Wicked By Any Other Name Part 1

Wicked by Any Other Name.

Linda Wisdom.

With love to Yasmine Galenorn and Terese Ramin.

You two have been with me from the beginning of these

books. You made sure I didn't give up in the

beginning, and I only hope I've been able to return

the favor by always being there for you.

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."

-Franklin D. Roosevelt.

"Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"

-Glinda, the Good Witch of the North,.

to Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz.

Chapter One.

"Can you believe this absolute nonsense? I'm being sued!" Stasi stormed into Blast from the Past with the force of a Category 5 hurricane. She held up a sheaf of papers that looked suspiciously like ancient papyrus with lines of gilded lettering streaming across it. The large, embossed seal stamped at the bottom made it official. "And in Wizards' Court, no less!"

"Uh, Stasi, love, I have customers." Blair's gaze darted to the four people prowling her shop, who were now looking at Stasi with fascination. Blair's shop specialized in authentic retro items, from a 1940s Madame Alexander doll to a 1950s chrome table and tie-dyed clothing from the 1960s. It was easy for Blair to keep a varied inventory when her sister witches tended to clean out their closets of personal treasures every so often and were happy to have Blair sell them on consignment.

She quickly held up her hands. "Freeze frame, make it so!" She moved swiftly toward one woman who had frozen in the process of returning a tall Warner Bros. Roadrunner gla.s.s to the shelf, grabbing the gla.s.s just as it slipped from the woman's fingers. She placed it carefully among the other gla.s.ses and turned to Stasi.

Stasi's mid-length sunny brown hair flared around her with a life of its own as she stomped to the rear of the shop. She pulled herself up to sit on the waist-high counter and tossed the papyrus down on the polished surface. "This is insane," she snarled, staring at the parchment so hard Blair was amazed it didn't burst into flames. "Hic!" A perfectly shaped iridescent bubble escaped her lips.

Blair stared at her best friend in amazement. Anastasia Romanov was known for her sweet, romantic temperament and calm, almost placid, demeanor. Right now she looked ready to go off into a major witchy hissy fit, as evidenced by those angry bubbles. This was not the Stasi she'd known for more than seven hundred years! Stasi hiccupped and two more bubbles floated into the room.

"Now isn't the time to get the hiccups! Take a breath," Blair ordered, running a hand through her dark auburn curls. "And tell me what is going on. Slowly!"

Stasi closed her eyes, hiccupped again (three bubbles this time), and pulled in a deep breath, then another. When she opened them, she looked a bit calmer. And when she hiccupped again, only one tiny bubble slipped out. Blair relaxed a little.

"Carrie Anderson is suing me for alienation of affection. She's claiming it's my fault her rotten husband didn't come back." Dark purple sparks shot out over her head.

"Stasi, you need to calm down!" Blair said firmly. She glanced at the front door and promptly set a stay out spell on it. The last thing she needed was someone walking in to find customers playing Statue and Stasi shooting off magickal sparks. "Everyone knows Carrie's totally delusional about things." Blair glanced at the papyrus. "Why would she sue you for alienation of affection?"

Stasi's golden brown eyes glittered with unshed tears that had more to do with fury than sorrow. "She's claiming that I did something to the sachet I tucked into her package that made sure her cheating, lower-than-sc.u.m husband wouldn't return to her and that by giving her a charm that harmed her marriage I interfered in mortal affairs. The 'cheating and lower-than-sc.u.m' description is mine. She's claiming he's the love of her life and she just knows he would have come back to her if I hadn't done something horrible to make sure he wouldn't return. He's, what, her fourth husband? It's a well-known fact that every man she's been with has been driven to cheat on her! And I've never made a claim that the sachets I put in the bags do anything. I make it sound like a joke that they inspire romance, and the customers love it. And it's not as though I can do much more than that, anyway. If I did, Cupid would be on my b.u.t.t faster than a flea."

"Oh yeah, he's real protective of his job and doesn't like anyone interfering in his field," Blair agreed.

"Like most of the people in town, Carrie knows I'm a witch and she thinks my romance sachet should have brought Kevin back to her." Stasi crossed her arms in front of her chest, a full pout on her lips. "So now she's mad at me and wants vengeance. To top it off, she somehow persuaded a top wizard lawyer to file suit against me in Wizards' Court!"

"It can't be done. It has to be prosecuted in Witches' Court." Blair wasn't an attorney, but over the centuries she'd learned more than she liked about witch law.

Stasi shook her head. "Obviously it can, if that bottom-feeding wizard lawyer took the case and filed it. It would be bad enough if she'd hired that one that's on the late night paranormal channel. Herve Rovenal will take any case to defend innocent mortals from the ones who prey on them. But she hired Trevor Barnes!" Her lip curled as she glared at the parchment again. This time a thin wisp of smoke curled up from its surface but was quickly snuffed out-not by Stasi, but by the parchment itself.

"We can't discuss it here," Blair said. She checked the black Kit-Kat clock hanging on the wall. "It's almost closing time anyway. I'll herd these people out once I've unfrozen them and we'll see what's going on. Okay?"

Stasi nodded. "They'll have another thing coming if they think I'll put up with this insanity," she muttered, hopping off the counter. "It's not my fault that Carrie's husband left her! Kevin used to be a nice guy, and she treated him like dirt. I'll make her sorry she started this." She marched to the door, which opened and closed behind her without her hand touching it or the bra.s.s bell hanging over it making a sound.

Blair quickly unfroze her customers, made a sale to a bewildered woman, and ushered the rest out before they realized what was happening.

"Girlfriend's got a problem," Felix, the black Kit-Kat clock Blair had owned since the 1930s, announced from his spot high up on the wall. His large eyes swept from side to side as his tail swung back and forth above a sign proclaiming him Not for Sale.

"No kidding." Blair emptied the old-fashioned cash register that had once resided in Moonstone Lake's general store back in the mid-1800s and tucked the checks, cash, and coins into a bank bag. With the spell surrounding the bag, no thief would dare try to steal it unless he wanted his hands covered in nasty itching powder that wouldn't disappear for years. Blair Fitzpatrick took her revenge spells seriously and did the utmost to protect her a.s.sets. No shoplifter would get away without some serious pain.

"You're going to tell me all in the morning, right?" Felix asked, always eager to learn any new gossip that cropped up out of his range.

"Good night, Felix." Blair blew him a kiss as she headed for the front door. Judging from the sounds overhead, Stasi was upstairs creating havoc.

Stasi slammed the black iron pot onto the stove so hard it was amazing the appliance didn't buckle under the force.

"If Carrie doesn't watch herself, she'll end up a slug out in her disaster of a garden," she threatened, reaching for the large crock that held the various spoons and spatulas they used for cooking. Her fury caused all the cooking tools to jump out of the crock and fly around the room as a visual display of her temper tantrum. Bogie, her magickal Yorkie/Chihuahua, immediately disappeared into thin air with a faint pop. "Or maybe a chunk of mucus." With a twist of the wrist, she set the oven to preheat.

She headed for the refrigerator, violently pulled out a container that held beef stew, and set it beside the stove none too carefully.

"Or a scab. Yes, she'd make a great scab," she ranted, opening the container and bringing it to the pot. "A scab spewing disgusting mucus."

"What are you doing?" Blair raced across the kitchen and pulled the container out of Stasi's hands, almost upending the contents onto the floor.

"What is your problem?" Stasi tried to grab the container back, but Blair held it out of her reach.

"Look at the pot you were going to put it in."

Stasi turned back to the stove. Once she focused on the black pot, which very clearly didn't resemble any modern day cooking vessel, she sagged against the counter and gasped, "Oh no."

"Oh yes." Blair set the container down then carefully moved the pot off the stove. "I don't even want to think what would have happened if you'd used our best spell cauldron for warming up beef stew."

Stasi's pale skin turned even paler as she realized what the consequences could have been. An exploding cauldron would have been the least of her worries. A missing roof-or worse-could easily have happened if mortal products were heated in an object strictly meant for magick.

"I-"

"You're p.i.s.sed off, and you would have blown us into another realm." Blair turned her around and gently pushed her toward the square oak table and matching chairs with burnt orange cushions. On the wall, the coffee-pot-shaped clock ticked quietly and then perked the hour. "Just sit. I'll do this. What is wrong with you, Stasi? You're never like this. We count on you to be the calm one."

"Oh yeah, that's me. Calm, cool, and collected Stasi." She used her fingertip to idly sketch a rune on the table's surface. "Everyone expects me to be the nice one. I'm supposed to be the sweet one. The peacemaker. Not anymore. No more Ms. Nice Witch."

Blair immediately moved to her side and erased the rune from the table.

"You're asking for trouble if you use that one. I'll be the first to say that Carrie's a vindictive b.i.t.c.h, but getting back at her that way isn't a good idea." She turned on the heat under the stew, which now resided in a proper copper-bottomed pot, and then went to work pulling out the makings for dumplings to go with the stew.

Bogie rematerialized and ventured close to the stove in case something tasty should happen to fall his way.

"Where's the parchment?"

"Under the couch."

Blair rolled her eyes. "All right, we'll forget about it during dinner, but I want to look it over later, okay?"

"Fine." Stasi pulled her hair up into a twist that stayed by itself. "But it will only make you mad."

Blair walked over and gave her a quick one-armed hug. "Eurydice won't allow them to get away with this."

Stasi wanted to remind her that with the case under the auspices of the Wizards' Court, the head of the Witches' Council wouldn't have any choice in the matter, but she knew Blair was already aware of that. Plus there was always that little matter from back in 1313 to haunt them the rest of their lives. One of their graduating witch cla.s.s had cast a nasty curse on a member of the local n.o.bility, causing the entire cla.s.s to be banished to the outside world, to return to their realm after one hundred years-as long as they behaved. Seven hundred years later, they remained in the outside world. Which was why Stasi and her friends were still on the outs with the Witches' Council.

Stasi wondered what it would take to make the banishment go away. Fellow witch Jazz Tremaine had destroyed a killer of vampires and openly stated that Angelica, the director of the Protectorate and seated on the Vampire Council, was trying to pretty much take over the supernatural world. And that the wizard who'd created her famous bunny slippers, Fluff and Puff, was plotting to drive Jazz insane. Jazz was already on probation at that point after destroying Clive Reeves and his mansion of evil, but it never seemed to inhibit her. She dove right back into another pool of trouble.

Stasi had always been lovingly accused of being Eurydice's pet, since she had rarely gotten into trouble at the academy. But when the head witch had insisted the culprit step forward, Stasi had stuck with her friends and the banishment that followed. While the outside world was not at all how she'd expected it to be, the centuries she spent roaming the world and her friendship with Blair made it all worthwhile.

Now if she could just make this d.a.m.ned lawsuit go away!

Stasi tossed and turned in the elegant four-poster bed that was supposed to be her haven for sleep. Normally she had no trouble sleeping-of course, she had never had a lawsuit hanging over her head before. Her bedroom was decorated in soft pastels, with linens in shades of pale green, powder pink, cloud blue, and hazy lavender-solid colors on sheets and pillowcases, in misty swirls on her quilted duvet and pillow shams. The cream-colored walls were covered with artwork in the same color scheme, and fat pastel candles were scattered on tables and her dresser.

Except tonight she wasn't feeling the peacefulness of her surroundings. After turning her sheets into knots, she finally slipped out of bed, wrapped a soft woolen shawl the color of rich sapphires around her shoulders, and donned a pair of warm slippers before heading for the outside stairs that led to the roof.

Stasi was proud of what she and Blair had done with their building. Its facade spanned about half a block. The downstairs was divided into their two shops, and the upstairs had been totally renovated years ago. There was so much s.p.a.ce that each was able to have a large master suite complete with roomy bathrooms, and they shared several guest rooms, an extensive kitchen-since they both enjoyed cooking-and a family room decorated for comfort. They had even set up a couple of rooms in the bas.e.m.e.nt for certain friends who had trouble with the sun. Nick, Jazz's vampire boyfriend, could tolerate cloudy days, but direct sun was still his enemy, and the bas.e.m.e.nt quarters gave him vital protection the few times he stayed there.

Thanks to their building's flat roof, they were able to fix up one corner as a small garden in the spring and summer, with chairs, a table, and a couple of chaise lounges along with a comfy swing.

Stasi settled in the swing and used one foot to push it idly back and forth while she stared out at the woods not far up the hill behind them and imagined she could see over the trees to the small lake for which the town was named.

Stasi knew it wasn't her imagination that something was in the air ... literally. It wasn't just the upcoming lunar eclipse coupled with Mercury retrograde-talk about a double whammy! It wasn't even the prospect of dealing with a lawsuit that was fretting her mind. No, there was more going on that she sensed could piggyback on the eclipse and the retrograde, and not in a good way. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but she hoped whatever it was would wait until after Samhain. She wanted to celebrate, d.a.m.n it! She didn't want to worry about bad things happening. She was known as the positive one. So why did these qualms niggle the back of her mind and invade her sleep?

"We're a small town with nothing special about us. Nothing here to worry about," she whispered. "We're all like family. We look out for and help each other."

She smiled when a warm weight suddenly materialized on her lap. Bogie climbed up her chest and offered doggy kisses to her chin.

"I wish the Wizards' Court would accept your testimony," she whispered, opening her shawl then wrapping it around the small dog to keep him warm. "You know what Carrie is like. And you'd be a much better witness than Horace. I'd hate to think what he'd say about her other than his reverence for her perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I need a plan of attack. Not something that Blair or Jazz cooked up for me. Something I can do on my own. They've gotten me out of jams before, but I can't allow them to help me this time. It's my fight."

Her answer was more kisses, then a soft growl as Bogie perked up and looked out past the edge of the roof. Stasi followed his gaze and saw a black and white streak of fur appear at the edge of the backyard.

"Be nice to him," she whispered. "He doesn't have a wonderful home like you do." She stood up and stepped closer to the edge. "If you're hungry, sweetie, come on up," she called out softly.

The black and white Border collie stepped carefully past the last remaining flowers and climbed the back stairs to the second floor. Stasi met him down there and let him into the kitchen.

Pretty soon the visitor was happily chowing down on the last of the beef stew, while Bogie watched him from a distance. The smaller dog's soft growls didn't deter the larger animal from his meal.

"What's going-oh Stasi!" A sleep-rumpled Blair appeared in the kitchen. "You're feeding that mutt again?"

The Border collie sat down and lifted his paw. His tongue lolled to one side in a large doggy smile.

"He doesn't have a home."

"And he's not getting one here. Look at him. He's not some scrawny stray. He looks pretty well fed to me." Blair dug her fingers into her scalp. "For all we know he has fleas."

The dog whined and offered his paw again, bobbing it up and down for effect.

"Fine." Blair accepted the paw and dropped it just as quickly. "But you're still not sleeping here."

"It's cold outside," Stasi argued on his behalf.

Before Blair could take up the argument, the dog loped over to her, stood on his hind legs, and covered her face with slurpy kisses, then twisted around and managed to nose open the kitchen door, running out and down the steps, barking a thank-you along the way.

"Ugh!" Blair gagged, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Dog germs!"

Stasi tried unsuccessfully to hide her smile. "Maybe next time you'll keep your mouth closed." She set the empty dish in the sink and rinsed it out. She filled the teakettle and set it on the stove, then pulled out two earthenware mugs. After rummaging through a substantial collection of tea bags, she selected lemon and dropped them into the mugs while Blair picked up a covered plate and placed it on the table.

"I probably should have brought these out for dessert, but this works even better. Mrs. Benedict dropped off a plate of lemon squares this afternoon," she explained. "She made a point of letting me know she made them and they weren't from 'that place.' "

Stasi shook her head. "Her nose has been out of joint since Fresh Baked Goods opened up last summer. How many years did people tell her she should open a bakery? We all told her she shouldn't give away all her baked goods. But she always said she wanted to create on her own schedule and not have to worry about keeping a shop filled with cookies, pies, and cakes. I think she wishes now she had taken our advice."

"Very true. But it got really ugly when Mr. Chalmers said that their oatmeal raisin cookies were the best he'd ever eaten. He made it worse by going back for more."

Stasi winced at the memory of the day Mrs. Benedict had learned that her devoted beau was unfaithful to her when it came to baked goods. The elderly woman had drawn herself up to her full barely five-foot height and informed the eighty-three-year-old widower who had been courting her for the last fifteen years that he shouldn't expect ever to have another bite of her pot roast and to just forget about Thanksgiving dinner. To date she had kept her word, and he now ate his meals at the local restaurants instead of the widow's cozy cottage. "He cut his own throat with that remark."

"And now he's eating all his meals at Sit 'N Eat and Grady's BBQ Pit."