Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)

As if that helped.

Judge Watts’s eyebrows shot up. “And cats? You think you need all that money for grooming dogs and cats?”

Roger, given free rein to talk, hurried to explain. “Yes, we need to have rent money, and Barbie needs to be situated right. We are going to replace her vehicle and get her proper equipment so she can be the best pet groomer that Seattle has seen.”

I wasn’t so sure giving that much detail was going to help Roger’s case. The perfect reason to keep my mouth shut and let him ramble.

“The grooming business is expensive to get going; we’ve been talking about it for years.”

For years? If I didn’t know better, I’d think that maybe Roger had been in on getting me sick in the first place.

The judge rolled his eyes. “You realize you’re being taken for a ride? It is beyond me how you landed not one but two beautiful women when you are obviously short more than a few bricks in the load you carry.”

Behind me, Tad choked on a laugh, and I wanted to smack him. I didn’t want him to distract Judge Watts from his train of thought, a train that was headed in the direction I wanted. The last thing I needed was for him to think I had laughed, that I was being disrespectful to him.

I was going to get a proper divorce, and I wanted to cheer. The system did work. I was going to get justice even though I was a Super Duper. Maybe this would mean something to the rest of the supernatural world, but even if it didn’t, it meant something to me. Roger wasn’t going to be rewarded for being a jerk. Sheer giddiness spooled through me like spun sugar floating in the air, and just as sweet.

“I suspect one truly loved you, and the other is in it for the money. I’ll let you guess which one,” Judge Watts said with a pointed look at Barbie.

Barbie raised an eyebrow at him, and tipped her chin high, but said nothing.

“And as I see it,” he continued, “Mrs. Budrene is entitled to all of her inheritance, which, by these papers here, is hers. The house, the inheritance, and half of all joint marital assets.”

Barbie let out a little cry, turned, and stomped from the room. “We’re done, Roger, done!”

Well, that was that, then. I fought the smile that wanted to steal over my lips.

Judge Watts continued to rifle through the papers, shaking his head at a rather stunned-looking Roger. “Perhaps with your next choice of woman, you’ll look for someone who isn’t in it for your money.”

“Is the bakery half mine?” Roger asked, and I bristled. He would go for the throat.

The judge glanced at me. “The bakery?”

I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Vanilla and Honey is the bakery I opened. I borrowed money from my parents to do so, and I paid it back.”

“Did Mr. Budrene work at the bakery?” Judge Watts looked at the papers.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Did he do the accounting? The business marketing? The ordering and receiving?”

“No.”

“Did he do anything at the bakery?’

I shook my head. “No, he didn’t.”

The Judge’s lips pressed to a thin line. “So he milked you for all you had while he bounced with his girlfriend behind your back?”

The crowd tittered softly. It felt like they were laughing at me, and I struggled not to burst into tears. Or cringe. Or lash out. I looked at the floor; it was all I could do.

“I believe so.” I made myself lift my head back up. I was not to blame for this.

The judge nodded. “Taking the length of your marriage into consideration”—he shuffled some papers and peered at something—“you will have to buy him out of the bakery, because from what I see here, this is community property. You acquired the bakery during your marriage. And so as to be fair and equitable, as is the law of our state, I will award you each half of the business. Furthermore, it is my decision therefore to grant the divorce between Alena and Roger, equally splitting those assets that were jointly acquired, along with the debts that were also jointly acquired, and awarding Mrs. Budrene—”

“She had the Aegrus virus,” Roger blurted out. “She didn’t look like this before, and she’s a supernatural now. Some sort of snake thing.”

Like watching my ten-egg soufflé fall, the hopes of making the divorce official, of getting my inheritance back, slowly deflated into a puddle at my feet.

Judge Watts snorted. “A snake thing? And do you have proof of this claim, or are you just trying to get more money from your lovely soon-to-be ex-wife?”

Hope glittered. The judge was still on my side.

Roger nodded, and I had no doubt that it was because he was agreeing with both things. The money and the proof.

My heart rate ticked up a notch, and my hands grew clammy against each other as I pressed them tightly together.

“At the stadium ten days ago, that big rumble with the supernaturals was her and some guy with a sword.” Roger held up his phone. “I got it on video.”

The room spun around me, and I clutched at the table in sheer desperation to keep on my feet. I was going to be sick.

The judge held out his hand. “Let me see this video.” He took the phone from the bailiff and pressed play. The noises from the phone were all too clear to my sensitive ears. I heard my own voice call out, “Achilles,” and I knew what came next.

If Roger got the shot, the judge would see me shift from the beautiful woman he saw standing in front of him into a giant snake that towered over twenty feet tall when I rose up in an attack stance. Fangs bared, multicolored coils writhing as I swept through the stadium toward Achilles to save my brother and my friends.

From behind me, Tad stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. “I know it’s too late, but for what it’s worth . . . I actually thought you had this.”

I had no words. There was nothing to do now but wait for this to play out. Literally.

The judge’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. How could I argue with the truth?

“I’m still me,” I whispered. “I’m still Alena.”

Judge Watts shook his head and handed the phone back to the bailiff, who took it to a rather smug-looking Roger. Then the judge looked at me. Any trace of softness he’d shown me was gone. He leaned forward over his bench, his hands clenched into fists on his desk.

“You are not Alena Budrene. You are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I almost handed you everything you wanted instead of to this hardworking human man.” He shook his head, heavy jowls trembling.

Tad’s grip tightened on my shoulders, and I reached up to clasp my hands over his. He’d been right, all of my friends had been right about this. I’d been foolish enough to believe that with enough proof on my side I could make the system see I really was still me. That even if I looked different, I was still the same woman. Justice was not seen for Super Dupers the same way as it was seen for humans. I was a fool to have thought it would be different for me.