Wicked by Any Other Name (3 page)

“There are rules governing their behavior,” he explained patiently. “Punishment is harsh for those who go against laws set down eons ago.”

“And she broke them.” Carrie's eyes narrowed. “I used to work in a library and I know how to do research, Mr. Barnes. Stasi Romanov isn't what this town thinks she is. At first, I wanted to tell everyone just what a monster she is,” Carrie hissed. She didn't back down, even when Trev's expression grew so cold the temperature in the office dropped a good twenty degrees. “But so many people think she's this sweet wonderful woman; I knew they wouldn't believe me. That's when I went into LA and talked to some strange people and discovered she could be sued.”

If Trev had been mortal, he would have been downing aspirin by the bottle by now, if not hitting the nearest bar. He only wished the Code didn't stipulate that once you took a case you couldn't dump it. The last time he had wanted to dump a case was when Bernardo, a mountain dragon, was suing a knight for brutality. The case had presented some technicalities that had fascinated him, but his client was so volatile that his court robes had ended up singed, and he couldn't get the smell of smoke out of his hair for months.

He was beginning to think Bernardo was a pip compared to Carrie Snyder Ferguson Simpson James Anderson.

“Wizards' Court handles matters in its own time,” he said. “Papers have been filed, Ms. Romanov has been served, and we should be given a court date soon.”

“We better.” Carrie stood up. “I'm not a patient woman, Mr. Barnes. I want her to lose everything, so she'll leave town.”

He likewise stood up, inwardly grateful she was leaving. “Perhaps you need to do some further research into Wizards' Court, Mrs. Anderson. Threats are never a good thing.” He walked her to his office door, partly from courtesy but mostly to make sure she was well out of his office. “I'll be in touch.”

Trev sighed as he turned back toward his desk.

“Didn't I tell you working with humans would only give you grief?” Mae, his secretary/assistant/surrogate mother/pain-in-the-ass, spoke from her spot behind her highly polished walnut desk, on which a stray sheet of paper never dared to land. He had inherited her six hundred years ago when his father retired to take a seat on the Wizards' Council and she still treated him as if he was recently out of law school. She patted the bun sitting primly on top of her head. Not one strand of her silver hair was ever out of place. It was always pulled back in a French twist, her dark suits never revealed a crease or wrinkle, and she ruled his office with an iron fist. The narrow red-rimmed glasses that sat on her aquiline nose were unnecessary, but suited her take-charge manner. He had to pay his paralegals a small fortune because otherwise they wouldn't last more than fifty years with General Mae in charge.

Trev was tempted to remind her that she had made the appointment in the first place, but what was the point? Mae never made a mistake—and was the first to say so.

“Ms. Romanov called.” Mae slapped a stack of pink message slips on his hand.

“Who's her lawyer?”

“She doesn't have one.” Mae turned back to her computer monitor, which glowed with characters in an ancient language. “It would be better if you drove up there to see her personally.” She gave him a pointed look over her glasses.

He rubbed his jaw with his hand thoughtfully. “It would be better to wait until she retained counsel.”

“Our law doesn't follow the same rules as mortals,” she reminded him. “You can see the defendant without her counsel present. It didn't seem that Ms. Romanov was too eager to hire anyone to represent her. My Russian is a bit rusty, but I'd say she is not happy about this lawsuit. But I'm certain your charm can persuade her to settle this case amicably and as soon as possible.”

“That would be nice,” Trevor thought. But his client certainly wasn't in that frame of mind.

Trev thought of the workload on his desk. The cases he needed to review. Others that had to be filed. The meetings that filled his calendar.

But when Mae told him he had to be somewhere, he damn well better go there.

Mae was never wrong.

“Wooee! Look at that one,” Horace muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “You think they're real? Boy, I'd love to get my claws on those babies.”

Stasi put the stack of La Perla bras and thongs she'd just priced to one side. The eight-inch grayish-stone gargoyle sat on the counter by her elbow. He had an elongated snout that resembled a monkey's, long arms and short legs, along with pointy horns and leathery-looking wings. More than once customers had commented on Stasi's choice of décor, and she had recently had a few complaints about the sudden appearance of the gargoyle in one of the dressing rooms when a customer—always a shapely one—was trying on lingerie. She glared at Horace.

“You're gross.”

“You're repressed.”

“You're a pervert in stone,” she told the snarky gargoyle, who slowly turned his head to grin at her.

Horace raised a stone eyebrow. “You be cursed in this rock for the last thousand years, then we'll talk. Of course, if Jazz would do her thing, I'd be back to my normal self. What good is having a curse eliminator for a friend if she doesn't help you out?”

“First of all, you were never normal. Second, she wouldn't be helping
me
out, just you. Besides, yours wasn't a typical curse. You never should have fooled around with that troll's girlfriend once you found out he knew a really powerful sorcerer. You need more than a curse eliminator to get out of this one.”

Horace's gray stone head swiveled enough to look toward the display windows. His narrow mouth widened in a grin.

“Maybe that's what I need. Come to think of it, maybe that's what
you
need.”

“What do you…?” Stasi didn't need to finish her question as a man—a tall, very handsome man—entered her shop. Nor did she need anyone to tell her that this apparition was not just a man, but a wizard. And since a wizard had never entered her shop before, she just
knew
which wizard he must be. She touched her creamy pearl ring for reassurance, looking at the soft glow the bead exuded.

Wowza!

Her enemy should have looked uncomfortable standing in the middle of a shop that was designed purely for a woman's sensual nature. But he didn't. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, he was the type of man who would purchase expensive lingerie for his women. She gauged he usually spent a few hundred dollars, and if he wanted to shop here, she would happily take his Black AmEx. If he wanted to discuss the lawsuit, she'd be only too happy to zap him right out of her shop, even if “wowza” did keep floating through her head.

But life was playing a horrific joke on her. It was bad enough having a wizard in her shop, especially this wizard
,
but the sight that almost blinded her had her biting her lip to keep her scream contained. As it was, a tiny squeak escaped her mouth.

All because a half circle of dainty red hearts glowed and pulsed over his head.

No, no, no, no, NO!

Stasi felt her entire system go into major overload and she almost had to sit down. She refused to believe what was shining before her eyes. She blinked, then blinked again, hoping that what she was saw a figment of her imagination. It wasn't. The hearts were still there in living color and looked as if they'd even increased in their scarlet brilliance.

Cupid has a very warped sense of humor.

“Is there something I can help you with?” She finally managed to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She felt as if her raspberry pink sweater and the pink, brown, and cream print skirt that swirled around her calves were suddenly made transparent as the man fixed her with an unnerving gaze. It wasn't easy for her to look him in the eye when he had those damn hearts over his head.

“This is very nice,” he commented, walking around. “Interesting fragrance, too. It makes me think of fresh snow.”

She said nothing, because frankly, she couldn't think of anything to say. It was enough of an effort to keep her gaze off the damn hearts.

He continued walking around, stopping at small round tables covered with rich cream colored silk and lace cloths, chosen to complement the colorful lingerie on display. Several armoires set against the walls displayed hanging camis and chemises, and baskets set here and there were filled with decorative sachets.

He fingered a black silk bustier and matching thong that had two books beside it.

“
Night Huntress
and
Dragon Wytch.
Do they have something to do with the lingerie?”

“I choose the books to go with the items, yes. Call it a theme package. Now is there something I can help you with?”
Such as show you the door before I contact Cupid and have more than a few words with him.

He crossed the shop in a matter of steps and held out his hand. “You must be Ms. Romanov. I'm Trevor Barnes.”

Stasi ignored his outstretched hand, something that would normally be anathema to her polite nature, and deliberately crossed her arms in front of her. There was nothing like body language to let someone know they weren't welcome.

“I know who you are. I just don't know
why
you're here.” Her ice-cold voice could have come from her diva witch friend Thea's lips. With just one word, Thea could freeze a man at ten paces.

“Interesting accessories.” A gravely voice sounded from the counter.

Stasi froze. The last thing she wanted was for the wizard to realize just what floated over his head.

Trev raised an eyebrow and looked down at the gargoyle, who eyed him with similar suspicion.

“Pissed off a troll, did we?”

“What was your first clue?” Horace didn't have to make a face. His own was horrible enough.

“The horns. You must have had a lousy lawyer. How many more centuries do you have to go before you've served your sentence?”

Horace perked up. A faint light like a glowing fire gleamed in his eyes. “Do you mean I could get out of this rock?”

“Are you so desperate for clients that you have to go soliciting, Wizard Barnes?” Stasi asked, holding a tight rein on her emotions before she could start to hiccup a mega bubble fest.

“I'm just curious, Ms. Romanov.” He flashed his pearly whites. “And I go by Trev.”

“I might have to be polite to you,
Wizard Barnes,
but I don't have to be friendly.” Her normally soft golden brown eyes were hard and narrowed, and if Trev had been looking at her ankles, he would have noticed an unearthly sheen coming from the creamy pearl dotting the handle of the tiny gold broom that hung from her anklet. She could feel the metal heating her skin. A deep breath calmed that down. She tried to cover by retreating behind the counter.

“I thought we could discuss the case and try to arrive at an amicable settlement that I can present to my client. Maybe we can avoid the trouble of having to deal with this in court. Also, I haven't heard from your counsel.” Trev turned up the charm factor, but Stasi was immune.

“Probably because I haven't retained one yet.” Her jaw tightened so much she feared her teeth would shatter in her mouth.

“Oh, this is great!” Three twenty-something women dressed in ski pants and parkas that would probably never get near the ski slopes walked in and scattered in different directions. “I'm so glad Claire told us about this boutique.”

“And it smells so good in here, too,” a blonde with highlights gushed. “It's like this rich vanilla cream with cinnamon.”

“You must have a cold,” the brunette said as she inhaled deeply and picked up a tiny hanger holding an equally tiny thong. “I smell berries with something almost spicy. Like those spice drops Kevin loves to eat all the time.”

“Chocolate. I smell milk chocolate.” The slender redhead made a beeline for a filmy chemise displayed next to a copy of
Sex and the Single Witch.

“Interesting. Each customer who comes in detects an individualized scent,” Trev murmured.

“It makes them buy more.”

“Especially the one smelling chocolate?” He watched the redhead pick up a chemise in every color along with an armload of books.

“She's PMSing. Anyone PMSing tends to smell their favorite form of chocolate.” Stasi planted her hands on the counter and stared at Trev. “I normally don't ask people to leave my shop, but I have customers here and a business to run.”

He nodded. “We need to talk. Or at least retain counsel and have him or her contact me.”

“I'll see you in court, Wizard Barnes.” She made sure to keep her voice low so the women wouldn't overhear her.

“I have an idea it will be sooner than that, Ms. Romanov.” He smiled and left the shop; the damning red hearts still arced over his head.

Stasi was relieved that mortals couldn't see the hearts, and more than grateful she had customers to deal with. Otherwise, she would have been tempted to indulge in a hissy fit that would make Thea's tantrums look like a Zen moment. By the time the three women left, her breathing had returned to normal. Sort of.

Wizard—she refused to even think of him as “Trev”—Barnes was gorgeous with a capital G. Dark blond hair with a hint of bronze highlighting the thick strands, kept short because he was the type, skin tanned from the sun, eyes so blue they rivaled a cobalt stone, and his designer suit was cut to make his lean body look fabulous. The man might work in an office, but it had to be more than good genes that gave him a body like that. She guessed he enjoyed a morning swim every day, and not just a leisurely dog paddle, either. As she stared at the spot where he had been standing, her vision momentarily blurred until objects appeared to dance in front of her eyes.
Valentine red heart-shaped objects.

She suddenly felt as if a bomb had been set off inside her.

“Uh.” She blindly fumbled for the stool she kept behind the counter. “Uh.” Her forehead connected with the counter in a nasty thump.

“Was that who I think it was? Oh, no.” Blair slipped inside the shop, closed the door behind her, and waved her hand to activate the lock. “Oh honey, that's going to leave a mark.” She hurried over to the counter.

“Uh,” was all Stasi could utter.

“Yep, hot boy is the wizard,” Horace offered up. “I've got to say, if I wasn't into women I'd do him in a second.”

“Uh!” Stasi's mumble now had a gurgling sound.

“What was he doing here? What did he want? Is Carrie dropping the case or shall I whip up an eternal yeast infection for her? I will do it, you know,” Blair promised, leaning over Stasi, rubbing her back in soothing circles. She leaned closer in hopes she'd hear the slight sounds coming from Stasi's mouth. “What did you say?”

“Ha—” she took a deep breath. “Hearts. He wore hearts.”

Blair straightened up as the meaning clicked in. “No way!”

She nodded. “Big dancing red hearts way.” A loud hiccup echoed in the shop with an ethereal bubble floating in the air. Horace exhaled a deep breath, sending the bubble dancing higher.

Blair shook her head. “It has to be a sick joke on Cupid's part. Even he wouldn't be this nasty.”

“Yes, he would.
Hic!
”

“Hold your breath.”

“They have to stop on their own.” Stasi accepted the glass of water Blair brought her.

“Why did he come?”

“To discuss an amicable settlement.”

“As in you give in to whatever she demands?”

She nodded. “I told him I'd see him in court.”

“The way Wizards' Court runs, the case might not be heard for a thousand years.”

“Human plaintiff, remember? Any case involving a mortal is fast-tracked. It said so in the paperwork.” She buried her face in her hands. “All I wanted was a beautiful Samhain this year.” Her words were muffled by her hands.

“And it will be. Nothing is going to ruin it.” Blair hoisted herself up on the counter and swung her legs back and forth. Her hair had been pulled up into a perky ponytail. Dressed in a navy and green plaid skirt that skimmed her knees, a crisp white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a cream-colored long-sleeved sweater, along with navy knee socks and loafers, she looked like the consummate schoolgirl. Since she owned and ran a shop featuring vintage and retro merchandise, she liked to dress the part.

Stasi happened to look up and see a familiar figure cross in front of the display window before reaching for the shop door. A wave of Blair's fingers released the lock in the nick of time. She hopped off the counter to stand beside Stasi.

“Good morning, Stasi,” the visitor chirped, stepping inside the shop.

“Poppy,” the two witches greeted the woman whose personality was perfectly paired with her voice. Both were chirpy with a hint of squeak, and she never seemed to remain still for more than five seconds. Blair liked to compare Poppy to an evil Tweety bird. Her thin body was attired in a bright blue tunic-length sweater and matching leggings paired with impossibly high heels. Even her candy pink lip gloss seemed to add to her birdlike appearance.

Stasi found the woman irritating, but managed to keep her feelings masked.

“Such a chilly morning, isn't it?” Poppy offered a sunny smile as she walked toward them carrying a large plate. “I tried out a new muffin recipe this morning and thought I would bring by some samples. Perhaps if you offer them to your customers they'll like them well enough to come down our way.” She set the plate on the counter and drew off the cellophane covering with a dramatic flourish. “They have cinnamon and other spices in them, plus a few secrets of my own. I thought if everyone liked them I'd bring them out for Halloween. Reed and I keep hearing how the town goes all out in October, so I thought I'd try some Halloween theme recipes.”

“Well.” Blair winced when Stasi's shoe made contact with her ankle as a less-than-subtle reminder to be polite.