Wicked by Any Other Name (17 page)

Trev considered him a bully of the first degree. He hated going up against him in court and partied hearty when he won, but each court battle was hard won due to the wizard's trickery.

“Consider yourself lucky you didn't retain him, Carrie,” he said in a dangerously soft voice. “You would have learned the price was too high.”

Her smile was just as deadly. “Maybe you should have fucked her and gotten it out of your system. Otherwise, you're no good to me.” She jerked her arm out of his punishing grip and walked away. “
Ow!
” She jumped and spun around, facing him with hatred in her eyes.

“Who knew mosquitoes would show up this time of year. Remember what I've said, Carrie. I fight fair and win. I wouldn't have taken this case if I didn't believe in the merits of it. But don't push me and don't try to take matters into your own hands.”

Carrie didn't say a word. She turned back around and stalked off, finally turning into Fresh Baked Goods.

Trev blew out a cleansing breath but didn't feel any calmer. It wasn't like him to be at odds with a client, no matter what his personal opinion of them might be, but Carrie was as vindictive as he'd ever seen. He knew what she was doing in the bakery and hated her for not allowing him to keep control of the matter. He was tempted to walk right past the business, but he also wanted to know what was going on.

He drew a deep breath and walked inside, inhaling the scent of yeast, sugar, spices, chocolate, and various fruits, but he also sensed fury there and a strong taint of fear. Ordinarily, he would have found the bakery part of the fragrance tempting his taste buds, but his anger with Carrie had killed any semblance of an appetite and the fury and fear filled his stomach with acid. The counter was busy with customers buying breads and pastries while the separate counter for coffee was equally busy. He stopped there for a cup of French roast and found an empty table in the corner.

“She and her friends will take over the town. Take
us
over,” Carrie groused from another table where she sat with a large muffin and coffee in front of her. “Sometimes I think they had the right idea in Europe by burning witches.” Trevor was shocked to hear this sentiment was met with cheering. “Have any of you been out to the lake? There's something wrong there. I don't know what, but I'm sure they have something to do with it and we've got to stop them!”

Trev straightened up at that. It took all of his willpower to keep his spell around him, but something must have leaked out because Carrie noticed him in his corner. He made an effort to offer her a bland smile. She nodded back warily as if wondering at the change in his demeanor.

“More coffee?” The woman who'd been manning the coffee counter approached. “We offer free refills.”

He looked into her leaf green eyes and saw interest there along with something else he couldn't figure out.

“Thanks.” He hadn't realized he'd already drunk half the cup until then.

“I'm Amaretto Palmer. Rhetta for short.” She filled his cup. “You look like an almond Danish man.” She gestured toward the pastry counter.

“I'm not much for sweets,” he lied. He knew from then on the only sweets he'd care for was chocolate soufflé shared with Stasi.

“You should give it a try. I think you'd enjoy it.” She paused. “So tell me, how does a wizard lawyer deal with a human woman?” She nodded toward Carrie.

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.”

“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.”