Wicked by Any Other Name (6 page)

“There are things goin' on, ma'am.” He shot a quick look at Stasi. “Sorry. Anyway, there's somethin' goin' on in our realm. It ain't the same as it's been before and we all feel real unsettled like.”

“We have a lunar eclipse coming up along with Mercury retrograde. That might be why you're feeling uneasy.” Stasi conjured up a rawhide chew and handed it to Bogie, who happily moved off to a corner with his treat.

“Sounds like a disturbance in the force.” Blair grinned.

“You and Darth Vader.”

“Just the voice. Otherwise, it's still Han Solo in those tight breeches that revs my engines.”

“It is disturbin,'” Fergus admitted. “We all don't feel right—it's like we're bein' pulled in different directions.” He held up one hand, rough and calloused from working his claim until he was killed by a greedy fellow miner who wanted to add Fergus' claim to his own. The murderer was immediately lynched, and ghostly Fergus showed up every October, as did many of the former residents of Moonstone Lake. The two witches were just grateful that not all of the spirits showed up every year, or the corporeal residents would be heavily outnumbered. They had no idea how the ghosts decided each year who would appear and who wouldn't, and they were certain they were better off not knowing the logistics. The only constant was Fergus, who showed up every year without fail. Blair was convinced the young ghost had a crush on Stasi, but Stasi was positive his interest was centered on Blair, even if she tended to shock his boyish sensibilities.

“Disturbing how?” Blair settled back in her chair and crossed her legs. When she crossed her legs, her robe opened to reveal her thighs as she bobbed her foot in her marabou mule up and down to a tune only she could hear. She sipped her coffee, sighing with relief as the caffeine coursed through her system.

All the witches might not agree on everything, but they did agree that coffee was essential to get going in the morning.

Stasi tapped her nails against the tabletop in thought. “We have a lunar eclipse coming up along with Mercury retrograde, but there's something else in the air that doesn't feel right and I haven't been able to pin down the source. I couldn't sleep and I looked out the window at the woods last night and…”

“And?” Blair waggled her free hand asking for more.

Stasi shook her head. “And, I have no clue what, but something out there didn't feel right.” She turned back to Fergus, who was perched uneasily on the chair. “What do the others say? Do they sense anything more specific, or just have the feeling that something isn't right?”

“You know how they can be. Lot of them don't talk much. Clyde just mutters a lot about his claim, and ole Bill says there's evil here and he ain't comin' out this year,” he admitted. “We were all hopin' you'd know what's goin' on. You all bein' witches and all.” He looked longingly at the coffee they drank. “That sure looks good.”

Stasi felt sorry for the spirit, but knew offering him food and drink would only mean she'd have a mess to clean up, since it would go right through him. And he couldn't taste it, anyway.

“All I can do is some research to see what's going on,” she said. “But with the lunar eclipse and Mercury retrograde happening at the same time, the energy might be interfering with your realm. We're feeling upsets here, too.”

Fergus's head bobbed up and down, but his worry hadn't gone away. “It's just that… some of us are fadin.'”

“We told you long ago that you needed to move on,” Blair said gently. “That you couldn't stay chained to earth forever. I know some of you moved on, but this could mean it's some of the others' turn to leave the realm.”

“I don't want to go anywhere else. I got nothin' but you two,” Fergus admitted. “My ma took off when I was three and my pa died when I was ten.”

Stasi remembered when the young man used to come into the café for an occasional dinner. He had been shy and polite and blushed if any woman even smiled at him. That hadn't changed just because he was long dead.

“Why don't you go back and talk to the others, see what they feel, and have them give you some sort of idea,” Stasi suggested. “Then come back and tell us. But please don't come early in the morning or the middle of the night. While you don't need sleep any longer, we do.”

He nodded. “All right. Ladies.” He bobbed his head and disappeared.

“Jazz has Irma in her car, we have long dead miners that pop in and out.” Blair yawned. “Why can't we have pets like other people?”

Since it was Stasi's week to cook breakfast, she headed to the refrigerator for eggs and some smoked ham cut into small cubes.

“I still think we need to go out to the lake,” she decided, pulling out a whisk. “We have to make sure nothing's happening there.”

Blair refilled their coffee cups and pulled a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator. She cocked her head to one side.

“Hm, silence on the other side of the door. I guess we won't be having company for breakfast.”

Stasi scrambled eggs and managed to stay upright as Bogie wove a floating pattern around her legs.

She chuckled as a scratching on the back door sounded.

“You spoke too soon.”

Blair heaved a deep sigh as she walked over to the back door and opened it. The Border collie sat on the mat, looking up with a hopeful expression.

“Don't you have a home to go to?” she demanded. “You're not scrawny, so someone feeds you other than us.” She stood back as the dog swept past her.

Bogie looked over, and gave a pained sigh at the larger dog's arrival. Stasi smiled and reached down with a piece of cooked egg for him.

“You have to admit he's well-trained and very well-behaved,” Stasi said, watching the dog sit down next to the table—not surprisingly by the chair where Blair usually sat. For all Blair's muttering and complaining, she never failed to share food off her plate.

The collie raised a paw and whined.

Blair shook her head as she poured juice and popped bread in the toaster, while Stasi finished up the scrambled eggs.

“I have to say that for two hot looking chicks, we must be having a miserable life when we share our breakfast with a lovesick ghost and two dogs,” Blair said, returning to the table with plates of toast.

“It could be worse,” Stasi reminded her.

“As in?” Blair pinched off a piece of buttered toast and tossed it to the dog, who caught it with a quick snap of his jaws. He pricked his ears alertly and cocked his head, watching her intently.

“Smiley Joe could have shown up with Fergus.”

Blair groaned at the mention of the long dead miner. Smiley Joe was missing most of his teeth, and what few he had left were stained from years of chewing tobacco. Not to mention he sported a glass eye that didn't match his other eye color, and had an alarming way of staring at their cleavage with his one good eye as he uttered a low laugh as if he found something amusing. Neither of them had the nerve to ask him what he found so funny. They didn't think they'd like the answer.

“There must be wards we can put up to keep out ghosts,” Blair muttered, sitting down to her breakfast and furry fellow diner. She leaned over and pinched something off the top of the dog's head, then returned to finger comb through his fur.

“What are you doing?” Stasi asked.

“I think I found a flea.”

The dog looked up and curled his lip, uttering a low growl.

Stasi giggled. “I think he's telling you he's flea free.”

“Yeah, well, he needs to have a closer look at the top of his head.”

Stasi shivered from the morning chill and wrapped her sapphire pashmina shawl more closely about her as she walked down the sidewalk. She felt the need for a short walk to clear her head before she opened the shop.

“All I wanted was a lovely peaceful Samhain,” she grumbled to herself.

“Having a good conversation with yourself, Stasi?” Ginny Chao teased. She was a descendant of one of the men who'd originally come to the United States to work on the railroad, then tried his luck in the mines. He proved to be a better cook than a miner, and was successful enough that he was able to bring his wife over from China and open a small café. Over the years, the restaurant was handed down within the family. Ginny had inherited it from her grandmother. She greeted Stasi with a smile as she swept the wooden sidewalk in front of her restaurant. Ginny's Sit ‘N Eat café never lacked for customers, thanks to her down-home cooking and homemade cakes and pies. The town council, consisting of four elders, usually took up a rear table as they debated town business over coffee and pie. Floyd, his honor the mayor, once suggested that it was good for business for them to be there and it wouldn't hurt Ginny to comp their food. She tartly informed them she lost business by them taking over her best table, and they'd not only pay for their food but leave a decent tip, or they could go elsewhere. They grumbled and threatened to move down to the bakery, which offered an eating area, but all knew the small round bistro-style tables wouldn't easily handle four oversized men. So they stayed and paid the bill, along with leaving a tip for their waitress.

Like all the longtime residents, Ginny knew that Stasi and Blair were witches and had lived in the town several times under similar names. Now that the supernatural community was better known and an open secret among the mortals, the two women were comfortable with the residents understanding what they were, even if they didn't know the witches' entire history. Luckily, no one had given them grief. At least, not until Carrie decided that Stasi had used witchcraft to ruin her marriage.

At twenty-seven, Ginny looked the same age as Stasi and the women had become close friends.

“You might want to stay away from Fresh Baked Goods,” Ginny advised. “Carrie's in there holding court telling anyone who'll listen to her that she found the perfect way to sue you for ruining her marriage and that by the time she's finished with you you'll have nothing. She's even hinting you did it because you wanted him for yourself. I'd say she has you rated up there with the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Stasi sighed. “At least I don't have the green skin. Carrie did this to herself, and I'd be more than happy to tell her so. I should probably just settle the lawsuit, but it's the principle of the thing.” She ignored the tiny whisper inside her head reminding her that she did add a little negativity to Carrie's sachet. Even if the hateful woman deserved it, it wasn't something Stasi should have done.

Ginny shook her head. “Don't do it, hon. Carrie's always had a nasty streak and now it's coming out full bore.”

“Maybe she should have picked up a few romance books for inspiration instead of relying on lingerie,” Stasi groused. “That or shop at Fredericks of Hollywood.”

Ginny playfully covered her eyes. “Oh please, the vision of Carrie in crotchless undies and a bra with cutouts is much too painful!” She touched Stasi's arm. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

“For you, yes.”

The two women walked inside, and Stasi settled in a booth by the door while Ginny fetched their coffee. She noticed that Floyd and his cronies were already ensconced at their table. She was surprised when Floyd frowned at her before turning back to his friends.

“Agnes is Carrie's aunt,” Ginny reminded her, noticing Floyd's expression. She set down a tray with two coffee cups and two cinnamon streusel muffins. “Not from the bakery,” she whispered with a conspirator's grin.

“You must cut into their business.” Stasi pinched off a corner of the still-warm muffin.

“Their main business seems to be all the varieties of breads they bake.” Ginny took the bench across from her. “My mother swears by their cinnamon raisin bread. She has a slice every morning for breakfast and even snacks on it during the day. Dad loves one of the rye breads they offer. Everyone seems to have a different favorite.”

“I wasn't surprised everyone was in there when they first opened. We didn't have a bakery, and it was nice to pick up treats on a moment's notice.” Stasi nibbled her muffin. “But now it's as if people can't exist without them.”

“Reed and Poppy have talked to me about selling their baked goods here, but I love making my pies and cakes.” She looked around the small café that had been a town staple for more than 150 years. Stasi remembered when Ginny's great-great-grandparents had cooked under a canvas tent and dished out beef stew and biscuits to hungry miners back in the mid-1800s. It was the beginning of the small café where Stasi and Blair had worked as waitresses when the couple was able to erect a building. They later moved their café down the street to its current, more visible location. Ginny made improvements to keep the equipment up-to-date, but otherwise the interior retained its down-home charm, and Ginny still served up the beef stew and homemade biscuits her great-great-grandmother had been known for.

Ginny sipped her coffee while keeping her eye on the tables and booths, which were mostly empty at this hour. Stasi knew within an hour the place would be filled with the lunch crowd and Ginny's two waitresses would be kept running.

“You know the problem with a small town?” Ginny said, finishing up her muffin. “Everyone knows everyone's secrets. I couldn't stay out one minute past curfew without someone calling my parents. Everyone knew when Rena Madison was having an affair with Adam Baxter before their sheets had a chance to cool down, and it's a known fact you don't go near Mrs. Grover's house on the tenth of the month because she's positive that's when the aliens will touch down and take her up to the mother ship.”

“And pretty much everyone who lives here knows two witches live in their town, even if they take off for a while and return under other names every few decades,” Stasi murmured.

Ginny nodded. “It's because of you two that our town hasn't been gobbled up by developers.” She smiled at Stasi's shake of the head. “How many other towns around here have been taken over by resorts and spas and city folk who want to build expensive vacation homes they use maybe a couple times a year? I remember when that one developer stopped here last spring. He sat in the next booth with a map, sheets showing costs, and pages of notes. He stayed overnight in Lisa's B&B and was gone the next day.”

“Maybe the town wasn't what he was looking for.”

“He was interested in the lake,” Ginny said softly.

That got Stasi's attention. “The lake?”

The other woman nodded. “He asked a lot of questions about the lake, namely the legends behind it.”

Stasi feigned a laugh. “The only legend about the lake is the monster that's supposed to live out there.”

“Some say witches are legends, but they're not. And kids have seen odd things out there late at night.”

Stasi thought of the many nights of the full moon when she and Blair, and sometimes other witch sisters, walked out to the lake for a ceremony they'd begun the first full moon after the town was officially named Moonstone Lake. The word moonstone meant sanctuary, and that was what the lake represented for the witches. The full moon ceremony was one secret Stasi and Blair kept to themselves. They considered it enough they'd come out of the witchy closet to the townspeople, who were willing to consider it a town secret that need go no further, even if Floyd and Agnes thought it had huge tourism potential.

“Hey chicks.” Blair walked in, looking very 1950s in a white cotton blouse with a Peter Pan collar, a bright pink chiffon scarf tied around her neck, a pink circle skirt with a black fuzzy poodle appliquéd on it, white socks, and black-and-white saddle shoes. She'd pulled her dark auburn hair up into a perky ponytail adorned with a matching scarf and pink lipstick on her lips.

“Wow, we need Elvis playing in the background.” Ginny chuckled. “How cute!”

Blair grinned and dipped a short curtsey. “I feel very Sandra Dee today,” she replied, sliding in next to Stasi. “What's up?”

One of the waitresses brought over a cup and filled it with coffee.

“Just the usual,” Ginny replied. “Carrie's working on a smear job.”

Blair's expression darkened. “The bitch needs a major attitude adjustment.”

“Please, don't,” Stasi begged, fully aware of what Blair could whip up at a second's notice. Her revenge spells were one hundred percent effective, and some were long lasting. Stasi had no doubt that Blair would conjure up a revenge spell that Carrie wouldn't forget for a very long time. And in the process, she'd be in so much trouble with the Witches' Council her banishment would never end. And Stasi wasn't about to allow that to happen.

“Carrie's a bitter woman and I really should pity her.” Stasi stared into her coffee cup as if the contents would give her the answers she was looking for. “She'll never be happy because she won't allow herself to be. She looks for a man who follows her lead without looking for a man who truly loves her.”

“Says the woman with dancing hearts over her head,” Blair muttered.

Ginny's head snapped up. “What?”

“Nothing.” Stasi issued a stealthy pinch to Blair's thigh. She glanced at her watch. “We need to open the shops.” She reached for her purse, but Ginny waved it away.

“My treat. And don't worry about Carrie. Some idiot will show up and she'll latch on to him and forget all about making your life miserable,” she assured Stasi.

Stasi manufactured a smile for her, but it wasn't easy. She knew deep down that Carrie was determined to do what she could to make life difficult. And she sensed it wasn't just because her cheating husband didn't return.

“Any reason why you felt like a 1950s teenager today?” she asked, as she and Blair walked up the sidewalk to their shops.

“Just showing Agnes I have team spirit about wearing non-western clothing the rest of the year. October is coming up fast, so I have a limited amount of time.” Blair made her full skirt swish with its stiff crinoline petticoats. “I wore this when I wanted to try high school life, remember? I was even homecoming queen.”

“And flunked geometry.”

Blair waved her hand in the air, but made sure no multi-colored sparkles accompanied her gesture. “Ah yes, Mr. Henderson. Pretty darn cute for back then.” She grinned. “But alas, I was nothing more than a naïve seventeen-year-old girl in his eyes. I should have gone back ten years later to see if he was still single.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I was afraid if I did I'd find him fat and balding, which would ruin my teenage fantasies. And I had some pretty hot fantasies about that guy.”

They stopped at their respective front doors. Blair turned to say something else to Stasi, and suddenly what felt like a blast of cold wind assaulted the witches, and disaster struck. Just as a stately, shiny navy Lincoln Continental rolled down the street, a ginger colored cat strolled down the sidewalk, the woolly felt poodle on Blair's skirt shifted its head to bark at the cat, the feline took off running, and the poodle peeled itself off Blair's skirt in hot pursuit.

“Oh no!” both witches shouted in unison, running after the fuzzy poodle and the cat.

“No harm to any, if you please!” Stasi wailed, throwing out enough of a burst of power to push the cat and poodle out of the way of the oncoming car. The sound of brakes squealing mingled with the poodle's barks, yowls from the cat, and a woman's scream.

“Oh for Fates sake, it's Agnes,” Stasi groaned, as the car jerked to a stop, literally plowing through the dog and missing the cat that had been pushed to safety, thanks to Stasi's magick.

“I hit a dog! I hit a dog!” Agnes leaped out of the car, her face white. She tottered back and forth on high heels that were more than a little dangerous for her plump figure. She ran around to the front of the Lincoln and stared at the empty road. “Where is it?” She looked up at Stasi and Blair, who now sported a poodle on her skirt again. “Where did it go?”

“Agnes, are you all right?” Stasi ran over and helped the woman to the door of her shop. She pushed open the door and led Agnes to a silk cushioned chair.

“I'll park the car for you.” Blair ran over to the vehicle.

“But—”

“Let me get you a glass of water.” Stasi ran to the back and returned with a paper cup.

“What happened? Did the old hag finally lose what little sense she had?” Horace muttered as she scurried past.

“Quiet, you,” she ordered.

“Where did the dog go?” Agnes waved her handkerchief in front of her face and accepted the cup. “I didn't hit it, did I?”

“He probably ran off,” Stasi replied, noting the older woman's still pale features. “Dogs are very quick.”

“You're sure it got away?”

“He was still running after the cat.” Blair walked in. “Your car is parked out front.”

Agnes turned then stared at Blair's skirt where the dog had returned to his spot. “How odd. It looks just like…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Stasi shot Blair a
get out while you can
look. Blair took the hint and beat feet while muttering she had to get her shop open.

Agnes downed her water as if it was whiskey, took a deep breath, and stood up.

“I realize you girls aren't like the rest of us,” she said stiffly, now having regained her composure, “but tricks like that could affect tourists. Although, I'm sure there are some who would appreciate such magickal stunts.”