Wicked by Any Other Name (15 page)

“It doesn't.”

“It does now.” Jazz backed up until the flames died down. She used the tip of her boot to draw a line in the dirt then stepped over the line, watched the flames flicker upward then disappear when she stepped back. “And no protection spell seems to work?”

“The one Trev cast was destroyed within a few hours,” Stasi said, gesturing to the broken ring.

Nick was even more cautious as he moved closer to the line Jazz drew in the dirt.

“This feels very old,” he murmured and glanced back at Letiticia who nodded her agreement. “A type of magick not used very often.”

“It's as if the barrier was formed from the water itself,” she said. “Definitely an old magick.”

“But if it was formed from water how did the flames survive?” Stasi asked, intrigued by the female vampire's observation.

“With some forms of water magick cold fire can exist even around water.” She appeared deep in thought as she moved forward in her graceful glide and stood next to Nick. “I've felt something like this before, but I can't recall where or even who created it. It was many years ago. Possibly the 1600s.” She turned to Nick. “You also could sense it was old. Does it seem familiar to you?”

He shook his head. “As an enforcer, I didn't deal much with the magick community. We were more concerned with rogue vampires, not so much with what witches, wizards, and sorcerers did.”

Stasi moved forward to stand at the line in the dirt. She licked her lips, afraid to say the word that had finally slipped into her brain and stayed there like a dark stain.

“What if this is the work of a warlock who works water magick?” she whispered.

Sharp indrawn breaths from Blair and Jazz echoed the fear in Stasi's voice.

“Don't say that.” Blair stepped forward and gripped her shoulders. “Don't even think it.”

“What if it is? It's nothing any of us has ever seen. The lake is virtually a prisoner inside this barrier. It must be either very old or something so dark we weren't taught how to fight it.”

“I may not know exactly what it is, but I do know it's not the work of a warlock.”

Stasi turned at the sound of a familiar voice. She wasn't surprised to see Trev standing there, nor did she even wonder how he came to be out here in the middle of the night. Magick calls. But she was a bit startled to see Jake standing next to him.

“Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?” Jazz stared slightly above Trev's head then slightly above Stasi's, who winced.

“Yep, it's exactly what you think you're seeing,” Blair said under her breath. “Scary, isn't it?”

“And I thought it was bad when Mother Nature got even with me for accidentally calling down thunder.”

“Problem at hand, please!” Stasi snapped before turning to Trev. “You're that sure?”

He nodded, unfazed by her challenge. “A warlock wouldn't have been able to destroy my spell.”

“Sure of yourself, much?” Jazz taunted.

Trev walked toward them. “Jasmine Tremaine, curse eliminator and driver for All Creatures Car Service. You own a 1956 T-Bird convertible haunted by one Irma Carmichael formerly of Jasper, Nebraska, who killed herself in the car leaving her cursed to haunt it. You've only recently been able to release her from the vehicle that's been in your possession since 1957. You live in Santa Monica with a mortal, Jonathon Shaw III.” He nodded toward Krebs. “You've made a name for yourself by finding a way to destroy a man who had dealt in the black arts to further his life span by draining vampires of their life force. Then, not to be outdone, you went toe-to-toe with an Elven noble, killed a powerful wizard who had broken his share of wizard laws, and made an enemy of the director of the Vampire Council. All of which has frustrated the Witches' Council and added to your years of banishment. You don't choose to make life easy for yourself, do you?”

“Wow, I had no idea I was so well known. But what can I say? I don't always play well with others,” Jazz shot back. “You must be the wizard ambulance chaser who thinks he's going to best Stasi in court. Guess again. We've given the Witches' Council the mother of all migraines. Do you honestly think the Wizards' Court can put the fear into us? Because if you mess with one of us, you get all of us. We're a package deal.”

Nick covered his face with his hand. “Subtlety, love,” he murmured. “Try it.”

Stasi hid her smile. “She doesn't know the meaning of the word. Besides, this could be fun.”

“Your client is a nutcase,” Jazz spoke as if she was talking about nothing more serious than the weather. “She's a vicious human being who isn't happy unless everyone else around her is unhappy. You might not admit it, but I just bet she's making you miserable, too. Carrie likes to play the victim, but she's not even close to being one.”

“For someone who doesn't live here, you seem to know her pretty well,” Trev commented.

“I've been up here often enough to meet her, and what I've seen isn't pretty. I'm not a lawyer, thank the Fates, but I'd say Carrie won't give the impression of a pathetic victim when you go to court.” Jazz's smile was more feral than pleasant. “By the time she's finished, the judge will be only too happy to throw her in the deepest, darkest dungeon around and throw away the key.”

Trev kept his hands in his pockets and studied her face. “I'm glad you're on Stasi's side. Do you think you can persuade her to find herself an attorney to represent her?”

She waved her hand. “Already taken care of.”

Stasi straightened up. “What? Jazz, I don't—”

“Later.”

Trev looked from Jazz's set features to Blair to Nick, Krebs, and Letiticia. “Contrary to what you all believe, I have no intention of hurting Stasi. I want her protected just as much as you do, but I also have my client's interests to protect.”

“Then tell her, her best bet is to back off,” Blair snapped.

“I'm not the enemy here.” He looked at Stasi. “Or am I?”

She feared she was blushing and that everyone could sense the heat coming off her skin or see the hearts were doing more than pulsing with dazzling color. She kept few secrets from Blair, but she hadn't confessed her feelings about Trev, because they were still jumbled up and she needed time to sort them out.

“We're opponents,” she said quietly. “The lake is our problem, Trev. I thank you for your help before, but we can take it from here.” She forced herself to look coolly into his eyes, seeing the cobalt blaze flicker to life as he read the truth in her eyes.

She was rejecting him.

“You know I can help you,” he spoke in a voice so low only she could hear him. “There is nothing Carrie can do about it, either.”

She stilled the war going on in her stomach and her heart. “When it all comes down to it, you are the enemy, Trev. You're right. You need to protect your client's interests. And I need to protect mine.”

“We all need to work together,” Jake said.

“What's this ‘we,' handyman?” Blair taunted. “What do you expect to do? Hammer good sense into Carrie's hard head?”

He grinned. “You'd be surprised what I can do, witchy woman. Come on, Trev.” He moved off. “Remember what I said about Jazz and her accuracy with fireballs?”

“It's not over,” Trev murmured to Stasi.

“You're right, it's not, but that's only because we haven't gone to court yet.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the two men walk away.

“When did they do the male bonding thing?” Blair asked.

“I don't know, and it worries me.” Stasi looked back at the barrier. “I'm cold. Let's go back to the house.”

“I can make a few calls and see if anyone has heard of this,” Letiticia offered during their return.

“That would be great, thank you.” Stasi's reply sounded distracted as she thought of Trev and his reaction to her rejection. She knew it had to be done. She needed to put some distance between them. So why did it feel so wrong?

Stasi was positive the ear-splitting screech that filled the air shredded every nerve ending and shattered glass from here to Alaska. She jumped out of bed and threw on the jeans and sweater she'd discarded only a few hours earlier.

“That's Horace!” Blair ran out of her room while Jazz emerged from one of the guest rooms.

“He'd only do that if someone broke into the shop,” Stasi said.

“We need to protect the others.” Jazz's coppery red hair flew around her head in snarls as she muttered a few words, sealing the room Krebs and Letiticia slept in along with her own room where Nick rested. The fact that her heavy forest-green wool sweater was inside out showed that she was still half asleep. She waved a hand to close her jeans while Fluff and Puff protested being awakened so early by her jamming her feet into them the minute she jumped out of bed.

“Nick will have your head for keeping him out of this,” Blair told her as she watched the spell cover the door.

“I'd rather he not be out there until we know what's up,” she said grimly. “He was in morning rest, but if Horace keeps it up he'll be awakened and fear the worst.”

“What is that unearthly sound?” Irma demanded, popping up with the dog standing by her side.

“Go back to bed, Irma,” Jazz ordered.

Stasi tasted the metallic flavor of fear in her mouth and heard a roaring in her head that had nothing to do with the intensity of Horace's screeches. “Someone's broken into the store.” She ran for the back door and threw it open, practically flying down the stairs and running around to the front of the building. She would normally have gone through the rear door of the shop, but she knew she needed to see the front. She slid on the icy surface of the sidewalk, almost falling as she skidded to a stop and saw revealed in the early morning light what her intuition already knew.

She blinked back tears that froze to her eyelashes as she stared at the catastrophe that had once been her and Blair's shops. Frosty air blew through the broken windows covering the front of the building. Black paint had been splattered everywhere, showing flecks of ice as it froze to the wood. She could see obscene words spray painted on the walls inside and nothing of value had been left untouched. Even the weathered pine building showed deep gouges and slashes as if someone had gone after it with an axe.

“Oh no.” For once Jazz was shocked enough only to whisper the two words, but without missing a beat she started to chant under her breath.

“No.” Stasi's voice was a bare breath of air as she placed her hand on Jazz's arm, effectively stopping her before Jazz finished the spell that would pull the wrongdoers back to the scene of the crime. She knew Jazz and Blair would make mincemeat out of whoever had vandalized the two businesses, and right now she didn't want to see them. She started to teeter-totter back and forth, aware of a strange roaring in her head that left her feeling as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of her brain. Her blood had turned to ice and she feared no amount of heat could warm her. “Please.” The word came out as a strangled sob.

“Honey, don't.” Blair grabbed hold of her before she fell to the ground while Jazz caught her on the other side. She stared at the disaster in front of them with disbelieving eyes that also held a glimmer of tears. “I don't understand this. Why didn't our wards work? They've never failed us before. What had enough power to bypass them?”

“Having a problem?”

Stasi spun around to find Carrie standing on the other side of the street with a coffee to-go cup in one hand and a large bag from the bakery in the other. The woman's smirk was more than Stasi could take.

“Looks like I'm not the only one who sees you for what you are,” she called out. Stasi started to step off the sidewalk.

“Don't, Stasi,” Trev's voice rang out from nearby. He walked quickly toward her, standing in front of her before her second foot left the curb. “You'll only bring the wrath of the Wizards' Court down on you. It's not worth it.”

“The Wizards' Court has nothing to do with me. You vindictive little—” Jazz stalked across the street. Blair was swift on her heels with equal fury blazing in her eyes.

Carrie held her stance even as she watched the two furious witches coming toward her. The air was thick with anger and their magick, their hair waving around their heads in the icy air, and multi-colored sparks flying about looking for a target, which just happened to be standing across the street from them. She realized she was their objective and almost lost her balance as she backed up a step, but she managed to save her footing in time.

“Are you proud of yourself, Carrie?” Blair gritted out, gesturing backwards toward the destroyed storefronts. Dark blue sparks shot from her fingertips and settled to the ground. “This isn't just vandalism, this is pure hatred and even if you didn't do this yourself, you know who did because you had to have been behind it!”

The woman lifted her chin, her lips narrow and colorless under a thin application of lipstick. “Why would I bother myself with your ugly little shops? I tell people not to buy there. That your merchandise is inferior.”

Blair ignored this and closed in on Carrie, who took another step backward, avoiding the sparks. “But you seemed to have forgotten something. Stasi's the nice one. She's the one who dreams of romance and she doesn't believe in retaliation. I'm the one who's extremely gifted in the art of revenge. Or did you happen to forget what happened to Gina Carson's husband last year after he cheated on her and she wanted him to pay for that?”

Jazz stepped closer. “You've never been cursed, have you, Carrie? Never seen what can happen to someone who's been well and truly hexed.” Her purr was soft and insidious as her moss-green eyes gleamed and her lips broadened in a daunting smile. “And the range of curses out there is truly amazing, if I do say so myself. Some curses are fairly mild, a nasty case of hives or projectile vomiting for a few days, or weeks, but then there are the unforgettable ones. I've seen curses where nasty-smelling pus oozes out of every pore in your body and there's no way to cure it. Or maggots cover every inch of your body and no matter what you do, they don't fall off. Or your skin literally peels itself away.” The bunny slippers looked up and gnashed razor-sharp teeth that were rumored to have consumed their share of mortals.

“If you use a spell it will reflect on
her,
” Carrie sneered, holding her ground.

Jazz took another step forward. “There's nothing that says I can't bitch slap you back to the Paleolithic period.”

“Stop it, Jazz!” Stasi's voice snapped like a whip. Her power flew across the street ahead of her like a sheet of ice as she walked toward the three women. She didn't take her eyes off Carrie the entire time. “Leave us.”

Blair arched an eyebrow and opened her mouth, ready to argue that she wasn't leaving her friend. Jazz merely smiled and pulled on Blair's arm. Amid Blair's muttered protests, the two women returned across the street to where Trev stood still, his face unreadable.

Stasi didn't say a word as she kept her eyes on Carrie.

“You can't touch me.” Carrie's voice was full of false bravado. “Did you think I wouldn't find out you had a cozy dinner with
my
lawyer?”

“Be careful, Carrie, you're sounding like a jealous lover.”

Carrie's face turned bright purple. “Everyone thinks you're this sweet little thing, but it's all fake, isn't it? You didn't think someone would stand up to you, did you? Did you fuck him in hopes he would convince me to drop the suit? No way that will happen. You ruined my marriage, and I want you to pay for it. And if you do anything to me, I'll make sure he brings you up on charges. You don't think I'm very smart, but I know enough about your kind of law that punishment would be a hundred times worse than anything my courts would do to you.”

“I don't have to touch you, Carrie,” Stasi said softly, but each word was steel coated and her eyes burned with an icy fury. “You're not worth any pain the Wizards' Court would hand out.”

“You deserve to be ruined.” Spittle flew out of Carrie's mouth. “And don't threaten me with your black spells. If anything happens to me or if Trevor says he's dropping me as a client, I'll find a lawyer who will make sure you're punished.”

“I don't use baneful magick and I don't threaten. I only make promises and in all my years I have never broken a promise.” Her stone-cold gaze bored into the woman. “Besides, you're not worth the effort. You're a shallow, cold-hearted woman who hates the world because you feel it's wronged you. You were that way as a child and you still are.” Her smile held no warmth as she noted the flicker in Carrie's eyes. “I have a long memory, Carrie. As a child, you were cruel to other children, and some of them still carry the scars. You and I both know your husband didn't leave you because I cast a spell. He left you because he saw you for what you are and he found a woman who loves him and doesn't want to control him.” She shook her head. “You're not angry because he left you. You're angry because deep down you know you're incapable of making any man happy.”

Carrie's face mottled with rage. “
Witch!
Witch!
” She made it sound like the vilest of curses.

For a moment Stasi's stomach filled with acid as old memories of that shrieked accusation assaulted her mind. By sheer force of will she managed to hold on to her composure and walked away from Carrie and her vehemence.

Trev's expression gave her no hint of his thoughts as he passed by Stasi and walked toward Carrie. Once he reached her, he lowered his head until his lips almost touched her ear, speaking for several moments. She calmed visibly, and he led her away down the street. Not once did he look back. Stasi reminded herself she didn't expect him to, but it still hurt.

She covered up her pain with the reminder she had told him to leave her alone, that Carrie was his client and she knew the woman was his priority.

Just as right now, her main concern was cleaning up her and Blair's shops as best she could. As it was, their shops wouldn't be re-opening for a couple days.

“Why do they always have to use the cheap black paint?” Jazz grumbled, zapping open Stasi's door and stepping inside. “This is just gross! Oh yeah, real original, assholes. At least learn how to spell correctly and come up with something more innovative than the old standbys!” She stared at a rear wall scrawled with obscenities. She took one look at Stasi's shocked expression and smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry, we can take it all away.”

“
Damn
it! That was the last original Scrabble game I had!” Blair could be heard wailing as she moved through her shop. “I'm putting out some search spells and when I find out who did this, I'm kicking some serious ass into the next century.”

“You took your time getting in here! Someone almost put an axe through me!” Felix wailed from his spot on the wall. “Half of my tail is gone,” he moaned, as his newly bobbed tail swung back and forth in perfect time.

“Be grateful. You're about the only thing not destroyed,” Blair growled, picking her way through the debris that littered the floor. “They snapped the heads off all the Madame Alexander dolls! And they were mint condition, too!”

Stasi felt as if she was moving through molasses as she walked into her shop. She stood in the doorway and looked at a chaos that punched holes in her heart. The books had been torn to pieces and thrown all over, while the lingerie had been shredded and some pieces were wet with a sticky substance that she didn't even want to think about.

“I guess we should call the sheriff,” she muttered in a monotone.

“But you won't call him, will you?” Jazz didn't bother to wait for an answer as she zapped what had once been an exquisite camisole lying on the destroyed carpet. The fabric went up in smoke, leaving behind white ash.

“It wouldn't matter. The sheriff's Carrie's uncle on her mother's side.” Stasi stepped carefully through the mess. “Boyd thinks she's a sweet little thing, just a bit high strung. His words. But we will need to take videos of the exterior of both shops for insurance purposes and inside to show damage to our stock.”

Suddenly Stasi realized that what had originally woken her up was now silent. “Horace? Where are you? Horace!” She ran behind the counter then through the stock room. She breathed a soft sigh of relief to see that whoever had trashed her shop hadn't had time to go into the back. The stock hanging on racks in the back hadn't been touched. She finally found the gargoyle hiding under her desk. She was sorry the vandals hadn't been greedy enough to try to take the bewitched moneybag. She would have felt a bit cheerier if they'd suffered for their crimes. The moneybag had its own ways of dealing with thieves and it wasn't pretty. “Their turn is coming,” she muttered, firmly believing in karma.

“It's a miracle I wasn't killed!” The gargoyle tried to scramble up her arms the minute she started to pick him up. “All this shouting woke me up then something broke the windows and they swarmed in like gors beetles.” He mentioned a beetle used in transformation spells; the beetles were the size of lizards and their skin had an odd purple cast. They were also meaner than black mambas when caught. “We can move now, can't we? What about Palm Springs? Wait a minute, no, not there. A lot of old people there and no way I want to see all that wrinkled skin tanned to the consistency of old leather. LA? There're lots of hotties down there. Or Hawaii. Maybe Australia,” he babbled. “Florida. No, they have lots of old people there too. And if the old ladies still wear those muumuus I'll see way too much cellulite and fat along with their Depends. I'd have to wash my eyes out with acid. But after what happened we can't stay here!” He grabbed her arms and shook her, which wasn't an easy feat for an eight-inch gargoyle, but he had his strength behind him. His wings swept back and forth, increasing in intensity.