The Flames of Irony

When Emma finally got to Charmed 15 minutes late, she skidded to a stop. The store front was gone, now lying in shattered pieces of glass on the ground. A few curious onlookers eyed Emma curiously as she approached, but no one stopped her from gingerly picking through the glass and going through the now-useless doorframe. The inside of the shop was even worse: smashed potion bottles spilling noxious liquids everywhere, crystal beads laying shattered on the floor, and the books pulled from every shelf. Pages fluttered around in the outside air, priceless writings on the most arcane of spells lost forever. A dove that had come loose from its cage flapped freely. Emma winced as she came across an ancient tome covered in potion.

"Are you Emma Monfort?" a shrill voice suddenly demanded. Emma whirled to find a woman with straggly hair rising from a crouch in the furthest corner of the shop. "Are you?" she repeated when Emma stayed quiet. Emma nodded. Was the woman the one who had ransacked the shop? Or was she a random homeless person? "You're a witch," the woman declared. Instantly Emma reached for a shard of glass to defend herself with. There was usually only one reason why a person sought out a witch: to kill them. The woman made no move to attack, though. "Can you find someone?" she asked. That was unexpected. Emma cocked her head to the side, only fractionally less wary. "Who? And how did you find me?" The woman waved aside the second question. "My daughter, Diana. She's only ten- here, I have a photo." Emma tensed as the woman reached into her pocket, but all she pulled out was a wrinkled paper, which she thrust forward. "Here."

"Did you break into the shop?" Emma demanded, ignoring the proffered photo. Diana's mother set her chin stubbornly. "I was looking for a spell or charm in here. Asking you was a last resort. Everyone told me you're a snobbish brat. I didn't think you would help." Snobbish brat? That stung. No, Emma didn't exactly go out of her way to make friends, but snobby? "So you broke into my shop, destroyed everything, and now you expect my help?" This woman might actually have been insane. Maybe her daughter's disappearance had cracked her. "I broke into your shop because I knew you wouldn't help. But please, find Diana. If not for my sake, then for hers." She shoved the paper forward again, and Emma reluctantly took it.

Diana was a freckle-covered little girl with scabs and bug bites all over. She was grinning in the picture, showing her missing front teeth. Her face was so happy, so open and sweet. When had Emma stopped looking that happy? When was the last time she had truly smiled? And now Diana may never grin like that again. Sighing, Emma set down the photo and grabbed the broom in the corner of the shop. "What are you doing?" the woman asked, watching her sweep. Emma pointed the end of the broom at her. "You want my help? I have to clean up your mess first. There's another broom in the back. Get to work." The woman eagerly began cleaning up. When Emma heard police sirens coming to investigate the break-in, she led her unlikely companion to her apartment.

Now can we look for my daughter?" the woman asked, watching as Emma pulled a large bowl out of a cabinet. Emma shook her head, remembering what he had told her long ago. "Don't look; see."