Wicked By Any Other Name Part 17

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 sp.a.w.n 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 a.s.sured 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 encompa.s.s 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 rea.s.surance.

"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 c.o.ke 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 s.h.i.+tload 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 c.o.ke can. "Sure thing."

Blair deliberately waited until Jake started walking. Is that a world-cla.s.s a.s.s 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 b.i.t.c.h?" 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 b.i.t.c.h, 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."

"I'm the one with a temper. Blair's the one who believes in exacting revenge. Thea's happiest when her fans tell her how much they love her books. Lili is the absolute best healer in the universe. Maggie's happiest when she kicks a.s.s. And then there's you, Stasi. You have the largest, kindest heart in this universe, and you give Cupid a run for his money because you believe everyone has a perfect match. How many times have you been called before the Witches' Council since we were expelled from the academy? Four, five? Compared to the countless times we others have been called? And your time was only increased because you did what you felt was right. But this time you interfered with a human's well-being. You messed with her love life in a way even Cupid wouldn't have done."

Stasi's expression turned to stone. "You know what? I'm tired of explaining myself and defending myself. Perhaps Carrie should do some soul searching and not worry about what might or might not have been in the sachet I put in her bag."

"Do you mean this sachet?"

"Oh s.h.i.+t," Jazz muttered, looking over her shoulder at the dark-visaged man standing in the doorway. There was no look of the clean-cut wizard lawyer now. This was a man who was furious and wanted everyone to know it, judging by the energy that blasted around him like a nuclear explosion. Even Jazz knew enough to stay quiet.

Stasi didn't move from her spot as Trev walked inside holding a familiar pink silk heart-shaped sachet edged with cream lace. To anyone else, it smelled like lavender. The expression on Jazz's face and the fury on Trev's told her that both could smell the slight difference in it.

"Carrie sent this over to me a little while ago," Trev said, bearing down on Stasi, who, to her credit, didn't budge an inch. "She was afraid it was hexed and hoped I could tell if it was safe. She had decided to cut up all the sachets you'd put in her bags, but for some reason she couldn't cut up this one." He slammed the silk bag down on the counter. "Guess why? I'm amazed you didn't arrange for this one to somehow end up missing or destroyed."

"Out," Nick snapped.

"Good idea. Leave, wizard, until she has her lawyer with her," Jazz agreed, then muttered, "Those red hearts can be totally irritating, can't they?"

Nick walked over and grabbed Jazz's arm. "I meant us."

"But-!" she sputtered as he dragged her out of the shop.

Trev took several deep breaths, but his anger wasn't easily handled. "What were you thinking, Stasi? This is all the proof she needs to show you interfered with her marriage. All I had to do was pick this up and I could feel what you had put into it-and it wasn't a simple feel-good-about-yourself spell like the other sachets have."

"Obviously you didn't go beyond the external layer," she said, amazed her voice could remain even. She had seen Trev smile, seen him laugh, seen his face taut with desire. But she had never seen him furious the way he was now. "There is nothing there that would harm her. Only reveal what she truly is."

Inside, she was a quivering ma.s.s and wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and burst into tears. She refused to show any of that to him or even hint that her emotions were on overload.

Trev's jaw could have doubled as granite as he pushed his face into hers. "It is still wrong." She didn't blink. He muttered a few choice curses under his breath as he leaned back. "Do you realize what can happen to you in Wizards' Court? How this transgression alone can warrant having your powers stripped from you?"

"Do you realize what it's like to see a man who used to smile all the time, who truly loved life, turn sad and despondent? A man who after eight months of marriage looked as if he'd aged ten years?" she said softly. "Kevin Anderson is a good man. A genuinely nice man. All he wanted was a loving home and family, and Carrie took all his dreams away from him."

"He's an adult. He had to have known what he was getting into when he married her," he argued.

She shook her head. "Kevin is the kind of guy who looks for the good in everyone, and he wanted to be a father in the worst way. Carrie can be very sweet and persuasive when she chooses to be. Most men aren't looking for a readymade family and steer away from women with children. Kevin was the perfect victim. He wanted a family and she had one. He didn't listen to anything anyone said because he was positive he was what Carrie needed."

"He didn't need to marry a woman with children to have a family."

"Unfortunately, he did. He had the mumps when he was in college. He became sterile as a result," Stasi murmured.

Trev looked down at the sachet on the counter. "I need to take this to the court."

She licked her lips, which felt dry. No wonder, with the icy cold air still coming into the shop.

"I understand. Jazz said she has a lawyer for me. Ask her for his name and anything else can be handled through him, just as you wished in the beginning."

When he looked up his eyes flared with energy and desire so strong, it rocked Stasi back on her heels. She had no warning when he reached out and gripped the back of her head with his hand and brought her toward him.

She already knew the man could kiss and did it very well, but until then she'd never experienced a kiss that literally took her breath away.

His tongue swept through her mouth, leaving behind the taste of his anger. His hold was firm, but she knew if she stepped back he would release her. He was furious with her, but he wouldn't hurt her. She allowed her fingertips to touch his arms and feel the warmth of his body through his jacket. She tipped her head back, allowing his tongue to slide down the curve of her neck and nip her skin.

"You are the most exasperating woman I've ever met," he muttered against her throat.

She smiled. "I'm a witch."

"In more ways than one." He looked up and drew back a s.p.a.ce. He kept his hand cradling her neck while his thumb stroked the corner of her mouth. "I want to help you."

"You're the opposition, Trev. Jazz found an attorney to help me. You told me in the beginning I needed an attorney to protect my interests. You're right. I do." She kept her voice gentle. Not that there was any reason to be angry with him. She realized sadly that she was even getting used to the red hearts that refused to leave either of them. She could see their reflections in the remains of a mirror still hanging on a nearby wall. Trev was showered, well-groomed, and smelled very nice indeed, while she looked like something left out on trash day. She hadn't given much thought to her appearance that morning. Her sun-kissed locks still hung in a tangle and her coral pink sweater bore stains from her morning's work. She didn't need to look down at her jeans to see they were in the same disreputable condition. And yet, the reflections in the mirror, dancing red hearts and all, were of two people who looked right together.

"I'm going to find a way."

His words surprised her. "I know you have to use what Carrie gave you and I understand. I can't hate you for doing your job."

He pushed away from the counter. "Good thing, because the last thing I feel for you is hate." He walked out without looking back.

Once Stasi recovered, she noticed the sachet still lay on the counter, but this time the fabric was burned black and the spell was eradicated. She tentatively touched it with her fingertips, afraid the charred silk would flare up.

And then she cried.

Chapter Fourteen.

"I need to get more boards, then I'll finish covering the windows," Jake told Stasi, tactfully not commenting on her tear-stained face or red eyes.

She nodded, thankful for his discretion. "Thanks. Once that's done, I'll get out of here." Jake went out and she looked around the empty shop, her mind in turmoil.

She set Horace near her bank bag, which lay on the counter along with a box of her bookkeeping records. After today she wasn't leaving anything irreplaceable in the shop. She a.s.sumed her laptop had been spared damage only because she and her friends had come downstairs so fast.

Even with her office unharmed, she couldn't go back there, especially when she was alone. She had shooed Blair out of the store after her place was boarded up. She wanted a little time alone. She wanted to figure out why this was happening. What the trigger was.

Besides Carrie's out-of control hatred and l.u.s.t for revenge.

Instead of perching on her stool, Stasi hiked herself up on the counter and sat cross-legged, facing the broken windows. She noticed people were only walking on the sidewalk across the street, and they barely glanced over, then hurried on.

She sighed. "It's as if we have the cross for plague painted on the front."

"You're not going to cry again, are you?" Horace asked. "No offense, but I don't do well with tears."

Stasi smiled and hiccupped. Then she almost did cry when she saw that the bubble wasn't its usual iridescent color, but held hints of red and black.

"Oh stars, you're in bad shape," Horace groaned.

"You're not being helpful." She sniffed, digging through her pockets for a handkerchief and coming up with zip. Out of habit, she looked around, but there wasn't anything that would help, so she did the unthinkable and rubbed her nose with her sleeve.

"I still say we move."

"And I say no. We won't run away." She knew she could speak for Blair because the sharp-tongued witch wasn't one to run from a fight either.

"And here we thought the lawsuit was the worst of it." Horace picked his fangs with his claws.

Stasi had no warning until she felt a sharp sting across her cheek and forehead. She fell off the counter to the floor and lay there stunned as pain radiated throughout her face.

"What the h.e.l.l?" The next thing Stasi knew, Trev was there, kneeling beside her. She moaned as he carefully eased her up into a sitting position. He pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her face.

"What happened?" Blair and Jazz were there within seconds and both crouched beside her.

"Something hit her," Trev said grimly.

"I'll go upstairs and get a healing poultice." Blair stood up.

Trev frowned as he lifted the handkerchief, now splotched with red. "Don't you heal instantly?"

"Part of our banishment is that we heal like humans." Stasi closed her eyes against the sharp pain crossing her forehead. She lifted her hand to touch it, but Trev gently pushed it back down. "We have healing poultices and our broken bones might knit faster than others, but it's not made easy for us." She suddenly covered her mouth with her hand as a wave of nausea swept over her.

Jazz swiftly found a bucket and set it within reach.

"That blow was hard enough to cause a concussion." Jazz went in the back and brought out a bottle of water so Stasi could rinse out her mouth.

"Please, I'm embarra.s.sed enough as it is! Hic!" As before, the bubble was a tainted color.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Jake walked in carrying a load of boards.

"Did you see anyone nearby?" Trev asked.

He shook his head. "I came around from the back." He stooped down and picked up one of the stones that had struck Stasi. He held it up, one of the edges red with blood. Stasi felt her stomach start to heave again. "Someone took the time to sharpen this stone. This has gone too far," he rumbled. A low growl traveled up his throat.