Sorceress, Interrupted - By A. J. Menden Page 0,12

Joseph a kiss. “Give my love to your brothers.”

He winked. “Not a chance of that, me darlin’.”

“Like you haven’t already,” London mumbled, but the barb was halfhearted. If she only knew how truthful her statement was . . .

Something definitely had her on edge. All of them were a bit strung out, now that I looked. It was nice to know that when the chips are down, I’m the one people come to. And while half-baked rumors are annoying, annoyance is a hell of a lot better than boredom.

CHAPTER FOUR

The service industry sucks. No matter where you are, be it a cheap restaurant or an expensive bar that also sells magical favors, people sometimes get the mistaken impression that The Customer is Always Right is a law written on a stone tablet somewhere and not a clever maxim of some profit-pushing corporate shill. Or maybe what kills me is customers who discover they get to be right all the time and use that as an excuse to act like entitled asses. Being an entitled ass is my turf, damn it.

Let’s face it, I’m also not a good businesswoman. I didn’t get into this business to serve customers. I was tuning out the enraged neophyte sorceress from the moment she stormed in, with her perfectly done hair and fancy manicure, designer clothes and handbag and all the other trappings that screamed she was trying to be important, and started blabbing on about how I hadn’t done what she wanted. A good businesswoman would at least pretend to care about her problem. All I did during her tirade was mentally lament the fact that the new generation of magic-users no longer fear and respect their elders. Back one hundred years ago—hell, back fifty years ago—there was no way anyone would have dared talk to me like this, and this kind of disrespect was getting more and more frequent.

There were a few exceptions to the rule. London, for example, was one of the youngsters still respectful in an old-school way: while she was insulting and abrasive, she knew when to back off. Older magic-users like Howard, or even Joseph and his brothers, would kid me, annoy me, or even romance me during one of my weaker moments, but they also knew that when all was said and done I’m not someone you want angry with you. Frankly, respect is a two-way street, and those people pay the toll on my boulevard.

The woman in front of me, however, acted like she was the queen of the universe and I was a peasant. The attitude reminded me of the woman from my birthday night dream, and it completely infuriated me.

She started to jab her finger and one of the bodyguards stepped over, but I shooed him away with a dismissive glance. That should have been the woman’s first clue to back off, but she didn’t and instead took a step closer. From my casual sitting position I faced her down, the bored expression falling off my face as I felt my jaw clench and my eyes narrow. In a cold voice, I said, “Silenzio.”

The woman was instantly silenced, and her eyes widened in fear. I could tell from her look of horror that she was still trying to talk and was unable to understand why she couldn’t make her lips move.

“Siediti,” I said, pointing to the chair behind her. She instantly planted herself on it, against her will. I could see her trying to squirm but unable to control her limbs.

“Now,” I said, leaning back on my couch with the air of bored royalty. “Let me make sure that I understand the situation clearly. You came here a few nights ago and wanted your boyfriend sent out of town because he’s cheating on you with a coworker at your shared office. Boy, that’s the same old story, the boyfriend and the best friend. Really, it is. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard it. So is the interoffice relationship thing. Anyway, you’d been casting some low-level annoyance spells—rashes, impotence spells, what have you—but that wasn’t satisfying your need for revenge. So you wanted him far away where you never had to see him again, and where she couldn’t see him either. So nobody gets him and nobody’s happy. Correct?”

Silence. I looked up and noticed her eyes were screaming, trying to communicate.

“Sorry. Parla.”

“Yes, but—”

I cut her off. “No buts. All this, so I used my powers to magically send him away from you and