step towards Philip. "Evil that is apparently going to come looking for us." Another step. Philip stood his ground. "So excuse me, Phil, but I'm not exactly in a homeopathic mood right now." Philip puffed out his chest. "Then move the headache out of your mind." Paul narrowed his eyes as he felt his anger burst wide open. A bottle of aspirin flew off the shelf and right by Philip's head. Paul caught it reflexively and stared at the bottle lying in his palm. "Dude, you move things when you're pissed," Philip stated. Paul's head shot up. "That's ridiculous." "Don't believe me?" Philip's eyebrows lifted in challenge. A smirk spread across his face. "Rhon-da." Three more bottles of aspirin sprang into the air. They landed with a clatter at Paul's feet. Philip's smirk turned into a genuine smile as he took in the collection in the floor. "That is so awesome!" He looked up. "How come you got one of the cool powers?" He leaned back against the shelf behind him. "Now let's talk about Mom and see what happens." Paul clenched his teeth again. "She's dead," he ground out. Philip shook his head. "Nope. She's not in New York anymore, but she's very much alive." Paul's eyes darkened at the mention of Victoria Bennett Halliwell. "She died the day she walked out on Dad." He could still see her face as clearly as he had the day she left. Her dark eyes focused solemnly on Paul as she clutched her suitcase. "Vicki, don't do this. We can work it out," he remembered his father say.Victoria didn't answer. She only held her head high and turned the doorknob. "Good-bye, Peter." With that, she walked out of her sons' lives forever.
Philip's voice brought Paul back to the present. "What are you talking about? She's always been a major button pusher for you. You're mad she's alive, you're mad I tried to find her, and you're mad I came back. Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom." Paul couldn't control it. An explosion built up inside of him, and he knew he had to let it out. He concentrated on the shelf behind Philip. All the bottles flew into the air at once. Philip ducked as they landed with a crash in the center of the aisle. Paul widened his eyes. Suddenly, his anger and his headache were gone. He felt calm for the first time since he picked Philip up. Philip stood, his eyes wide. His mouth dropped open as he surveyed the damage. "Feel better?" he asked. Paul smiled. "Yeah, actually." "The book said our powers would grow." Paul took in all the mess he had made. "Grow to what?" "Good question," Philip answered. The two men sauntered back to the counter and picked up Philip's prescription. Paul explained to the clerk that the shelf holding the headache medicine had fallen, leaving the bottles spread all over the aisle. She didn't answer, but he saw her shoulders slump. As they walked back to his car, Paul's good mood was dampened by a sudden thought. "Oh, no." Philip stopped short. "What? What's wrong?" Paul met his baby brother's eyes. "Parker. You know how hard it was for him to fit in in high school. He's not going to deal with this news well." "Oh, man. You're right. How do we tell him?" "I don't know. I just hope he's already found out." Next Chapter