can see why you like orbing," Piper said as
they reached the porch of The Manor. "It's...exciting."
"When you do it all the time," Leo said, "it
becomes just...very ordinary and normal."
"Orbing into Coit Tower at night when its closed and
looking out at the city's lights from its observation deck is not normal,"
Piper said, smiling.
"Maybe it isn't," Leo conceded. "But this is." He placed his hands on her shoulders, pulled
her towards him, and put his lips on hers.
No, she thought, I'm Holly Combs. Kissing Leo is not
normal, it's not what I should want him to do.
Then she felt his lips against hers. And now she was Piper Halliwell. And she did want him to kiss her.
The kiss was simple, not passionate. But it was long. And she felt everything that Piper Halliwell would feel with
Leo, everything the writers said she should feel, everything the episodes were
leading up to her feeling. It was all
there now. And she didn't want the kiss
But it did end. She
opened her eyes and as Leo released her she steadied herself against the
"Are you OK?" Leo asked.
"Uh...yes," she said, not sure that she really
was. "There must be something
special about how a whitelighter kisses."
"I would kiss you that way even if I wasn't a
whitelighter. Even if I was something
else," he said.
"Something else...like an actor?" The kiss had
triggered memories of her kissing Brian - kissing him as they were acting in
a Charmed scene - and she blurted out the words without thinking.
"An actor?" he asked, surprised.
"Oh...uh," she stammered. "Actors...act when they do love
scenes. They don't really, uh, feel
anything when they kiss. At least, uh,
"I feel everything when I kiss you," Leo
said. "Everything that's good and wonderful about you. And there's a lot
of that. More than I could have imagined anyone having."
Piper made a sound of contentment.
"That sounds even better than the lines the writers give you to say
"The writers?" Leo asked, confused.
"Oh, never mind that," she said, slipping her arm
under his. "Real life is just
naturally better at some things than fiction can ever be."
Leo turned around, opened the door and they walked inside
"How did your evening-" Prue started to ask, then
stopped as she saw Piper's face. "Oh, I guess I don't have to ask that
question, do I?"
"Uhmm," Piper said, giving her a look as she
did. "Did Phoebe get back from the
club?" she asked, avoiding Prue's comment.
"No," Prue said. "She called over an hour ago
and said she was about-"
The opening of the door interrupted her. Phoebe walked into the house, leaving the
door open behind her, staring blankly ahead of her.
"Phoebs, are you OK?" Piper asked.
Phoebe didn't reply.
She walked over to the sofa and sat down without acknowledging any of
"I..." she started to say, shook her head once
slowly, and looked up at them. "I
"Start at the beginning," Prue said, as Piper gave
Phoebe a glass of water.
"I...I'm not sure where the beginning is," she
said. She took a sip of the water and handed it back to Piper.
"I was walking down Webster, around the corner from the
club, and...I...think I heard someone... call for help. I went down that narrow street...uh, Pixley,
"Strangled? Who?" Leo asked.
"I...don't know... He may...I think...he was in the
"What did you do when you walked down the alley?"
Prue asked, firmly.
"I...think I saw a man. And then...I don't know.
I...remember my hands around his neck.
And that look on his face. That
look...of pleading for his life. That
look...of begging me not to kill him.
"And then...he slumped in my hands. And he was dead."
Phoebe looked at up Prue.
"How could I do this? How
could I kill someone? I don't understand..."
"Listen to me," Piper said, taking Phoebe's hands
in hers. "You didn't kill
anyone. You couldn't kill
"Not as Phoebe," she said, leaning closer to her
so that Leo wouldn't hear her.
"And certainly not as Alyssa,"
"But...I did," Phoebe said.
"Somehow...I did. And I
can't make believe I didn't...
"The police...I have to tell them...what I did. But...I
don't know...why I killed him."
"Stay with her," Prue said to Piper and Leo,
"and see what else she can tell you about what happened. I'm going to
drive over there and see what I can find out."
Half a dozen stars could be clearly seen in the sky as the moon's
crescent, off to one side, shone brightly above Fred Carlyle. The lights along the silhouette of the
TransAmerica Pyramid outlined the building as it pointed skyward against the
Carlyle had never much cared for the Pyramid, never liked
its inclusion in photographs and drawings of the city's skyline. He felt the Pyramid wasn't representative of
San Francisco, had no real connection to the city. Unlike, for example, the Empire State Building, whose art deco
design reflected the prevailing style in New York City when it was built.
But the Pyramid, Carlyle felt, represented nothing more than
just itself. Certainly not Chinatown
nor the Financial District, whose border between them it straddled. Nor the unique blend of Victorian and hilly
Bay Area charm that was the essence of the city. No, the Pyramid was merely some architect's artificial idea of
what San Francisco was all about.
Behind the Pyramid, the Bay Bridge to Oakland could be seen
stretching out into the water. The other
bridge, as Carlyle would call it.
Overshadowed by the Golden Gate's fame, it had neither the glamour nor
the romance of its sister bridge. A
real shame, Carlyle thought. It was
just as beautiful, especially if you had a spot from which you could see all of
its first span that connected San Francisco to Treasure Island.
Which you could see from the roof of the department store
where Carlyle was a buyer and where he now stood.
But Carlyle wasn't looking at the bridge, nor even at the
Pyramid. He wasn't looking at the moon
nor the stars.
He was looking at something in his mind. Something that haunted him, something that
overwhelmed him, something that would allow him no peace.
Carlyle began walking to the far side of the roof. The revolving lounge on the top floor of the
Hyatt Regency Hotel came into view. But
he paid it no attention as he kept walking and approached the concrete barrier
on the roof's perimeter.
As he felt his foot hit the barrier Carlyle stopped and
stared at it for a moment. Lifting his
left foot, he carefully and deliberately stepped over the barrier and plunged
to the sidewalk four stories below.
Prue parked the car on Filbert Street and walked back the
block to where the police cars, their lights flashing, stood.
"Prue, what are you doing here?" Morris asked as she approached him.
"I was driving back from the club and saw the police
cars. What happened?" she asked,
trying to sound innocent.
"A man was killed.
Strangled, the M.E. says."
"Who was he?" she asked.
"Preston Hammel," he answered. "From one of
the Bay Area's well-to-do families."
"Where there any pentagrams around the body?" she
"No, nothing strange about it. Except..."
"Except what?" she asked.
"Except that there were bruises around his head and shoulders. As
if he was hit repeatedly before he was strangled. A strangler doesn't normally
"It must have taken a strong man to do this," Prue
said, leading Morris on.
"Woman," Morris corrected her. "It looks like it was a woman who
killed him. We have a witness."
"The witness saw the woman kill him?" Prue asked, fearfully.
"No," he replied, "but she saw her crouching
over his body. She screamed and the
woman looked up at her and ran away.
The streetlamp was shining on the woman and the victim and she got a
good look at both of them. I have her
working with the Forensic Art Unit. We
should have a sketch pretty soon."
"Let me know if I can be of any help, Darryl,"
But I don't think you can help with this one."
Prue turned and headed back to the car. She didn't know what had really
happened. But she knew she had to keep
Phoebe away from the police until she did.
"The police have a witness who says she saw a woman at
the murder scene," Prue said as she came into the house.
"I told you...I strangled him," Phoebe said, the
pain in her voice tempered by confusion.
"What did she see?" Piper asked.
"The woman was crouching over the victim," Prue
said. "It could have been Phoebe trying to help the victim."
"Or it could have been the real killer," Piper
"Maybe, but we can't take the risk," Prue said.
"The police are working up a sketch of her. If it was Phoebe the witness saw the police will be here
"If Phoebe tells the police she strangled that
man," Piper said, "they'll lock her up. And with that witness the case will be closed. It'll be all over."
"Were you able to learn anything else?" Prue
"No," Leo said. "She just kept saying that
she strangled him. That's all she seems to remember."
"We have to get Phoebe out of here before the police
come," Prue said.
"Where can we take her?" Piper asked. "The
club is out. That'll be the next place
the police look after coming here.
"And they'd probably check next door, so that rules out
taking her to Dan."
"There's one place they don't know about," Prue
said. "Cindy." She pulled out her address book and picked
up the telephone.
"Cindy? Hi, it's Prue Halliwell."
"Oh, hi Prue," the voice on the other end of the
"Cindy, I need a favor. Phoebe witnessed a murder
tonight. We think the killer saw her and she may be in danger. We want to get
her away from The Manor. Can she sleep
by you tonight?"
"Uh...uh...my place is pretty sparse," Cindy said.
"It's a furnished apartment. But,
uh, the sofa opens into a bed. Uh,
sure, of course. Anything I can do to
help. Haven't you, uh, asked the police for protection?"
"Phoebe is in shock from what she saw," Prue
said. "We think it's best to wait
until tomorrow to say any more to the police.
In fact, if it's all right with you, Stuart will come too and stay with
her in case her shock wears off during the night. He can sleep on the floor."
"Uh, sure," Cindy said. "If he doesn't mind,
"Thanks. They'll be over in a few minutes," Prue
said and closed the phone.
"Stuart will have to stay with her," she said to
Piper, "to stop her from saying anything to Cindy about the murder. Drive
them over there and drop them off. We're
going to need the car here."
"Hello, Darryl," Prue said, opening the front
door. It was almost midnight and with Phoebe safely tucked away at Cindy's
apartment she was about to try to get some sleep.
"It seems I was wrong when I said you couldn't help
solve this murder," Morris said.
"You're not surprised to see me at this hour, are you, Prue?
"And you didn't just happen to be driving by the murder
scene earlier," he added.
"What do you want?" Prue asked, pointedly.
Morris pulled a paper from his pocket, unfolded it and
handed it to Prue. "Can I come
Prue stared at the drawing.
"Are you coming to arrest her?" Prue asked, staring coldly at Morris.
"I don't want to do this," he replied,
frustrated. "The captain grabbed
the sketch before I saw it. He distributed copies to every officer who was
around. They're all out looking for
her. She's better off coming with me
than if someone else finds her first and takes her in."
"Phoebe didn't kill anyone," Prue said, sternly.
"I want to believe that. You know I do."
Morris exhaled. "But right
now it's out of my hands. She has to come in for questioning." Prue
said nothing and just stared at Morris.
"Are you going to let me in?" he asked.
"She's not here," Prue said.
"Prue, don't make me get a search warrant," Morris
said. "Once someone recognizes that it's Phoebe the captain will come
after me for not pulling her in. He
knows that I know all of you very well."
Prue stared at Darryl, then opened the door for him to come
"She's still not here," Prue said as they headed
into the living room.
Morris looked around, walked into the kitchen and then into
the parlor. He walked back to the
staircase, then stopped, exhaled and turned around.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know," Prue lied, her look as icy as her
tone of voice.
"Look, Prue," Morris said, "I want to help
you. I want to help Phoebe. But I can't help if you don't let me bring
"And then what?" Prue asked, rhetorically.
"Have her sit in jail while the real murderer is free? No one will be
looking for him because you'll already have Phoebe.
"No thank you. I'll
find whoever killed that man. And if
you want to help Phoebe then just stay out of my way. And leave her, and me, alone."
Morris was silent for a moment. "It's only a matter of time before someone spots her,"
he said, exasperated, and walked towards the front door. As he opened it he turned back to Prue.
"This is the information on Preston Hammel, the man who
was killed," he said, handing Prue a sheet of paper he took out of his
jacket pocket. "I never gave this
"Thanks Darryl," she said and closed the door behind him.
"I told you it was a sparse apartment," Cindy
"It's fine," Stuart assured her.
"How are you doing?" she asked Phoebe. Phoebe looked at her and was about to say
something when Stuart interjected.
"Not too well," he said, stopping Phoebe before
she said anything.
"Is there anything that I can do for her?" Cindy
"She just needs rest and sleep," Stuart said.
"OK," Cindy said.
She started to take Phoebe's hand but then seemed to catch herself and
changed her mind.
"Then I won't keep Phoebe up," Cindy said. "I prepared the sofa for her. There's
an extra blanket and pillow for you so you can sleep on the floor. Just let me know if there's anything else
you need, not that there's much here."
"Thanks," Stuart said. "We appreciate everything you're doing for Phoebe. Good
"Good night," Cindy said. She gave Phoebe a curious look for a few
seconds and then went into her bedroom.
As Prue stepped on to the porch to pick up the morning
newspaper she noticed the car, with two men sitting in it, parked diagonally
across the street. Police, she
thought. They know it was Phoebe in the
She had read the information Morris had given her on Hammel
twice, hoping it would give her a clue as to who had killed him. In his late twenties, single, wealthy
family, attended Stanford, he enjoyed the San Francisco nightlife. But there was nothing there that would point
to anyone besides Phoebe. There was
only the witness - and Phoebe herself.
She stared at the car for a moment and was about to go back
inside when she heard another car pull up and saw Morris get out. He started coming up to the porch and Prue
turned and walked down the steps, meeting him halfway.
"Phoebe isn't here," she said.
"I know," Morris said, motioning slightly at the
car across the street. "Look Prue,
this is out of my hands. Belaccio has
the case, now. And he found a witness
who saw Hammel in the club last night.
He was a little drunk and Phoebe wouldn't let him have anything more to
drink and he didn't like it.
"So maybe she ran into him outside the club on her way
home and he started something. And
those bruises on the body. They could
have been from some martial arts chops.
Enough to give a woman an edge on him.
Being half drunk he wouldn't have put up much of a fight."
"Belaccio couldn't have made a better case against
Phoebe, himself," Prue said sarcastically.
"Prue, I'm just trying to show you what Phoebe is up
against," he said.
"Why aren't you on the case?" Prue asked.
"The captain switched me to this weird jumper
case," Morris said. "Married,
three children, good family life, good job.
Neighbors say there were no problems at home. And then last night he just walks off the roof of a building
"Maybe he was pushed," she said, without interest.
Morris shook his head.
"The departent store keeps the roof locked,” he said.
“The maintenance man said he seemed to be in a daze when he asked him for the
key. And no one else was around.
"And he left a note. That he couldn't live with himself
after what he did to her."
"Her?" Prue asked.
"The note didn't say who," Morris said. "But
from the rest of what he wrote he could have been referring to the girl who was
murdered in the Castro District Tuesday night.
Dina Badler. She was strangled.
"And she had bruises, similar to Hammel's."
Prue said, suddenly interested.
"Maybe this jumper had a dark side to him when he wasn't with his
"Hardly," Morris said. "He spent his free time volunteering at the youth center in
the Mission District, working with troubled teens."
"Youth center?" Prue asked. "The one on Van
"Yeah," Morris said. "You've been
"No. But Phoebe
has,” Prue said. “One of the leaders from the center was in the club one
night. He was telling Piper and Phoebe
about the need for volunteers to help at the center. So Phoebe spent a couple of hours there Tuesday afternoon.
"What's the jumper's name?"
"Fred Carlyle," Morris answered. "Prue, I'm not supposed to even be here
talking to you. Belaccio is a good cop
but he can be a bull. Your trying to
protect Phoebe will make things worse for her. If Phoebe turns herself in to me
I may still be able to help her."
"You're right, Darryl," Prue said, sharply. "You shouldn't be talking to
me." She turned, walked up the
steps and went inside.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Carlson Vaughn," Prue
said. Some computers sat on tables in
front of her. To her side, four
teenagers, three boys and one girl, were sitting on chairs in a semi-circle
facing a middle-aged man.
"That's me," the man said. "How can I help you?"
"My name is Shannen Doherty," she said, not wanting
Vaughn to connect her to Phoebe.
"I'm with Four-One-Five magazine.
I was hoping you could give me a few minutes of your time."
continue in just a bit," he said to the teens. He stood up and motioned to Prue to follow him into a small
"What can I do for you?" he asked. He sat down at his desk and Prue took the
chair opposite him.
"Fred Carlyle," she said. "From what I've
learned about him, what happened last night doesn't seem to make any
The chair creaked as Vaughn leaned back in it and shook his
head. "I don't understand it. It was such a shock."
"There has to be something else going on here,"
Prue said. "I want to find out what it is. Whether there was another side
to Carlyle that no one knew about. Or whether this wasn't just a
"You mean...murder?" Carlson asked. "But why?
Who would have wanted to hurt Fred? I...I couldn't understand that...any
more than I can understand his jumping off the roof.
"Fred was the most decent man you'd want to know. He
was a brother, a father...a friend to a dozen teens who come in here. He
had a good life and a good family. And he was dedicated to helping these
teenagers straighten out their lives so that they could have those things,
"Was he successful?" Prue asked.
Vaughn leaned forward in his chair, placing his arms on the desk. "Fred wouldn't give up on even the
hardest case. And that's mostly what we
get here. Whether because a judge sent
them, or a parent somehow forced them...these are kids who have no future,
whose lives are already dead-ends.
"These are lost souls. And Fred gave them a future. He
saved their lives."
Prue stared at Vaughn as she realized the meaning of what he
"He...saved their souls," she said, slowly.
"There has to be a demon involved somehow," Prue
said to Piper and Leo back at The Manor.
"A demon who goes after people who save souls and tries to destroy
them." She and Leo were standing
in the conservatory while Piper was sitting at the table.
"The demon must have come to that youth center and seen
what Fred Carlyle was doing," Prue continued. "He must have also come
the afternoon that Phoebe was there."
"She told me she was pretty sure one of the boys was
seriously thinking about what she told him," Piper said. "This demon must have overheard her
conversation with him. And then somehow made both Phoebe and Carlyle think that
they each murdered someone."
"To destroy them," Prue said, "so that they
would never save another soul. But
who's the demon? And how could he have made them think that way?"
"There are demons who can transfer their
memories," Leo said. "They can put them into someone else's head.
I've seen one do it myself."
"Who?" Prue asked.
"The demon was Orion," Leo answered.
"Let's see if he's in The Book of Shadows," Piper
said, getting up from the table to go to the attic.
Leo shook his head.
"He was vanquished by a witch four years ago," he
said. But there are
"If this demon had a memory of the girl being killed,
he could have transferred it to Carlyle," Piper said. "And done the
same thing to Phoebe with the memory of strangling Hammel."
"Which means that he's the one who killed them,"
"But how do we go after him?" Piper asked.
"We don't even know who he is."
"But...maybe Phoebe does," Prue said. "Maybe a single memory can't be
isolated...maybe memories are connected.
And when he transferred the memory of the murder to her it wasn't the only
memory he gave her. Maybe he can't block
out everything else and more of his memory than he realized got transferred
along with it."
"Like the memory of himself," Piper said.
"And it's somewhere in Phoebe's sub-conscious,"
"That's a lot of 'maybes'," Leo said.
"I know," Prue said. "But it's the only thing
we have that we can try."
"If more memories were transferred to Phoebe's
sub-conscious," Leo said, "you'll need a spell to make her remember
"Looking for one in The Book of Shadows will take us a
long time," Piper said.
"I know," Prue said. "You're going to
have make one up quickly without The Book."
"Me? I haven't done that before," Piper said.
"That's a power the writers gave...uh...that was given to
Prue turned Piper aside so that Leo could not hear her.
"This is your chance," she said to Piper in a low
voice, "to show your versatility and range as an actress. Stretch and play
the part of Phoebe."
"Show my range as an actress?" Piper said, and
squinted. "Show it to whom? It's not as if JP and Brad are going to
drop by to take notice of what I can do."
"Let's go into the living room, Leo," Prue said,
turning back to him, "and let Piper concentrate on the spell. You can tell me about Orion while we're
waiting. Maybe there's something about him that will help us with this
"Take the thoughts...
"Take the ideas...
"No," Piper said to herself. She had been sitting at the table trying to
come up with a spell for almost fifteen minutes. "Take the memories.
"But I have to test it." She sat up straight in the chair and took a
the memories buried in my head,
And let me
remember what was done and said."
silent for a moment. Then her eyes
darted from side to side as something started to come to her.
"Rome isn't Green Bay," she began. "Things are different here. And being the sheriff's daughter...means
that I'm different, too."
She stopped, her mouth half-open, her eyes squinting.
"No," she said. "This spell isn't any
good. Remembering my Kimberly Brock
dialogue from a five-year old Picket Fences episode is not the memory
I'm looking for."
Frustrated, Piper sighed and tried some more.
"Hmmm. Maybe..." she said after a few minutes.
thought I didn't know I had
placed inside my head,
Come out now
from my sub-conscious
remembered and said."
Piper stared ahead for a few seconds as something stirred
inside her mind.
"In a medium heavy saucepan," she began,
"...pour the water, caster sugar, and the juice of the lemon...mix
together and bring to a boil."
Piper tried to stop herself but more kept coming.
"Let simmer for three minutes, then put in the pears,
cover with a lid and let the fruits poach for five minutes, turning them upside
down once or twice. The Pear Belle-Hélène will-"
"OK, OK," she said, regaining control. "One of super chef Piper's
recipes. Something The Elders put
somewhere deep in my sub-conscious that I didn't know about. And likely along with
a lot of other things...that I'm probably better off not knowing are
Piper felt a feeling of satisfaction as she wrote the spell
down on a notepad.
"This spell seems to work," Piper said coming into
the living room. "I tried it out but I'll have to change a word or two to
get into Phoebe's sub-conscious."
"We have to get you to Cindy's apartment without the
police seeing you leave The Manor," Prue said. "One of them followed
me in his car this morning when I went to the youth center."
"There is a way to leave the house without them
knowing about it," Piper said, turning to Leo. "Looks like it's time
for you to take me orbing again."
"Don't orb into Cindy's apartment," Prue said.
"Right," Leo said. "We'll orb into the
Piper walked over to Leo and he put his arms around her.
"Ready?" he asked. Holding her tightly brought back all of last night's feelings -
but she wasn't complaining. She allowed
herself the moment's enjoyment and just nodded. The light came and they disappeared together.
"It's best if Cindy doesn't see you," Piper said.
Leo nodded his head in agreement.
"Good luck," he said and slowly orbed out. Piper walked up the stairs and knocked on
the apartment door.
"Piper," Stuart said, with relief, opening the
door. "Did you and Prue come up with anything?"
"We think so," Piper said. "Where's Cindy?"
"She went out a little while ago," Stuart said.
"Good," Piper said, and walked over to Phoebe who
was sitting on the bed.
"How are you doing?" she asked her.
"I still don't understand how I could have killed
him," Phoebe said. "Or
"You didn't," Piper said. "You didn't kill anyone. A demon killed Hammel and gave you his
memory of doing it."
"Who's the demon?" Stuart asked.
"I don't know," Piper said, "but if this
spell works Phoebe will tell us." She sat down on the bed and took
thoughts you didn't know you had
That a demon
placed inside your head,
Come out now
from your sub-conscious
And be remembered
Phoebe didn't move but after a moment her eyes focused and
she started to shake her head slowly.
"I...I didn't kill him," she said, and gave
a small sigh of relief. "Mordun...the demon's name is Mordun.
He...transferred his memory to me...so I would think I killed Hammel."
"And now you see that it wasn't you who killed
him," Piper said. "It was Mordun."
"No," Phoebe said, shaking her head again.
"It...it wasn't Mordun who killed him."
"What?!" Piper said. "It had to be
"No," Phoebe said. "It was...someone
"Who?" Stuart asked.
"I can see him," Phoebe said. "He's hitting Hammel. Now his hands are around his neck...wiry, in
his late thirties...medium height, brown hair...with a distant look in his
eyes. And...a scar under his right
"What's his name?" Piper asked.
"Dinky," Phoebe said. "That's what he's
called. Maybe it's a nickname.
"And...I see him strangling a girl."
"That must be Dina Badler, the girl who was killed
Tuesday night," Piper said. "The one Carlyle thought he had
"Carlyle?" Phoebe asked. "Fred Carlyle,"
she said slowly, staring ahead. "He's...at the youth center. And...Mordun
found him and...transferred his memory to him."
"Mordun must have the power to transfer memories to
himself, too," Piper said.
"He must have transferred this Dinky's memory of killing the girl
to himself first and then to Carlyle," Piper said. "But how does he know to be where Dinky
is going to kill someone?"
"He...transferred his memory of a place to Dinky,"
Phoebe said. "And then the memory of someone to kill. And the feeling
of...of how it feels to kill someone. And Dinky...he's excited...and he does
"How does Mordun find Dinky?" Stuart asked.
"He finds him...on streets where he...hangs out. I don't
know where...I don't recognize the neighborhood."
"Now that Phoebe knows what really happened she can
tell the police," Stuart said.
"And have them look for a demon?" Piper asked. "We have to find Mordun and stop him before anyone
else is killed. I'm going back to The
Manor. Stay here until we come up with a plan."
"Mordun targeted Carlyle and Phoebe from the youth
center," Prue said. "So he must be dropping in there in the
afternoons looking for people who are saving souls."
"And we can find him there," Piper said. "If
we knew what he looked like."
"He knows what Phoebe looks like," Prue said. "Maybe she can flush him out if we set
up a scene."
"We'll have to look through The Book of Shadows for a
spell to vanquish him," Piper said.
The light began to form in the living room and Leo orbed in.
"I have it," he said, handing Prue a sheet of
"You don't have to go through The Book of
Shadows," Leo said, pointing to the paper. "You have the spell.
This is the one that was used to vanquish Orion. I got it from Lindsay Pearson, the witch who
made it up. It will work on Mordun
because he's the same kind of demon as Orion was."
"It's nice to have some witch connections, for a
change," Piper mused. "But
what I don't understand is why didn't Mordun transfer a memory of Carlyle, or
Phoebe, to Dinky and let him kill them."
"Transferring the memory of a place as a suggestive
thought of where to go is one thing," Leo said. "But to get someone
to kill that way is another. A person
always has a choice between doing good and evil. Mordun had no guarantee that Dinky would kill them or anyone else
in Mordun's transferred memory.
"And there's another reason," Leo continued. "Demons who can transfer memories not
only want to destroy good people but want to see these people destroy
themselves. Having Dinky kill them
would deprive him of that."
"Even though Mordun targeted Phoebe," Prue said,
"her coming by the alley and being seen by that witness were just luck. He
couldn't have known that would happen."
"He didn't need it to happen," Piper said. "Mordun could have followed Phoebe and
transferred those memories to her anywhere.
They were enough to make here think she killed Hammel. Having the police arrest her would have just
been a bonus."
"Or maybe the call for help Phoebe heard wasn't
real," Leo said. "It could have been only a memory from Mordun to get
her into the alley."
"We'd better get moving," Prue said. "I'll
call Phoebe and tell her what to do."
Prue and Piper were walking up Van Ness the half a block
from where they had parked to the youth center when a car pulled up beside them
and Morris jumped out. He stared at
Prue and Piper for a second and exhaled.
"Someone spotted Phoebe in the youth center and called
the precinct," he said. "I heard it come over the radio. Belaccio is
on his way over here. Let me get Phoebe before he does."
"Someone just happened to spot her and called
the police?" Prue asked. "How convenient."
She gave Morris a steely look and then turned to Piper.
"Go ahead inside," she said to her. "I'll talk to Darryl."
"There's nothing to talk about, Prue," Morris
said, as Piper opened the door. "I don't know what you're up to. But if
you don't let me take Phoebe in Belaccio will."
"You can't take Phoebe in," Prue said.
"You have to let us finish this, Darryl.
And you have to stop Belaccio from taking her."
"Stop him?" Morris asked. "How am I supposed
to do that?"
"Anyway you can," Prue said, "but you can't
let him go inside."
"Damn it, Prue. You're asking me to put my badge in
"And if Belaccio stops us people's lives will be
in jeopardy," Prue said.
"People like Dina Badler.
People like Preston Hammel."
She stopped, hesitated and took a deep breath.
"The one you're looking for," she said, "is
in his late thirties, wiry, medium height, brown hair, with a scar under his
right ear. He has a distant look in his
eyes. He's called Dinky. Phoebe described him."
"Phoebe...she saw the killer?" Morris asked.
Prue looked straight at Morris. "The killer's memory
was transferred to her," she said.
"Transferred?! Memory can't be transferred!"
Morris exclaimed and stared at Prue for a moment.
"No!" he said. "Don't use the d-word!"
Prue hesitated for a second. "The same thing happened to Carlyle," she
continued. "He had the killer's
memory of killing Badler. A full,
detailed memory with all of the feelings and sensations of the killing. And of the victim's struggle and succumbing
in his hands. That's why he thought he
had killed her even though it made no sense that he would do that. That's why he jumped off the roof. He couldn't fight the vivid memory of-"
unmarked car, it's cherry light flashing but its siren off, screeched to the
"What are you doing here, Morris?" he asked before
he was halfway out of the car. He was
in his late forties, a couple of inches under six feet in height, broad and
heavy. A cop right out of central
casting, Prue thought. "This is my
case, now. You're off of it and you know
"I'm still on the Badler case, Belaccio," Morris
said. "And it's connected to
Hammel. I got a tip. The same person is involved in both murders.
We're looking for a wiry man in his late thirties, medium height, brown hair,
scar under his right ear. A distant look in his eyes. Called-"
"Dinky," Belaccio said.
"You know him?" Morris asked.
"Yeah," Belaccio said. "I know that psychotic creep. I've pulled him in a few times for assault. He likes to knock
people around. Even booked him once on
suspicion of murder but he walked.
"How reliable is your tip?"
Morris hesitated for a second.
"Very," he said. "You know where to look for
"I know where he hangs out," Belaccio replied.
"I'll find him after I take in Halliwell."
Morris took a deep breath. "She's gone," he said.
"I already checked."
Belaccio silently eyed Morris for a moment. Prue, standing off to the side, couldn't
tell from Belaccio's face what he was thinking.
"I'll go pick up Dinky," Belaccio finally
said. "If he's involved, the
sooner he's off the streets isn't soon enough."
Belaccio got back into his car and drove off, this time with
the siren on. Morris turned to Prue and
they stared at each other without either saying a word. And after five seconds, there wasn't
anything that still needed to be said.
Prue turned around and went inside the youth center.
"Sometimes we have demons inside of us, making us think
the worst of ourselves. Making us think
that we've done the most terrible things and that life isn't worth living
Phoebe was speaking, sitting in a chair in the center of the
room. Three girls sitting in a
semi-circle opposite her were listening to her carefully. So was a boy, standing and leaning against
the wall. Three adult men across the
room were also intently listening to what she was saying.
"And that's when we have to remember that life is always
worth living," she continued.
"That life is hope. That
life is possibilities. The possibility
of making ourselves better. The possibility
of finding our souls.
"What we've done is never as bad as our demons tell us
they are. And no matter what we've done, we can make something of
ourselves. We just have to want to. And there are lots of good people
around to help us do just that."
"Hello Mr. Vaughn," Prue said.
"Hello again, Ms. Doherty," he said. "Back
for more material for your magazine story?"
"In a way," she said. "Tell me, has there been anyone, besides teenagers, who's
been dropping in afternoons this week?"
"It's not unusual for people to drop in," he
said. "Sometimes they're looking
for a boy or a girl who hasn't been home for a while, hoping they'll find him
or her here. Sometimes they come just to see what we do here."
"Anyone who's been coming in regularly this week? Say,
the last three days?" she asked.
"Well...um, two of those men standing across the
room," he said, pointing to the ones listening to Phoebe. "They've both been here this week but I
can't tell you for sure which days they were here. How are they connected to
"I'm not sure yet," she said. "Did you notice
if either one made a telephone call in the last half-hour?"
"Uh...actually, yes," Vaughn said. "They both did. The one in the tan
jacket asked me if he could use the phone in my office. And then
a few minutes later the one in the black shirt asked me, too. How did you know?"
"Reporter's confidential sources," Prue said.
Prue walked towards Phoebe and catching her attention,
motioned towards the men across the room. Phoebe stood up and started walking
"And we each have our own powers," she said aloud,
looking straight at all three men. "Powers we can use to identify and
vanquish the demons of our minds."
The three men watched Phoebe getting closer to them. Then the one in the black shirt gave her a
cold stare, turned and started to walk away.
When he saw Prue looking at him and walking towards him and saw Piper
and Stuart coming towards him from the other side, he turned and hurried
towards a small corridor that went to the back of the center.
A door at the end of the corridor led to a back exit and as
he opened it Prue waved her hand at him and sent him flying outside into a
small enclosed alleyway. A locked gate at its end led to the street. He looked up at the gate, then turned back
to face them.
"It's not just you, I see." he said to
Phoebe. "You're all witches."
"Yes, we are Mordun," Phoebe said.
"You know who I am. And you overcame Dinky's memories
that I gave you," he said, amazed.
"And we're going to stop you from doing that to anyone
again," Phoebe said.
"Think so?" he said. "Think again. And
I'll give you just what to think."
He was silent for a second, then turned his head quickly from one side
of the alley to the other, looking at each of them as he did.
"AGGHHH!" Phoebe screamed. She squeezed her eyes
shut, threw her hands up to the sides of her head and fell to her knees.
"AGGHH...AGGHH..." Stuart started to quiver and
shake, his eyes and mouth wide open in fear.
Their minds were filled with the image of a dungeon, their
hands chained to its wall. And
creatures, nightmare creatures unlike any they had ever seen, were clawing at
A smile crossed Mordun's face as he saw their torture. But the smile quickly turned to shock when
he looked at Piper and Prue, standing with neither pain nor fear, holding a
paper in their hands.
memories of the mind,
Be gone to a
place no one will ever find."
Mordun started to shake and scream. Then, in a flash, he was
Prue put the paper into her pocket and rushed to Stuart as
Piper ran over to Phoebe.
"It's OK," Prue said to him, throwing her arms
around him and holding him. "It's not real. It isn't happening to you.
It's only in your mind."
"You're all right," Piper said as she held
Phoebe. "It's Mordun's
thoughts. None of it is real. Just like
Dinky's thoughts weren't real."
Stuart was crying and shaking from fear and he squeezed Prue
tightly. Piper held Phoebe and rocked
her gently back and forth. After a few
of minutes, they both were able to regain control of their minds and began to
"Why weren't you affected by Mordun's memories?"
Stuart asked, still breathing heavily.
"When Lindsay gave Leo the spell for vanquishing Mordun,"
Prue said, "she also gave him the formula for a potion to block out any
memories he'd try to transfer to us. We
had barely enough of the ingredients, and enough time, to make two portions of
"Forgive us for letting you go through all of
that," Piper said. "But we
had to use the potion ourselves to be sure that either Prue or I would be able
to withstand Mordun's memories and cast the spell."
"It's OK," Phoebe said, her breathing almost back
to normal. "It was the right thing to do. Mordun had to be
"I understand now what Carlyle, and Phoebe, were
feeling," Stuart said. "The
memories of wherever that place was, that Mordun had taken from whoever was
being tortured there and given us... They were as real as any memory I have of
anything I've ever done."
"Thank you for saving me...from myself," Phoebe
"If only we could have saved Carlyle, too," Piper
"We didn't save him," Phoebe said. "But there are others that can be
saved. Carlyle left some unfinished business inside. Excuse me while I have a talk with a few teens and try to
complete, at least with them, what he started."
"That was Morris," Prue said, putting away the
cell phone. "A hair they found on Dinky's shirt matched Badler's. And they
found Hammel's gold watch in his apartment. And someone who was at the club
last night remembers seeing Dinky in the area when she went home.
"They still want Phoebe to come in but only to get her
statement of what she saw. She's not a suspect anymore."
"Good," Stuart said. "We can stop hiding here and go home. That is, as soon as Phoebe finishes talking
to Vaughn. He was quite impressed with
her. I think he's trying to convince
her to come again."
"That was more Alyssa talking to those kids than it was
Phoebe," Prue said. "She does
have an ability to communicate with them."
Stuart saw an uncomfortable look on Piper's face.
"What's wrong?" he asked her.
Piper hesitated and exhaled.
"Did we really do the right thing?" she
asked. "We gave the police Dinky
just like that. Mordun was really the
one behind the murders."
"How could we have not given him to them?"
Prue asked. "He killed Badler and Hammel."
"We don't know that he would have killed them, or
anyone, without Mordun giving him those memories," Piper said. "He was under the influence of a
"And we don't know that he wouldn't have killed
them," Prue said. "Dinky has
a history of assaults and felonies. Maybe even a murder. And Mordun's influence
only encouraged him to kill them. He didn't, and couldn't, force him to
do it. Dinky still had a choice."
"That's just it," Piper said. "We don't know
what he would have done on his own. And we didn't tell the police what his
circumstances really were."
"We couldn't exactly tell them that a demon was orchestrating
the murders," Stuart said.
"I know," Piper said. "But it still feels
like...like we took a shortcut. We judged that Dinky would have killed on his
own. And we gave him to the police to punish without their consideration of the
true facts. It's not our characters' job to judge people and decide their
punishment...only to stop the demons."
"This isn't Charmed," Prue said, taking Piper's
hand. "And this isn't a script that ties everything up neatly at the end
of the hour, and that conforms to Charmed's bible about what our characters
"Then what about ourselves," Piper said.
"What about what Shannen Doherty and Holly Combs should do?
We can't forget - we can't lose - our own morals, our own sense of what's
"It's real life," Prue said. "We can't write
it to be the exact way we want it all to work out. We tried to do the best that we could."
Piper was silent for a moment and then sighed.
"I'd feel better if I knew that we really did do
the best that we could," she said.
She paused and looked at Prue silently for a few seconds.
"But did we?" Piper asked.