Page 4 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
Chapter 2
Cassandra
“Got a case for you, Cass.” Mack sat on the edge of my desk, chewing on a toothpick with the vigor of a lumberjack cutting down old growth pine. “Assault two. Two counts. Possible drunk and disorderly.”
I stared at the inbox stack of folders that precariously teetered two feet above my desk, then over at the six boxes lined up in mini-towers against the wall.
“Give it to Russ. It’s his turn.” I had six DWIs, two protective orders, and a burglary. Besides, I had more seniority than Russ. The partners should be dumping the crap cases on him, not me.
“He’s claiming to be the son of the devil.”
“Then call a psychiatrist as well as sending Russ over. It’s not my turn.” Where was the Mossburg file? That last deposition? It was here on my desk somewhere.
“It’s in Accident. City limits.”
I hesitated, knowing full well what happened inside Accident city limits. Nope. Not my problem. Even though I lived there, not my problem. Even though over three hundred years of my family had lived there, even though my ancestor had founded the town, still not my problem.
“Send Russ.”
Mack gnawed the toothpick. “It’s your turn, Cass. And if he’s really the son of Satan…”
“Are you joking? Lucifer Junior wouldn’t be cooling his heels in a jail cell waiting for whoever was on rotation for pro-bono work. He’d vanish in a puff of smoke and… I don’t know, be burning a church down in Georgia or something.”
Mack snickered. “You got wards in Accident. He’s probably a bit surprised and pissed about that right now, since last time I checked y’all didn’t count demons among your town residents.”
We didn’t. And the only reason Mack knew about Accident and the wards was because the partners of the law firm were sphinx and Mack was a wulver. None of them resided within Accident city limits, but they liked to live, and work, a quick dash away from the town, just in case.
Not that any of this was my business. Of course, if my bosses thought otherwise…
“I’m busy. Send Russ.”
Mack scowled. “Partners say he’s a demon, so he’s your problem.”
I scowled back. “Well if he’s a demon, then he picked the wrong town for a vacation from hell, didn’t he?” Speaking of hell, wherewasthat Mossburg file? “Actually, I doubt the wards are strong enough to cut the balls off the son of Satan. They’re not as effective on demons as I wished they were. He’s a human, a newb. He’s not a demon, and it’s not my case.”
“Son of Satan, Cass. You’re the witch in this law firm. You’re supposed to take care of the rogue supes, even if you’ve decided that you don’t give a shit about Accident and what happens there.”
That was so unfair. Kinda true, but still unfair.
“He’s not the son of Satan and it’s not my turn. Send a psychiatrist, or a priest.” I spotted a file peeking out from under Mack’s leg. “And get up. You’re sitting on the Mossburg deposition.”
“Rogue supe. He offered the warden one wish if he set him free.”
“I hope the warden took him up on that.” I tugged on the file, but two hundred pounds of man-butt held it in place.
“Cass.” There was a tired pleading note in Mack’s voice that finally got my attention. And his earlier comment had stung. Ididcare about Accident. I just wasn’t about to become the witch-in-charge. I wanted to be a resident, to live my life without all the heap of responsibility that others wanted to dump on my shoulders.
Including this stupid case. But if the partners, sphinx or not, decided I needed to handle it, then I better get my ass in gear.
“If this is just another whack-job, I’m going to be pissed,” I warned him.
“Here’s the info. He’s in county lockup.” Mack got up to leave, finally freeing the Mossburg file. “Oh, and make sure you take your pointed hat. Just in case he tries to drag you off to hell or something.”
“I don’t have a pointed hat!” I shouted after his retreating back.
There was a reason I got these cases and it didn’t have anything to do with gender inequality in the law firm. Well, sometimes it didn’t have to do with gender inequality in the law firm. Since I’d gotten my job here they’d been using my particular gifts as an excuse for dumping all sorts of unsavory cases on my desk. That protective order hadn’t been because some woman wasreallycursing her boyfriend. The one DWI guy didn’treallycast an illusion spell at the scene of an accident. And last month’s poisoning had just been a normal poisoning, not a potion brewed in a cauldron under a full moon. Sometimes it was a pain being one of the descendants of the greatest witch in the last three hundred years who’d also been one of the few women to escape the Salem Witch Trials. It was my ancestor who’d founded Accident and cast the wards that made it a haven for persecuted supernaturals. Sometimes it was a pain living in one of the few towns where the presence of supernatural creatures and magic was a given.
But that was why my great, great, great, great, great (five greats) grandmother Temperance Perkins had founded this town. No excommunication. No burning at the stake. Over the centuries Accident had become a town full of werewolves and vampires and harpies and fairies, and most importantly, a town that wouldn’t cast stones at witches practicing the not-so-dark arts.
