Wicked By Any Other Name Part 5

"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 appliqued 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 b.i.t.c.h needs a major att.i.tude 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 a.s.sured 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 naive 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 a.s.saulted the witches, and disaster struck. Just as a stately, s.h.i.+ny navy Lincoln Continental rolled down the street, a ginger colored cat strolled down the sidewalk, the woolly felt poodle on Blair's skirt s.h.i.+fted 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 cus.h.i.+oned chair.

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

"But-"

"Let me get you a gla.s.s 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."

"It wasn't a stunt, Agnes," Stasi corrected her. "Just a s.h.i.+ft in energy. It can happen this time of year."

Agnes's narrow features grew even more pinched. "We have honored your wishes by not advertising that witches live here, which could greatly build up our tourism. But it could do even more good at this time of year."

"We have plenty of tourists that stop here without resorting to gimmicks," Stasi reminded her, leaning back against a small table displaying white and pastel cotton bikini pants and bras along with Vicki Lewis Thompson Nerd romance novels. "Moonstone Lake has the look of a haunted mining town during the month of October only. We're not Salem Village, Agnes." A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she spoke of the famous New England village best known for its witch trials in 1692. Not one victim executed during that time was a witch, and Stasi had lived in abject fear that she would be discovered while she lived there. Afterwards, she fostered guilt that she had survived when those who had not one speck of magick in their blood didn't.

Agnes sniffed loudly and stood up. "True, we aren't, and at least we have a rich history from the Gold Rush." She dropped her handkerchief inside her handbag and snapped it shut. "You and your friend may make light of what Floyd and I do, but we take our duties seriously and this time of year does bring in more tourists than even the summer season. Reed and Poppy may be new to the community, but they are more than doing their part. I hope you and Blair will keep that in mind."

For a second, Stasi seriously thought about darkening the moustache above Agnes's upper lip.

"I plan to start decorating the front windows this week for the month-long event," she replied, following the woman to the door. "Blair and I've always done our part."

Agnes stopped just short of the door. She looked around as if she feared the shop was filled with eavesdroppers. Stasi had to lean over to catch her words.

"I know my niece comes in here a lot," she murmured. "Missy is very fragile, and I would like to ask you not to do anything odd for her."

Stasi swallowed her cough of astonishment. "Odd? What kind of odd things are you talking about, Agnes?"

The older woman refused to look at her. "You know very well what I'm speaking of. As I said. Missy is fragile. I don't like her coming in here thinking her world will be all the better because you offer it."

Stasi could feel her blood start to boil. "Missy is a very sweet seventeen-year-old girl who comes in here to buy sport bras because I carry some with lace. She doesn't need anything odd and I don't offer anything odd." She bit off each word. "If I did it would be nothing more than self-confidence, a sense of sensuality within a woman. It's a state of mind, Agnes, not of the body. Perhaps you should try it sometime."

The older woman straightened up. "After what Carrie has said, people are wondering just what you do give your customers. I'm sure you know that if you do something that isn't proper, we have the right to shut down your business."

"Do not threaten me, Agnes." Stasi was steaming mad. "Trust me, you won't win." Agnes backed up a few steps and hurried out of the store before Stasi could say anything more.

"Amazing, little Stasi has b.a.l.l.s. I'm proud of you, kid," Horace spoke up from his perch on the counter by the register.

"The old biddy," Stasi muttered, watching Bogie appear in his bed just behind the counter. She placed a Snausage in reach. "Maybe if she'd buy some decent lingerie she'd develop a personality that was actually likable."

"You're better off to be mad at her than consider her coming in as a customer. The idea of His and Her Honor doing the horizontal tango is downright scary," Horace said.

"That's nothing I'd like to think about either. But her daring to threaten me was beyond the pale. I should at least have ruined her manicure."

"Ooh, tough talk from scary witch," the gargoyle taunted. "You lost your b.a.l.l.s, Stasi. You need to stand up to that old harridan more. You did pretty good this time, but you could do better."

"I'm not Jazz who can throw a fireball with more accuracy than a Major League pitcher. And I'm not Blair who can come up with the nastiest, grossest revenge spell. I don't like being angry and fighting with people. I just want to make people feel better about themselves, their s.e.xuality."

"Yeah, but you took a stand against Carrie and that was a great first step."

"Oh sure, and it got me sued." Stasi went into her office and pulled a small moneybag out of the safe she kept there. She had no need to worry about thieves.

Anyone stupid enough to break into the safe would think a diamondback rattlesnake guarded her money. And while the bite would feel very real and the sense of venom racing through their bloodstream equally valid, they'd merely have the scare of their lives. To date, she and Blair hadn't had one break-in. Plus, she knew Horace could emit a scream that would shred eardrums. He hated anyone interrupting his fourteen-hour sleep cycle.

No one needed a security system if they had the right magick on their side.

"You forgot to set up the coffee maker," Horace grumbled, making his way to the end of the counter.

"Having a distorted gargoyle is bad enough, but one with a caffeine addiction is too much." Stasi had the coffee dripping into the pot in no time.

"No thanks to this curse, I have few pleasures in this world. After seeing old Agnes, who I'm positive wears old lady panties and one of those girdles made back in the 1950s, no way I want to look up her dress." He covered his eyes with his paws while his horns seemed to swivel in opposite directions.

Stasi poured coffee into a small cup and inserted a straw. She carried it back to the counter and set it in front of the gargoyle, who uttered sounds of joy before latching onto the straw.

"You know that wizard will be back," he said once he'd had enough caffeine to be a bit more personable.

Stasi closed her eyes against the vision of dancing red hearts over her head that she could see in the floor-length mirror near the counter.

"There's no reason for him to come back unless he's here to see Carrie. Maybe someone needs to dump red paint on her head," she muttered, restocking scented sachets that resembled silk or velvet bustiers, wedding gowns, or evening gowns. These she didn't imbue with any form of magick and allowed the scents of vanilla and lavender to do their work instead. The sachets she tucked into each package looked like silken pink or coral roses and gave the buyer a sense of well-being and heightened sensuality. Nothing made her happier than seeing smiles on her customers' faces. A smile that was now on her face as she thought of tourists who would stop by to find lingerie to perk up their day. A smile that disappeared the minute she walked back to the counter and found a sheet of papyrus lying near the register.

"No!" She slapped the counter near the papyrus, but didn't touch it.

Unfortunately, her presence was enough to trigger it. The doc.u.ment rolled upward and actually bowed to her.

"Greetings, Witch Romanov, ye have been served with additional papers regarding the case Anderson vs. Romanov. Please read and respond immediately." The papyrus returned to its resting place.

Stasi's snarl was worthy of a p.i.s.sed off Were as she read the words detailed in elegant calligraphy.

Her fingers flexed, sparks flying around her as she paced the shop.

Horace made his way over to the doc.u.ment and leaned over it. "Wow, she's really mad at you. She wants your powers stripped from you, monetary damages, and even your property. I can't believe the wizard would allow this."

"Well, he would," she said grimly, picking up the box of bustier sachets she had left near the display and shoving them under the counter where they'd be handy when she needed to restock. "He's a lawyer and a wizard. Both are nasty."

"I don't know. Your Eurydice is about as scary as they come."

Stasi's heart skipped a few beats at the name of the head of the Witches' Council and headmistress of the Witches' Academy. The witch was formidable, and not one witchling attending the academy dared go against her. Not until one of Stasi's cla.s.s cast that illegal spell.

Stasi never admitted it to anyone, but she had been scared witless when she stood with her fellow witchlings and was banished to the outside world. She was grateful she didn't know who'd cast the spell. And she knew she wouldn't have survived long if she hadn't been with Blair, who'd been her best friend all through the academy.

Through the centuries, she'd had adventures she couldn't have dreamed of, kept her heart whole-since she knew she would outlive any man she met-and discovered that she enjoyed making women feel good about themselves.

And now she felt as if her life was falling down around her. She bit her lower lip to keep the tears from falling.

"Hey." Horace waddled over to her and hesitantly patted her arm. His leathery wings s.h.i.+fted back and forth sending a faint breeze into the air. Concern wasn't something the gargoyle did well, but he was trying. "It's okay, Stasi. You're going to win. You'll see. That s.k.a.n.k is trying to make you miserable and you can't let her know she's upset you. h.e.l.l, if you want, set me outside her house some night and I'll give her the most miserable night of her life."

Stasi looked down at the stone creature. "Stop looking at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s!"

He shrugged. "A goyle's got to do what he can."

She uttered an incomprehensible word, stalked out of the shop, and headed next door. Blair was dancing to the sounds of Bill Haley and the Comets' cla.s.sic hit "Rock Around the Clock" as she arranged a selection of Madame Alexander Wendy and Ginny dolls from the 1950s.

Blair spun around and caught sight of Stasi's expression.

"What happened?"

"Horace was comforting me."

She froze. "Excuse me?"

Stasi nodded. "He was patting my arm and saying nice things. Well, except for calling Carrie a s.k.a.n.k."

"Horace is never nice. He's a Peeping Tom and a pervert. He's happiest when he gets a flash of breast or thigh."

"He did stare at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s for a second, but I think he was trying to make me feel better. I received another papyrus from the Wizards' Court." Stasi ran her fingertips over the edge of a Red Flyer wagon that sported a hefty price tag.

Blair's crinoline petticoats made a dry rustling sound as she crossed the shop and hugged her friend.

"She wants me stripped of my powers." Stasi's words stuttered around the lump in her throat. "She wants what makes me me gone."

Chapter Five.