Dime Store Magic (Otherworld 3)

"Oh, please. That's for Coven witches. A real witch works with anyone who can help her. A sorcerer lawyer could help, as long as we picked carefully. Most of them are real jerks--they won't have anything to do with witches--but Mom knew a few who'd take a case like this, if you paid them enough."

"I'm not hiring a sorcerer. I'm getting a human lawyer."

"Are you serious? Don't be stupid, Paige. You can't--"

"Why can't I? They won't be expecting it. If I get a human lawyer, Leah will need to handle this case by the books. The human law books. No secret meetings discussing sorcerers and Cabals--"

"What about the Cabals?"

"I'm just saying, they can't talk about that kind of thing in front of a human lawyer. If they want to play by human laws, let them. I'll play right along."

She frowned, and leaned back into the sofa cushions. "That might not be such a stupid idea after all."

"Glad you approve."

Friday morning started off feeling very familiar. Like the day before, I decided to keep Savannah home from school, picked up her assignments, took her to Abby's, then returned to the Carys' law office for another ten o'clock meeting.

This time my meeting was with Grant Cary, Jr. Yes, I chose Grant junior. Despite my misgivings about the guy's moral compass, he was a good lawyer. He knew me ... well, not as well as he'd like, but well enough. When I spoke to him on the phone yesterday, he seemed interested in the case and we'd arranged to meet at ten. I'd set up a conference with Leah and Sandford for eleven.

I'd been sitting in Cary's office for twenty minutes, gazing out the oversized window behind his desk while he read through my papers. So far everything had gone well. Other than a lingering look at my boobs when I walked in, he hadn't done anything untoward. I'd probably been too harsh on the guy. I seemed to attract a lot of Cary-types--forty-something married guys who see me, if not as a gorgeous blonde who'd look great on their arm, than as a young woman who might enjoy and appreciate the attention of an older man.

From what I'd seen of Grantham Cary, Jr., he likely hit on every younger woman he met. You know the type. All-American boy of 1975, the town's brightest star, every girl in town wetting her pants if he so much as looked at her. Fast-forward to 2001. His weekly golf game no longer keeps his love handles in check, he's recently resorted to a slight comb-over to cover that growing bald spot, he squints to avoid wearing the bifocals he hides in his desk drawer, and he spends his days in an office filled with decades-old sports trophies. Still a good-looking guy, but these days more likely to be coveted for his bank account than his biceps.

"Well," Cary said, returning the last sheet to the stack. "This certainly is unusual."

"I--I can explain," I said. I could?

"Let me guess," Cary said. "You're not really a witch and this is simply a ploy to gain custody of Savannah by dredging up an uncomfortable element of East Falls's past and playing on the historical paranoia of this particular region of New England."

"Uh, yes," I said. "Something like that."

Cary laughed. "Don't worry, Paige. It's a very transparent scheme obviously dreamed up by folks who don't know much about modern-day Massachusetts. You say this man, Kristof Nast, has no proof that he's Savannah's father? But I assume he's willing to submit to a DNA test?"

"DNA?"

"We can't just take his say-so on the matter."

Of course they couldn't. This was a human court, which played by human rules. A court that wouldn't understand why Kristof Nast couldn't submit DNA. Any supernatural knew that we couldn't risk having humans study our DNA, but to a human judge, it was evidence so easily given that to refuse would be tantamount to an admission of fraud.

"He won't give DNA," I said.

Cary's brows shot up. "Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely," I said, breaking into a grin. "Is that good?"

Cary leaned back in his chair and laughed. "That's better than good. It's wonderful, Paige. If Sandford's client refuses to submit DNA, he has no case. I'll see to it."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "You haven't seen my bill."

He laughed loudly, as if unaware this was a very old joke, but I was in the mood to be generous, so I laughed along. We spent the next thirty minutes discussing the case. Then we wrapped it up and prepared for the meeting with Leah and Sandford. I hadn't told them Cary was representing me. They thought they were coming for a private conference with me.

I do love surprises.

I was sitting in the meeting room, alone, when Lacey ushered in Sandford and Leah on the dot of eleven o'clock. Cary had agreed to wait a few minutes before joining us.

Leah fairly bounced in, like a kid on Christmas morning. Sandford followed, trying--but not very hard--to conceal a self-satisfied smirk.