"Don't," he whispered. "Don't speak to him until he's spoken to you."
"Laszlo," Roman began quietly.
"Yes, sir?" The Coven Secretary fiddled with a button on his lab coat.
"Since Vanda Barkowski has finally arrived, let us proceed to the other suits against her."
Other suits? As in plural? Vanda glanced around nervously. Roman's wife gave her a sympathetic smile.
Anger sparked inside Vanda, and she clenched her fists. She didn't need anyone's sympathy. She was tough, dammit.
Laszlo fumbled through a stack of papers. He drew one page out. Then another. And another. Three pages? Her anger sizzled into a hot flame.
Laszlo gave her a nervous look, then proceeded. "Vanda Barkowski is being sued on three counts. Count one—unjustified termination of employment, resulting in loss of wages and mental trauma. Count two—reckless endangerment at the workplace, resulting in minor injury and mental trauma. Count three—assault with a deadly weapon, resulting in physical injury and mental trauma."
Vanda jumped to her feet. "That's a load of crap! Who's suing me?" Her face burned with heat as she scanned the room. "Where are you, you assholes? I'll show you some mental trauma!"
"Sit down, please," Roman said quietly.
"I have the right to face my accusers." She spotted three former employees hunched down in the back row. "There you are, you bastards!"
"Vanda, sit!" Roman ordered.
She whirled to face him. Dammit, he'd known her since 1950, and he was believing this crap from those whiny troublemakers? She pointed a finger at him. "You—"
She gasped when Gregori grabbed her arm and yanked her down hard onto her seat. He gave her a warning glare.
She drew in a shaky breath. Okay. She needed to calm down.
"How do you plead, Ms. Barkowski?" Roman asked.
She gripped her hands together, knuckles white. "Not guilty."
"You didn't terminate the first plaintiff's employment?" Roman glanced at Laszlo. "His name?"
Laszlo scanned the first page, then plucked nervously at one of his buttons. "He wishes to be called by his stage name—Jem Stones."
Chuckles reverberated across the room, then halted abruptly when Roman cleared his throat. "Ms. Barkowski, did you fire Mister…Stones?"
"Yes, I did, but I had just cause."
"No, you didn't!" a petulant voice shouted from the back of the room. "I was the best dancer you ever had. You had no reason to fire me!"
Vanda glanced back at Jem. "You were trying to sell your services. I run a dance club, not a brothel."
"The ladies were begging for me," Jem argued.
"And you charged them money?" Roman asked.
Jem huffed. "Of course I did. And I'm worth it! I'm the best there is."
Roman looked unimpressed. "The first suit is dismissed."
"What?" Jem squealed. "But I need my job back. How will I make a living?"
Roman shrugged. "It appears you have already embarked upon your next career. You may leave."
Jem muttered some cusswords as he stalked out the door.
Vanda felt a small measure of relief. One accuser down and two to go.
"The second suit?" Roman asked Laszlo.
"Yes, sir." The secretary fumbled through his papers. "Reckless endangerment at the workplace. This plaintiff also wishes to go by his stage name." Laszlo fiddled with a button on his lab coat. "Peter the Great, Prince of P-P-Peckers." The button popped off and rolled across the table.
Roman's wife covered her mouth. The sound of snickering drifted about the room. Even the priest was smiling.
Gregori leaned close to Vanda and whispered loudly, "How many pickled peppers did the Prince of Peckers pick?"
Vanda snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.
Roman lifted his gaze with an exasperated look as if he were asking God, Why me? He schooled his features and regarded the crowd seriously. "Is Mister…Prince here?"
"Yeth!" A slender man in the back row stood. He flipped his long blond hair over one shoulder. "I'm the Printh of Peckerth."
"You were injured at work?" Roman asked.
"Yeth," Peter continued with his lisping voice. "I wath danthing when I thlipped in a puddle of water."
"He wanted the water," Vanda interrupted. "Peter wanted to pull a chain and have ten gallons of water fall on top of him."
"You asked for the water?" Roman asked.
"Yeth. All the little water dropleth were glithening on my bare thkin. I wath incredibly beautiful."
"I'll take your word for it," Roman muttered. "And then you slipped?"
"Yeth! It wath awful. I fell on my nothe and broke it."
"You broke…what?" Roman asked.
"His nose," Vanda explained. "But we fixed it, and it's perfectly normal now."
"It ith not!" Peter planted his hands on his hip. "Now my voithe hath a terrible nathal quality to it, and everyone laughth at me."
The room filled with snorts of laughter.
"You thee?" Peter wiped at his teary eyes. "They're laughing at me. I'm thuffering from emotional trauma."
Roman sighed. "Mr. Prince, your accident was indeed regrettable, but I fail to see how you can hold Ms. Barkowski accountable when you requested the water yourself."
Peter crossed his arms and scowled. "She should have protected me."
"I reset your nose and gave you the rest of the night off," Vanda said. "You were the one who up and quit."
Peter pouted. "I want my job back."
"Is that all right with you?" Roman asked Vanda.
"Yes. I was always happy with Peter's work."
"Good." Roman nodded. "You'll hire him back, and we'll dismiss the second suit. Laszlo, the last suit, please?"
"Yes, sir." Laszlo shuffled through his papers. "Assault with a deadly weapon. The plaintiff goes by the stage name 'Max the Mega Member. " Laszlo plucked at another button on his lab coat.
Roman gazed about the room. "Mister…Mega Member? Will you describe the alleged incident?"
"Alleged, my ass." Max jumped up from his seat. "She put a three-inch hole in my chest. If she'd hit my heart, I would have perished on the spot!"
"My mistake," Vanda muttered. "My aim was off."
"Then you admit to injuring this man?" Roman asked.
"He was calling me filthy names in front of my employees," Vanda explained. "I couldn't let him get away with that."
Roman frowned. "I believe firing him would have been a more reasonable course of action than stabbing him."
"She did fire me!" Max shouted. "The bitch claimed I was a lousy dancer, and that's total bullshit."
"You are a lousy dancer!" Vanda turned to Roman. "He did a dance with a fifteen-foot-long python, and it got loose and wrapped itself around one of my customers. She had to teleport away before it could crush her. I told Max to take his snake and hit the road."
Roman nodded. "A logical decision."
"But the bitch attacked me!" Max bellowed.
"Only after you verbally assaulted me!" Vanda shouted.
"What did you attack him with?" Roman asked.
"I wasn't going anywhere near him as long as he had that damned snake, so I grabbed one of my shoes and threw it at him." Vanda shrugged. "I guess I threw it kinda hard cause the stiletto heel sorta stuck in his chest."
"She nearly killed me!" Max hollered.
"And you nearly killed a customer with your snake," Roman reminded him. "Did your injury heal itself during your death-sleep?"
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't make it okay for her to attack me."
Roman drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I am not going to find fault with a woman defending herself against a verbally abusive male."
"Yes!" Vanda punched the air.
"I'm not finished." Roman gave her a stern look. "Your method of defense was inappropriate. I'm sure you have some kind of security who could have removed Mr. Mega Member from the premises."