Wicked by Any Other Name

by Linda Wisdom

  Why did he feel as if that wasn’t the question she really wanted to ask?

  “We’re no different than any everyday attorney. We handle a lot of the same type of cases. A few different ones, of course.” He quickly finished his coffee. When Rhetta lifted the pot, he gave her a charming smile and shook his head. “I have some work to do. Excellent coffee, by the way. I’ll have to stop in again.” He knew she would think he’d be stopping in for more than the coffee, but that was fine if he ever needed her as a source of information. He was going to need all his resources to discover what was going on among the townspeople. It appeared the bakery was a good place for that.

  “Please do,” she murmured, moving on.

  Trev sucked in more cleansing breaths as he headed for his car. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial.

  “It’s the weekend,” Mae announced without any form of greeting.

  “And I want this in play first thing on Monday,” he told her. “No more cases with humans, plaintiffs or defendants, and I don’t give a damn what part of the magickal community is involved. Refer any of them to Fitzroy.”

  “Give me something new to do. I’ve been doing that since the first day that woman walked into the office.” She hung up without another word.

  Trev stared at his phone as if it was a creature he’d never encountered before.

  “Damn that woman. She never lets me have the last word.”

  Chapter 13

  “You didn’t think to get me up when you were first alerted? Damn it, Jazz!” Nick growled as he picked up loose boards as easily as if they were toothpicks and put them in a neat pile. Vampire strength came in handy. Even in his annoyance, he paused long enough to slide his arm around Jazz’s waist and press a kiss against her temple. She looked up and smiled at him, her delicate features alight with love. He shook his head. “What were you all thinking? How do you know the bastards still wouldn’t have been here and ready to do damage to you? Yes, you all have power, but that doesn’t mean you can go up against everyone. Look what they did here! That alone gives you an idea what they could have done to you. Mob mentality is a dangerous and unpredictable factor.” His expression turned dark with memories—all preternatural creatures had been persecuted at some time.

  “What, do you think we can’t take care of ourselves against some crazy mortals? Trust me, after what I’ve put up with in just the past six months, this is a cakewalk,” Jazz argued, then she muttered a few words and waved her hands in front of the rear wall of Stasi’s shop. In moments, purple mist covered the black-painted graffiti, dissipating the filthy words that had been scrawled on the surface. The wall was back to its pristine condition. Once that was finished, she began picking up piles of shredded books and dropping them into a bucket. “There was no one here by the time we got here, so it had to be quite a crowd that ran in, did as much damage as they could, and got out,” Jazz reasoned. “Horace’s warning shrieks are too high pitched for anyone mortal to hear—except dogs, and I’m sure there are some major canine earaches this morning, along with cracked and broken glass here and there. As for Carrie, yes, it got a little charged, but nothing risky, and if you had been down here you might have gotten fangy and that wouldn’t have been a good idea. It was bad enough Fluff and Puff did their thing.” The bunny slippers squeaked their self-congratulations.

  Nick flashed said fangs at her and returned to his task.

  Letiticia walked through the shop picking things up. She muttered words in an ancient language under her breath as she dropped bits of lace and silk into a trash can.

  “Animals,” she spat out the word. “All of them.”

  “It’s like a disease that begins with one and pretty soon more are infected.” Stasi started to pick up a trash can, but Krebs took it out of her hands. She smiled her thanks and apology all in one. “I’m sorry your getaway began with such drama.”

  He grinned. “You forget I share a house with Jazz. Drama is her middle name.”

  “Actually, I don’t have a middle name,” Jazz called out on her way to the other shop to help Blair.

  Stasi walked over to Letiticia and Krebs. “I feel guilty. I wish you two would enjoy today instead of helping us clean up here.”

  “We truly don’t mind,” Letiticia protested. “The more hands, the faster the work will be finished.”

  “But I do.” She smiled gently. “There’s more than skiing offered at the resort, and there are other small towns to explore. We even have an authentic ghost town about ten miles away. Please?” She begged with her eyes as eloquently as she did with her voice.

  Letiticia slowly nodded. “But we will be back later and help then.”

  “Here.” Nick tossed Krebs the keys to the Navigator. “The windows are specially tinted, so Letiticia will be safe if the sun gets too bright.”

  “My dear, I’m almost as old as you are.” Letiticia laughed, pulling on Krebs’s hands. “We’ll be back later.” They left through the rear door.

  Stasi picked up a delicately scrolled stool with a velvet covering that had been hideously slashed, and set it upright, then realized one of the legs had been broken. She carried it to the pile of trash and set it on top. She refused to admit she kept looking outside in hopes she would see Trev. His absence gnawed at her.

  It’s those red hearts that’re doing this. If I hadn’t seen them, I could easily have handled Trev as nothing more than the attorney for the plaintiff.

  Sure, Anastasia, you keep telling yourself that. You’re such a fickle witch. First you send him away, now you want him back. Make up your mind! And don’t even think about how he looked naked. How he made you feel. What the man could do to you.

  Stasi glared at a pair of what used to be apricot lace boy shorts so hard a trickle of smoke curled up into the air. It was easier than dismissing the thoughts streaming through her head.

  “Ah ah ah,” Jazz chided, walking back into the shop.

  Stasi made a face and eased off.

  “You know, maybe in a way this is a sick blessing in disguise,” Blair said, walking in behind Jazz.

  “Explain the blessing part, because as I look around at the landfill that used to be my beloved boutique, I don’t see anything to be thankful for.”

  “We’ve talked about putting an archway in this side wall to connect the two shops, so what better time to do it than now? There’s already holes in the wall, so why don’t we just go ahead and finish the job?”

  “And I suppose you have someone in mind to do that for us?” Stasi asked.

  Blair didn’t even blush. “I called Jake and he said he’d be right over to give us an estimate.”

  “We can’t do it until the insurance claims adjustor comes in.”

  “So we factor this in.”

  “She’s right,” Nick agreed. “It is a good time and you’d have additional protection with Jake.”

  “And his hammer,” Blair joked. “He’ll be here in about ten minutes. He’s chopping wood for Mrs. Benedict.” She looked at her reflection in the shards of the mirror that was barely managing to stay hung on a wall. “At least we know someone will have seven years bad luck. Hm, I need a bit of glamour.” She disappeared back to her shop.

  Nick watched her go. “She has no idea, does she?”

  “Idea about what?” Stasi asked, puzzled by his question.

  He turned and looked at her and Jazz. “Jake.”

  “What about Jake?” Stasi looked blank.

  Jazz shrugged her shoulders, indicating she didn’t know what he meant. “Please don’t use riddles. It’s been a long day. Just tell us straight out.”

  He considered her request then shook his head. “No, no, this is way more fun. Especially since you don’t seem to know, either.” He ducked as Jazz threw a battered hot pink and cream woven basket at him.

  The rocking sounds of The
Monster Mash sounded from the other side of the wall.

  “As you can tell, she recovers quickly,” Stasi murmured.

  “Where did you put the video you took of the shops before we started?” Jazz asked.

  “It’s safely upstairs.”

  “Am I going upstairs too?” Horace asked from his spot on a shelf behind the counter.

  “I guess so.”

  The gargoyle brightened up as much as an ashy gray gargoyle can. “Can I sleep in Blair’s room?”

  “Not a chance, perv!” Blair shouted through a gap in the wall. “I haven’t forgotten that night I woke up and found you under the covers.”

  Stasi shook her finger at the gargoyle. “For that, you’re sleeping in the kitchen.”

  “Hey.” Jake walked in and looked around. His jeans and flannel shirt were covered with wood chips. He wore his baseball cap visor down low, although the day was cloudy. He nodded at Nick and introduced himself before approaching Stasi. “At a glance I’d say I’ll need to replace some drywall, but cutting an archway between the two stores shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Maybe this wouldn’t be a good idea,” Stasi said.

  “Putting in the archway?”

  “You working for us. I don’t want you losing work from anyone else in town because of us.”

  Jake took a deep breath, his hands on his narrow hips as he looked around. “Have I ever gone along with what anyone else said?”

  “No.”

  “Did I ever infer you and Blair were the spawn of the devil?”

  “Oh no! Is that what they’re saying?” She pressed her hand against her stomach, feeling acid building up to volcano level.

  “I don’t listen to gossip, Stasi, and people around here are smart enough not to gossip around me because I’m known to shut them down fast,” he assured her. “But you do have a guy who likes you a lot and is really worried about you.”

  “He’s working for the other side.”

  “And if he hadn’t been retained by her you wouldn’t have met him.”

  “We’re still opposites that aren’t meant to be.” She looked around for something to make her look busy, but everything had been cleaned up and Nick and Jazz were occupied carrying the trash out back to the Dumpster.

  “Stop checking out the stock room,” Nick could be heard grumbling. “You have enough clothes for ten closets.”

  “Ha! You haven’t seen Thea’s closet then. It’s practically a house in itself. Ooh! This is so cute! And it’s in my size!”

  Stasi smiled at their wordplay as she heard the steel rear door open and sounds of the trash falling into the Dumpster.

  “You need to smile more and worry less,” Jake advised softly.

  She threw out her arms to encompass the vandalized shop. “I shouldn’t worry about this?”

  Jake walked around the store, his knowledgeable hands stroking the damage. Once-elegant armoires were now nothing more than shards of wood, shredded wires hung out of the walls where light fixtures had been pulled off, the carpet was so covered with a variety of stains that it would have to be pulled up and thrown out, and all the mirrors, from the ones in the shop to the full-length ones in the dressing rooms, had been shattered. “Some more clean-up, new paint, new carpet, and whatever you need for your displays, and you’ll be ready to go again. I can put off the low priority jobs and get right to this if you want me to.”

  “I do, but even once it’s redone, it won’t be the same.” Stasi settled on her stool. When she felt a nudge at her ankle she looked down to find a worried looking Bogie staring up at her. The small dog floated up and perched himself on the counter with his head resting on her arm, nuzzling it with his nose for reassurance.

  “Do you notice that very few people have come by to see what happened?” Blair walked in pulling a Red Flyer wagon loaded with a cooler. The sides were badly scratched and the wagon wobbled because the wheels had been bent. “Cowards,” she muttered, allowing Jake to hoist the cooler onto the counter. “Jerks. Last time I donate to the town center rebuilding fund. Or the volunteer fire department or any other cause that pops up during the year.” She reached down and patted the dented wagon before she looked up. “Don’t we carry paper on the mayor’s house?”

  “Don’t even think it,” Stasi warned.

  “So what do you think, cowboy?” Blair asked Jake. “Is there a problem in punching more holes in the wall dividing our stores?”

  “I checked to make sure it’s a load bearing wall and it can be done,” he replied, pulling a can of Cherry Coke out of the cooler. “You can either have an open archway, a curtain to divide it or even swinging half doors. For now, I want to board up the windows and the front door. You can come and go through the rear door until I finish with the front.” He glanced toward where the windows used to be.

  Stasi and Blair followed his gaze and noted several people standing across the street. What caught Stasi’s attention were the blank looks on their faces as if they were looking at nothing more innocuous than an empty wall. They remained there even as the snow began to fall in a soft white curtain.

  “Pod people,” Blair murmured.

  “Don’t blame all for what a few think.” Jake leaned against the counter, his elbows resting on the wooden surface.

  “They don’t just think,” Stasi said dryly. “They also act. And right now, we’re the targets. Longtime residents have known what we are for quite some time, but now something is making them change. It’s very unsettling.”

  “It all started with Carrie,” Blair pointed out. “She’s the catalyst. She’s always loved to stir up trouble and now she’s been able to stir up a shitload just because she thinks she has the right.” Her gaze bored into Stasi’s.

  Stasi returned it with defiance. She ignored the mental reminder that she had added a little extra to the sachet she’d tucked into Carrie’s bag. She wished she could ignore Blair’s telling look. Guilt weighed heavy on her that Carrie’s anger had been cast against Blair, too, when she had done nothing to deserve it.

  Collateral damage.

  “I can smell disaster a mile away,” Jazz announced, walking in from the stockroom with Nick on her heels. “And she reeks of it.” She glanced at Stasi who quickly ducked her head. “Stasi?”

  Blair quickly busied herself with rearranging the contents of the cooler. “Jake, sweetie, do you want to come over and see what needs to be done to my place?” she asked, pulling his sleeve.

  He picked up his Cherry Coke can. “Sure thing.”

  Blair deliberately waited until Jake started walking. Is that a world-class ass or what? she mouthed with a grin as she followed him outside.

  “Why do I feel there’s more to this than Carrie acting like a bitch?” Jazz asked softly as she perched herself up on the counter. Her jeans-clad legs swung back and forth.

  Nick immediately backed up and even Stasi looked wary. Jazz’s absolute least favorite word was bitch, so for her to use it meant her anger level was rising.

  Jazz spun around on the counter and sat there cross-legged. “You did do something, didn’t you?” Her whisper was so low mortal ears wouldn’t have heard her words. “That’s why Blair looked at you the way she did and why you’re not as traumatized as you should be. You expected something like this to happen. You expected some sort of punishment.”

  “Blair shouldn’t have been a target.” Stasi forced herself to face Jazz. “Just because Carrie is furious with me, there’s no reason for Blair to suffer too.”

  “I’m the one with a temper. Blair’s the one who believes in exacting revenge. Thea’s happiest when her fans tell her how much they love her books. Lili is the absolute best healer in the universe. Maggie’s happiest when she kicks ass. And then there’s you, Stasi. You have the largest, kindest heart in this universe, and you give Cupid a run for his money because you believe everyone has
a perfect match. How many times have you been called before the Witches’ Council since we were expelled from the academy? Four, five? Compared to the countless times we others have been called? And your time was only increased because you did what you felt was right. But this time you interfered with a human’s well-being. You messed with her love life in a way even Cupid wouldn’t have done.”

  Stasi’s expression turned to stone. “You know what? I’m tired of explaining myself and defending myself. Perhaps Carrie should do some soul searching and not worry about what might or might not have been in the sachet I put in her bag.”

  “Do you mean this sachet?”

  “Oh shit,” Jazz muttered, looking over her shoulder at the dark-visaged man standing in the doorway. There was no look of the clean-cut wizard lawyer now. This was a man who was furious and wanted everyone to know it, judging by the energy that blasted around him like a nuclear explosion. Even Jazz knew enough to stay quiet.

  Stasi didn’t move from her spot as Trev walked inside holding a familiar pink silk heart-shaped sachet edged with cream lace. To anyone else, it smelled like lavender. The expression on Jazz’s face and the fury on Trev’s told her that both could smell the slight difference in it.

  “Carrie sent this over to me a little while ago,” Trev said, bearing down on Stasi, who, to her credit, didn’t budge an inch. “She was afraid it was hexed and hoped I could tell if it was safe. She had decided to cut up all the sachets you’d put in her bags, but for some reason she couldn’t cut up this one.” He slammed the silk bag down on the counter. “Guess why? I’m amazed you didn’t arrange for this one to somehow end up missing or destroyed.”

  “Out,” Nick snapped.

  “Good idea. Leave, wizard, until she has her lawyer with her,” Jazz agreed, then muttered, “Those red hearts can be totally irritating, can’t they?”

  Nick walked over and grabbed Jazz’s arm. “I meant us.”

  “But—!” she sputtered as he dragged her out of the shop.

  Trev took several deep breaths, but his anger wasn’t easily handled. “What were you thinking, Stasi? This is all the proof she needs to show you interfered with her marriage. All I had to do was pick this up and I could feel what you had put into it—and it wasn’t a simple feel-good-about-yourself spell like the other sachets have.”