Be Careful What You Wish For

by Evangeline Anderson

  “But it’s not even your fault,” Cass protested before she thought about it. “I mean, not that I want to see Phil get punished. Hell—nobody should get punished. Even if you would have gotten those calls, we still couldn’t have gotten here any sooner.”

  “I know that.” O’Shea looked grim. “And I would dearly love to know who was responsible both for changing the judge who is seeing our case and for moving the court date up thirty minutes. Possibly someone who also knows that I always plan to get my clients to the court house fifteen to thirty minutes ahead of time in order to avoid this sort of faux pas.”

  “Wait a minute—are you saying that someone did this on purpose?” Cass walked a little quicker so that she was almost beside him instead of trailing behind.

  “All I’m saying is that this is most irregular. Court dates and times are not changed an hour before they are scheduled.”

  He pronounced “scheduled” the British way, with a sh instead of a sk and Cass couldn’t help thinking that his deep voice would be nice if he wasn’t always making sarcastic remarks.

  “So what you’re saying is—” she began but just then O’Shea came to such a sudden halt that she nearly ran into the back of his broad shoulder.

  “What I’m saying is we’re here.” He gave her a penetrating glance. “Remember—courtroom protocol at all times, please, ladies.”

  Cass looked up to see that they were standing in front of a large set of double wooden doors that apparently led into a courtroom. Well at least we didn’t have to ride one of those hovering footstools to get here, she thought.

  There was a bored looking attendant with pale purple skin standing to one side of the doors. Beside the attendant was a small folding table with clear plastic-looking face masks made to cover the nose and mouth of the wearer.

  “Counselor Jacobin O’Shea with my clients the Swann sisters reporting to Judge Rosinbloom’s court,” O’Shea said formally as the attendant checked their names off a clipboard. “We were unavoidably delayed and didn’t get the message that our time had been moved up. Will the judge still see us?”

  The attendant glanced at her watch. “Just barely, Counselor. She gave instructions that you were to be let in if you came by ten after nine but not a moment later. Better hurry, it’s nine-o-five right now.” She nodded at the clear face masks on the table beside her. “Care for a filter? It’s her growing season and the pollen count is at an all time high right now.”

  “No thank you,” O’Shea said briskly. “My people are high elves so I am not susceptible to any natural substances. But perhaps for my clients…” He glanced back at Cass and her sisters and Nana. “Are any of you weakened or made ill when you inhale large quantities of pollen? I know many humans are prey to such an affliction. What do you call it?”

  “Allergies,” Rory said. “And mine are pretty bad. Just pollen though, not animal hair or I’d be in trouble.”

  “She wants to be a vet,” Phil explained. “Rory, you’d better wear a mask. In fact, we probably all should just in case.”

  “Very well—quickly please.” He picked up a mask from the table and held it out to Cass who took it doubtfully.

  “There aren’t any straps to hold it in place,” she said, turning the clear plastic-like mask in her hands.

  “Here, we’re running out of time.” O’Shea took the mask back and suddenly his large hand was on the back of her neck, under the riot of coal black curls she hadn’t gotten a chance to brush before being dragged out of the house that morning. He held her firmly in place and Cass started to protest but before she could, he had pressed the mask to her face so that it fit over her nose and mouth. She felt a strange sucking sensation and when he took his hand away, the mask stayed on, apparently having adhered to her face.

  “What is this?” Cass asked, surprised to hear her voice coming out normally despite the filter mask. Or as normal as it currently sounded since she was still very hoarse. She could breathe perfectly well too which was surprising since there didn’t appear to be any air holes anywhere in the contraption currently stuck to her face.

  “Time to go,” O’Shea said without answering. “Right now. Ladies, if you please.” He gestured at the attendant who had just finished fitting Nana with a filter mask, Phil and Rory having managed their own. The attendant nodded and grabbed the long, vertical brass handle on one side of the thick wooden doors and swung it open.

  “Good luck,” she said under her breath. “You’re going to need it.”

  Nine

  Cass didn’t know what she had expected to see when the door opened—something from the set of a TV legal drama maybe, with lots of dark wood and polished brass and a stern looking white haired Wapner-esque Judge sitting at a high podium with a gavel in his hand and a scowl on his face.

  What she saw instead as they walked into Judge Rosinbloom’s courtroom was…a garden. But like no garden she had ever seen before.

  There was a large grassy field filled with every imaginable flower—violets, daisies, gardenias, and a great many more Cass couldn’t name, including every variety and color of rose imaginable. It all appeared fairly normal (if having an English garden in the middle of a courtroom could be considered normal) except for the chairs and tables.

  Cass didn’t even know if you could call them chairs to be honest—they were more like flowers grown to huge sizes and placed at the right height to sit on. Up ahead on the left she saw an armchair-sized pansy and a row of futon-sized Gerbera daisies in bright shades of pink and purple. There was a large rectangular flat-topped toadstool in front of them that seemed to serve as a table.

  To the right of the courtroom was a similar arrangement of petunias and at the front where the judge’s podium should have been was a beautiful deep red rose in full bloom as big as a Buick. Far in the corner of the court a yellow and black striped bumble bee as large as a Great Dane buzzed quietly to itself.

  The air was golden with pollen which appeared to be falling like snow and Cass was glad for the filter mask. Breathing in here would have been impossible without it.

  Their fairy godmother, Lucinda LaFleur, was already present, Cass saw. She was sitting on one of the petunia chairs on the right side of the room, her pale mother-of-pearl wings fanning the pollen in the air slowly. She was over a thousand in fairy years but except for her wings and her silver eyes, she appeared to be an anorexicly thin blond woman in her mid forties.

  She was dressed, as always, in a pale pink outfit that looked like Prada, or whatever the fairy version of Prada was, and she was laughing and giggling with another middle-aged fairy who was seated beside her on another giant pansy.

  To their right sat a tiny woman no more than four feet high with a shriveled apple of a face and bright blue eyes. Her thin brown hair was pulled back into a scanty bun at the nape of her neck and she was wearing a severely cut brown skirt and jacket that seemed to have been designed to be as ugly as possible.

  “But you wouldn’t believe what he said when I told him,” the fairy seated beside their fairy godmother said. She had pale green wings that looked more like a moth’s than a butterfly’s and her hair was blond with a distinctly greenish tinge. The long green robe she was wearing accented her hair and Cass was betting that if she turned around, her eyes would be green too.

  “Tell me,” their fairy godmother said breathlessly. “You always were so bad, Glinda. I can’t believe the things you get away with.”

  “Well I was the naughty one back when we attended finishing school together,” the green haired fairy giggled. “But you know, Lucinda, I don’t think age has slowed me down a bit. I’m every bit as likely to get into trouble now that I’m a thousand as I was back when I was two hundred.”

  “You’re fifteen hundred if you’re a day,” their fairy godmother said, shaking one long thin manicured finger at the green fairy. “But who’s counting? You’ll always look five hundred in my book.”

  “Aren’t you a sweetie?” The green haired fairy trilled.
“I’m so glad we had this time to catch up because I’ve been wondering what ever happened to you. Now I just—”

  Just as Cass was wondering where the judge was and how long she could stand to hear the FG natter on about her misspent youth, O’Shea cleared his throat loudly.

  “Ahem.” He waited for the three women sitting on the pansies to turn around before saying, “Counselor O’Shea and my clients the Swann sisters reporting to your courtroom for the case of the Swann sisters versus their fairy godmother, Judge Rosinbloom.”

  “Oh, so you’ve finally decided to make an appearance, have you?” The green haired fairy flapped her wings, causing a whirl-wind of pollen, and rose suddenly to hover in the air above them. Sure enough, she had eyes as green as poison and they were narrowed in dislike as she stared at Cass and her sisters and Nana.

  Oh my God! Cass thought dismally. Is the FG’s old school friend the judge?

  “My deepest and most sincere apologies for our tardiness, your Honor,” O’Shea replied blandly. “We were unavoidably detained and our court time was moved without my knowledge or approval. However, we are ready to proceed at your Honor’s pleasure.”

  “Actually, it is my very deep displeasure to try a case like this in my court, but let’s get on with it.”

  The green haired fairy who was apparently Judge Rosinbloom flew quickly to the Buick-sized rose and settled herself right in the center of its deep crimson petals. O’Shea seated himself on the armchair sized pansy to the left of the courtroom and gestured for Cass and her sisters and Nana to have seats on the huge Gerbera daisies.

  Sitting on a daisy wasn’t so bad, Cass found, except that the huge petals were waxy and slick and she had to concentrate on not sliding off onto the grassy floor. When they were all seated, the judge nodded stiffly.

  “Very well, let’s proceed. Bailiff?”

  Judge Rosinbloom turned and motioned to the corner of the room. The Great Dane-sized bumble bee came forward making Cass distinctly nervous. She wasn’t allergic to bee stings but this particular bee had a long, barbed stinger the size of a harpoon. Sitting on the other side of Phil and Rory, she heard Nana gasp and remembered that her grandmother didn’t like insects either.

  Of course, I don’t know many people who would like a bee as big as a small horse, Cass thought to herself. Except, apparently, Judge Rosinbloom.

  “Now,” the Judge continued, breaking her train of thought. “Do you all swear to tell the truth on pain of being stung?”

  The bee bailiff buzzed a little closer to their toadstool table and O’Shea said, “Yes, your Honor, we do.”

  The gnome-like woman in the ugly brown suit who appeared to be their fairy godmother’s lawyer said the same.

  “Very well.” Apparently from mid-air, Judge Rosinbloom produced a pair of green horn-rimmed spectacles and put them on. “Now then, I have already heard Lucinda’s part of this little fiasco and I have to say from the start that I think this whole thing is just one big misunderstanding. Girls,” she said, fixing Cass and her sisters with a stern look. “I have known Lucinda LaFleur since we were little girls of less than a hundred and I am certain that she would never be guilty of these ridiculous accusations.”

  “Your Honor.” O’Shea was on his feet at once, a fierce light shining in his leaf green eyes. “Permission to approach the rose,” he said in a steely voice.

  “Granted,” Judge Rosinbloom said, frowning. “But make it quick, Counselor, I’m ready to give my ruling.”

  What? Cass gave her an incredulous glance. How the hell is she supposed to hand down a ruling when she hasn’t heard the case yet?

  From the worried look on Phil’s face, she could tell the same thought was on her older sister’s mind as well.

  Cass wanted to say something in the worst way but the expression in her older sister’s eyes and the subtle but menacing buzz of the giant bee convinced her it wasn’t a good idea. She kept her mouth shut and dug her toes into the lush green turf of the floor in exasperation.

  O’Shea stood and brushed off the small piles of golden pollen that had gathered on the shoulders of his white shirt before stepping forward to the humongous rose where the judge was sitting.

  “Your Honor, if I may,” he said in a low voice.

  “Yes, Counselor?” Judge Rosinbloom rapped out impatiently. “Please be brief. We started these proceedings late and this court does not have all day.”

  “Your Honor,” O’Shea said, “I would like to suggest that you recuse yourself from the further proceedings of this case due to an obvious conflict of interest.”

  “Conflict?” The judge raised her eyebrows and looked down her long thin nose at him. “I see no conflict, Counselor. What are you talking about?”

  “If it please your Honor,” O’Shea said icily. “Your Honor has just admitted to being a childhood friend of the defendant and you appear to have come to a decision without hearing any of my clients’ evidence.”

  Judge Rosinbloom frowned severely.

  “I have come to a decision based on the facts as they were presented to me.”

  “May it please your Honor, no facts have been presented as yet. That is the purpose of this hearing which has not yet been conducted.” The muscles on the side of O’Shea’s strong jaw were bunched in apparent irritation but he managed to keep his deep voice level and calm.

  “Counselor O’Shea, I will have you know that you and your clients are all this close to being held in contempt.”

  Judge Rosinbloom held her thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart and Cass saw that even her fingernails were poison green. The huge bee buzzed a little closer as though waiting for the order to sting and she heard Nana gasp again before the judge continued.

  “Now Lucinda has spoken to me of the dreadful ingratitude of your clients and their —”

  “Her last wish for my client, Philomena Swann, turned into a curse, your Honor,” O’Shea interrupted. Cass could see the muscles of his broad back flexing with tension under the crisp white shirt.

  “Objection.” The tiny gnome-like woman that had been sitting on the other side of their fairy godmother rose. “Your Honor, as it was explained to you earlier, if not for the Swann sisters’ complete mismanagement of my client’s magical wish granting ability there would never have been any such problem.”

  “It is a fairy godmother’s duty to see that her magic is used properly and that the wishes she grants don’t become a detriment to her godchildren,” O’Shea thundered, turning to glare at the FG and her attorney. “Your client, Counselor Fartooth, has failed in her responsibilities again and again, forcing my clients to live with the uncomfortable and sometimes dangerous results of her badly performed magic for years.”

  “Enough!”

  There was a clap of thunder overhead and a sudden drenching rain fell on everyone but the judge for five seconds. Apparently it was her version of banging the gavel.

  “I have heard as much as I care to,” Judge Rosinbloom declared. She leaned forward on the rose and fixed O’Shea with an icy glare. “You seem to take a very eager interest in these little human girls, Counselor,” she sneered. “I wouldn’t think a Spell-singer such as yourself would stoop to taking such a case. Did you solicit them as clients?”

  O’Shea, who was now dripping from the sudden rain shower as they all were, frowned.

  “Certainly not. I do a number of Pro Bono cases in the course of my work and they were assigned to me by the court.”

  “Very well.” The Judge smiled sweetly. “Then it is the ruling of this court that you will continue to follow this case. I am not in any way convinced of any wrong doing or negligence on the part of the defendant.” She nodded at their fairy godmother who gave her a simpering smile that turned Cass’s stomach. “But since you are so eager to see that justice prevails for your clients, I order you to keep a close watch on whichever girl is next in line for her birthday wish. If she doesn’t get exactly what she wishes for then you may have cause for complaint. Unt
il then, case dismissed.”

  There was a second clap of thunder followed by another brief downpour. Cass wiped the water out of her eyes and looked over to see that their fairy godmother was shooting them all a triumphant glare. She had somehow managed to use her wings as an umbrella and she was perfectly dry even though everyone else in the courtroom but Judge Rosinbloom was soaking wet.

  “I think your Honor should know,” O’Shea said, staring with hard eyes at the green haired fairy. “That I do not consider this case closed. I am convinced that we will be seeing the defendant in a higher court at some time in the near future. And at that time, I will be certain to include a statement about the gross preferential treatment I have witnessed here today.”

  The Judge’s face grew red.

  “Bailiff!” she shouted and the Great Dane-sized bumble bee that had been buzzing quietly to itself flew up to hover before the rose where she was seated. “I want you to escort these persons out of my courtroom immediately,” Judge Rosinbloom told the huge bee. “And if they give you the slightest bit of trouble, you have my complete permission to sting them.”

  The bee buzzed menacingly and Cass and her sisters and Nana got hurriedly to their feet.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Cass could hear her grandmother murmuring in a worried voice. It was ironic that Nana loved to garden but hated insects. Cass or one of her sisters was always having to come and chase a bee or a wasp away for her while she worked.

  “Come on.” O’Shea turned to them, his face stony. “It’s time we were leaving.”

  They followed him out of the courtroom with the huge bumble bee close behind them.

  Cass wanted in the worst way to turn and say something snide to their fairy godmother but she didn’t care to be harpooned by the bee’s long, sharp stinger. Also, her birthday wish was coming up in less than twenty-four hours. She didn’t need to make the situation worse by calling the FG a lying bitch, which was what she wanted to do. She contented herself with giving her fairy godmother a hard look as they passed by her and got a smirk in return that made her blood boil.