Wicked by Any Other Name (16 page)

“Horace, calm yourself! And we're not going anywhere.” She winced as his claws dug into her arms, snagging her sweater. She wasn't used to seeing the gargoyle hysterical. His gray skin was mottled red and bright pink with agitation and his wings flapped so fast they created a strong breeze. She stroked his horns, usually guaranteed to soothe his frazzled nerves, but it didn't seem to be doing the trick this time.

“I'm proud of you, lovey.” Jazz walked in and sat on the extra chair. “Oh for Fates sake!” She grimaced when she realized that her sweater was inside out with the tag hanging under her chin. She quickly pulled it over her head and set it to rights. Once that was done, she finger combed her hair, piling it on top of her head in a loose knot that she secured with a pair of dark jade chopsticks she pulled out of thin air. “You did the right thing by standing up to that harridan and putting the fear into her. I always knew you had it in you. There was no reason for you to take her shit.”

“I felt like a shrew.” Stasi busied herself carefully peeling each of Horace's claws out of the knit of her sweater, and then set him gently on her desk. He immediately scuttled back to rest against her sleeve, rubbing his face against her arm as if he was a cat seeking reassurance. She had never seen her sharp-tongued gargoyle rattled, and this upset her as much as seeing her beautiful shop destroyed. Horace could be a pain in the neck, but he didn't deserve to feel like this. She was only grateful he'd had the sense to hide, since Horace was too proud to admit he was a coward and would run from danger if he felt the least bit threatened. She didn't think anything could happen to him, but that didn't mean someone might not have tried.

“Did you deck Carrie? Tell me you rearranged her ugly face,” Horace begged, wiping his nose against Stasi's sleeve. “I didn't hear her voice when they broke into the stores, but we know the shrew had to have been behind it, right? How about warts? Did you at least give her warts or some disgusting skin disease that no dermatologist in the world can cure?”

“I didn't touch her, but I did let her know there's nothing she can do to scare me.” Stasi reached into the small refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of lime-flavored sparkling water. She handed one to Jazz, who unscrewed the cap and drank deeply.

“What I saw out there was a woman so filled with hate that no other emotion could have found its way inside her.” Jazz set her bottle on the desk. “When you said things were upset around here and told me what happened to the lake, I thought it was nothing more than someone messing up a spell and that Carrie was nothing more than an empty-headed twit who wanted this lawsuit because she has a grudge against you. She's a twit, all right, but she's not empty-headed. She's beyond that. She's making serious trouble for you, Stasi. That's why I found a wizard lawyer for you. He's not afraid to go up against Trevor Barnes, either.”

Stasi idly ran her finger along the length of the cold plastic bottle. “I saw that kind of hate in Salem Village in 1692,” she murmured. “It was a dark time back then. Once the accusations and trials started, people grew afraid they would be targeted next, so they would accuse someone else, even if it was a family member or close friend, to divert suspicion. As a result, so many were hurt and tortured, others died, and they all carried one sort of pain or another. I don't think one person was unaffected by the time it was over. It was bad in Europe with the witch finders, too. Look what Witch Finder Matthew Hopkins did in 1644. People now think he was nothing more than a character in a movie, when we all know he was so much more and many innocent people were killed because of him. The problem with Salem Village was that it was such a small area that it took no time at all for fear to spread like a plague.”

“I wish you had contacted one of us back then,” Jazz whispered, easily feeling the hurt within Stasi's heart. “We had no idea what was going on there until it was over. For Fates sake, Stasi, we could have lost you to that mob!” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

“But you didn't lose me. I dampened my magick and did my best to seem harmless. As long as I was in Salem Village I had to be so careful that I didn't do anything that would draw attention. I'm sure they would have seen my leaving there as a sign of guilt.” Her eyes grew dark with past terror. “I didn't feel safe for the next hundred years. Sleep wasn't easy to come by and the nightmares took even longer to leave me.”

Jazz's expression of horror echoed Stasi's. Not that long ago she'd had her own bad dreams to deal with. She had been able to destroy a part of her enemy and had to grudgingly deal with the other part, but she'd had Nick and others to help her. Stasi had been alone then with only her dread of being targeted for company.

“Don't let anyone rob you of your power,” she advised. “Believe me, if anybody knows what feeling powerless is like, it's me.”

Stasi couldn't help but smile. “As I well know. That forty-eight hours of you without your magick was not a pleasant time.”

“And you think it was fun for me? I was never so glad as when I got up that morning and found that face-covering zit gone.” Jazz drank some more of her water. “What do you want, Stasi? Do you want the attorney I found for you, so you can trounce Carrie in court? Because I can't see her lawsuit going anywhere but down the toilet. Do you want all of us to go out there and band together to bring the lake back to life and find out the source of those lights and who, or what, caused that barrier? Do you want to walk away from here and never look back? What feels right to you?”

Stasi used the time to drink more water. She would have killed for a cup of coffee, but the vandals had smashed the coffeemaker to bits and she was too tired to conjure up a cup.

“I want the town to go back to the way it was,” she said finally. “I want people to smile and say hello to each other like they used to. I don't want fear to settle in here and I don't want anger to rule their lives.”

“They're human, Stasi. They're ruled by their emotions.”

“So are we.” She looked at Horace who had finally sidled over to the edge of the desk and curled up in a ball, fast asleep. His snores were loud enough to wake the dead. She hadn't seen Bogie down here and gathered that the dog had been smart and stayed upstairs. “Magick doesn't rule our lives. It enriches us.”

“Tell that to humans who are only interested in a good hex to take out an enemy or at least make them miserable. Don't forget that I've met more than my share.”

Stasi reached across the desk and took Jazz's hands in hers. “All humans aren't like that. Thank you for being here, Jazz. Blair tends to let her temper loose and while she doesn't mean to, things usually only get worse.”

Jazz had to laugh at that, since her Irish temper was legendary. “And I don't?”

She smiled. “Yes, but you stepped back and let me handle Carrie on my own, even though I'm sure you wanted to take a bite out of her. That meant a lot.”

Jazz waved away her thanks. “I only did what was right. She's your fight and you need to be the one to battle her. I know why Blair feels she needs to step in. She wants to protect you. We all do. You're our sweetheart witch. Until Carrie got under your skin, you would never say anything bad against anyone. You see the good in someone no matter how deep it might lie. Because of your soft-hearted nature we always felt you couldn't fight your own battles, but now you're showing that you can, and you're displaying an impressive amount of teeth when you're doing it. You don't need our protection anymore. You do just fine on your own, and I'm so proud of you. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's go on to a more pleasurable subject.” Her eyes twinkled with wicked laughter. “Tell all about the hot wizard. Does he kiss as good as he looks?” She laughed when she saw her friend's blush start along her forehead and travel down her face to her throat. “You didn't? You did!” Fluff and Puff chortled along with her. “You had your way with the man.”

“It was sort of mutual,” she admitted.

“Hello? Stasi?”

“Ginny!” Stasi was never so glad for an interruption. She jumped to her feet and ran out of the office with Jazz following her.

The lovely Asian woman stepped carefully through the mess holding a drink carrier with coffee cups and a bag. She smiled at Nick, who was busy using the video camera to record the extent of the damage.

“Oh Stasi,” she moaned softly, shock widening her eyes. “Hello, Jazz.” She held up the carrier and bag. “I thought you might need caffeine and sustenance. I baked them fresh this morning.” She looked around the trashed shop. “I think I should have brought a bulldozer instead. How could someone do this?”

Jazz immediately latched onto the coffee and oohed and ahhed over the pastries in the bag before grabbing one. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“Carrie is out of control,” Ginny said flatly, turning back to Stasi.

“There's no proof she was behind this,” Stasi murmured, sipping the hot coffee with a sigh of relief and allowing the caffeine to flood her system.

“I bet we could find proof if we did a little searching.” Jazz had a lemon Danish in her mouth and coffee in one hand while she busied herself piling the shredded books in one corner.

“No. This isn't all her doing.” Stasi paused to stare at the basket of delicate sachets that were soaking wet. She didn't even want to think how they got that way.

Both women stared at her.

“You don't just mean she had help from someone, do you?” Jazz said.

Ginny looked from one to the other. “Um, no offense but you two are scaring me.”

“Don't be scared,” Stasi told her then muttered, “
Not now!
” when she spied two visitors coming to the shop.

“Oh my.” Poppy stood in the open doorway, her hands covering her mouth while her eyes went wide with shock. “Oh Stasi, this is terrible. Your beautiful shop is destroyed.” She tiptoed inside with her sister, Rhetta, walking more slowly behind her. Poppy was dressed in pink wool leggings and a pink, blue, and yellow print sweater. Her blond hair was pulled up in a frizzy ponytail secured with a pink velvet ribbon. Rhetta was more sedately attired in olive jeans and a cream turtleneck sweater. Her leaf-green gaze slid sideways to Ginny and centered on the bag that Ginny still held.

“Is there any way we can help?” Rhetta asked.

“No, but thank you for asking.”

Jazz studied the two newcomers as she hoisted herself up to sit on the counter.

“Hello, I'm Poppy Palmer.” Poppy directed a bright smile to Jazz. “And this is my sister, Amaretto, but we all call her Rhetta. I own the bakery, Fresh Baked Goods, with our brother, Reed.”

“Jazz Tremaine. I'm a good friend of Stasi's,” she said. “A group of us came up for the Halloween fun. It's nice to meet you.”

Stasi almost smiled at Jazz using the human term instead of Samhain, which they celebrated every October. But the way things were going, she feared this year their celebration wasn't to be.

Poppy stared at Jazz's face and subtly backed off even though Jazz wasn't displaying any aggression.

“Well, you must come down to our bakery for coffee and some of our wonderful pastries. Our brother Reed whipped up some marvelous pumpkin spice muffins today that will be coming out of the oven any time now.” She waggled her fingers at Stasi. “Honey, if you need any help at all, you call us, okay? I know Carrie is trying to make things difficult for you, but not all of us believe you're that way. I mean, if you were, we'd all be in danger, wouldn't we?” She looked around at the disaster that had once been Stasi's pride and joy. “Some people just don't understand.”

“Thank you.” Stasi deliberately didn't say she'd call because she deplored lies and that would have been a whopper. She had no plans to call on anyone. And she especially wouldn't call on anyone who lived in this town, not even Ginny, because she didn't know if her friend would eventually turn against her, too. Stasi had seen it happen before. Right now, she didn't know who she could trust other than the ones she felt closest to.

***

“You're supposed to be working for me,” Carrie spat out as Trev marched her up the sidewalk. “So why did you have dinner with that bitch? You better not have tried to persuade her to settle, because I want her in court. And there's no way I'll drop this case. She's playing with peoples' lives and I don't want to see it happening any longer.”

“Watch it, Carrie,” he warned. Feeling his anger building up, he stopped and jerked her around to face him. “You have treaded a very fine line before, but if you had anything to do with the destruction of those shops, you have gone beyond the pale.”

“I've done nothing wrong. She probably trashed her own store, so she could blame it on me.”

If Carrie had looked at Trev at that moment, his expression would have struck real fear into her heart. Instead, she felt a sense of suffocation surround her. It was only momentary, but it gave her pause. She breathed easier when the sensation was removed. She immediately knew he had caused it.

“I should have gone to Wizard Fitzroy,” she muttered. “He would have seen the truth about Stasi and done something about it. She wouldn't have been able to seduce him.”

Trev felt the air in his lungs turn to ice. The idea that she was accusing him of impropriety was bad enough, although he knew he was likewise walking a fine line where Stasi was concerned. But the wizard attorney she referred to was infamous for fighting dirty in the courtroom and managing to get away with it. He was also well known for hating witches with a passion and had declared more than once the world would be a better place without them. He also enjoyed dealing with humans. Trev figured it was because humans were in awe of Fitzroy, and there was nothing the pompous ass liked more than feeling as if he was a god.