50 Ways to Hex Your Lover (11 page)

He knew Jazz would fight him when he asked for her help, but if he wanted to conquer Reeves he needed her help. He hoped that
her desire for vengeance would outweigh old fears. He only had to look at the pain on her face to know she still hadn’t moved
past that time. He wanted to see her work on closing up old festering wounds. He waited quietly watching her mull over his
words. The only sound in the room was the soft chatter between Fluff and Puff.

Jazz sneezed loudly. The bright red poppies on the dishtowel suddenly burst into full bloom—for real. She wiped her nose with
a tissue retrieved from the never-ending supply stashed in her sleeve.

“I don’t like hearing this, Nick. That monster’s not supposed to be alive and walking around all these years as if nothing
ever happened. He’s supposed to be dust in his crypt in a mausoleum at Hollywood Memorial Park. Do you know that the night
of the funeral I almost went to the cemetery and scattered salt around the entire burial chamber? I didn’t want there to be
any chance he would try to rise again, let alone be able to…,” she muttered in a broken voice. “And now I find out he’s not
even in there and he’s out inflicting pain on a new generation of suckers.” As she realized her unintended insult, she muttered,
“Sorry. You know what I mean.”

Nick nodded. “The worst part is we don’t know if it will stop there. If he feels killing vampires no longer works toward whatever
goal he’s seeking, he will look further into the magick community. He has to know you’re living here and that you’re more
powerful now than you were seventy-five years ago. Not to mention payback.” She winced at his reference to her killing Reeves.
Or thinking she did.

She pulled the pot back in front of her and picked up the towel. “I hate you.” Any heat in her words was neutralized by the
atomic power sneeze that overtook her. Water from the pot sprayed outward and over Nick’s face. He growled his displeasure
as he wiped the hot scented water off his cheek. A tiny smile tipped her lips. “You should be grateful I left out the holy
water this time.”

Jazz should have known that Nick wouldn’t let her comment go. If her head hadn’t felt so stuffed up she would have known what
was coming next.

What she called his Cossack soul came out as he got up and walked around the table, pulling her up into his arms and capturing
her mouth. She was swept up into the darkness that surrounded him and only felt the hard muscles of a man in perfect physical
condition.

Some things can’t be ignored. You can only
conquer your past if you choose to face it.

But she didn’t choose to face it. Not here and not now. Not like this and not with him. Furious, she practically threw herself
backward. She grabbed hold of the table’s edge so she wouldn’t fall down.

“Don’t ever do that again!” she shouted. “You know I hate you bouncing around inside my head! Why can’t you take it slow for
once? Just give me a chance to take all of this in. You’ve told me shit I so didn’t expect to hear. So let me think it over
and I’ll stop by your office tomorrow night if I feel up to it.” She pulled another tissue out of her sleeve for emphasis.

Nick inclined his head. “I think you’re already feeling better.” And like that he was gone. Jazz frowned at his words until
she realized that her head didn’t feel as stuffy as it did before nor was her nose still running like an open faucet.

“Who knew all it took to cure the common cold was a vampire’s kiss?” she muttered.

Her attempt at humor fell flat as she thought of the task in front of her. She may have told Nick she’d discuss it further
the next evening but both of them knew that in the end she’d agree to help. It was proof she’d lost her mind. Only an idiot
witch would be willing to face the man who’d been heavily featured in her nightmares for the past seventy-odd years. Except
it wasn’t the horror of his raping her or beating her to a bloody pulp that haunted her nights when her subconscious took
over. It was the image of her picking up a chunk of glass from a broken champagne bottle and plunging it into his heart that
fueled her nightmares. She’d been so weak after the attack she couldn’t even call on her magick. All she could do was crawl
across the blood-slick floor, palm the shard, and when Reeves went after her, confident she wouldn’t fight him any longer,
bury it in his chest to the point his heart exploded. So if she had killed him that night, how, at the point of his death,
had he managed to transfer his spirit to his son’s body?

She only knew the bare basics of the kind of magick that was required for such an evil deed. It wasn’t a subject they cared
to teach at the Witches’ Academy except to warn the witchlings that baneful magick was forbidden. She knew that utilizing
such power took one’s soul and all of one’s humanity. The thought was repugnant.

But it also meant that because of what Clive Reeves had done in the past, Jazz would have to enter the devil’s lair once again.
Every ounce of what she was demanded it.

Seven

Jazz tossed the tightly closed bright orange plastic bag marked Hazardous Waste behind her and slid into the driver’s seat.With
her cold gone and feeling more like herself, she woke up ready to do what she’d hoped to do the day before.

“Whatever you have in there smells disgusting,” Irma groused. The cigarette between her fingers disappeared as quickly as
it had appeared. “Just for once can I choose where we go?”

“What does it matter where we go? You can’t even leave the car.” Jazz zipped out of the carriage house garage and sped down
the road. She would be happier when the bag was in Dweezil’s possession and out of hers. After that, she intended to spend
the day gearing up for her visit to Nick’s office tonight. She vowed to keep the conversation strictly business and herself
out of his reach. Not that she could remain out of his reach for long when he could stand next to her before she could blink.
All she had to do was make sure he didn’t kiss her. She usually gave in when he did that. And giving in on anything to do
with Clive Reeves would not be good.

“One of the local cable channels aired a commercial for a drive-in theater that airs classic films every weekend,” Irma informed
her. “If we go there I could see a film on the big screen again. They’re having a Humphrey Bogart film festival this weekend
and showing Robert Mitchum the following weekend. I always thought they were two sexy men,” she said with relish.

“I know the theater you are talking about and it’s all the way out in the Valley. No way am I going out there.” Jazz knew
she should feel guilty that she didn’t do anything special for Irma, but more often than not the woman was irritating as hell.
She’d never asked the ghost to keep her company all these years, and she resented her bickering attitude. However, while Irma
hadn’t realized what she was doing when she cursed herself into the car, Jazz had known what she was getting herself into
when she agreed to take the T-bird and its snarky baggage. All because she knew how sexy she looked behind the wheel. Remorse
snuck in and suggested there was no reason why Jazz couldn’t pick up
The African
Queen, The Maltese Falcon,
and some Robert Mitchum films at Blockbuster as a peace offering.

Irma sulked for a moment more then looked over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “That revolting smell is getting worse.”

Jazz had double-bagged the clothing and sprayed the exterior with an odor killing spray, but apparently it hadn’t helped if
the stench threatened to overpower even her ghostly passenger. “Never mind, it’ll be gone shortly,” she said. At least she
hoped,
she amended; because the reek was rapidly endangering her own sense of smell.

The T-Bird shot forward. She vowed the first thing she’d do with her Foulshadow pay was to buy another leather bustier and
coat to replace the ones she’d had to throw away. Her boobs had never looked better than in that sexy top and the coat was
just plain sinful. She had thought that if she looked dark and dangerous Tyge would finally back off. She should have known
better. The pervert had invited her up to his house for an early morning drink. She declined with no lack of regret.

Nick seemed to like it a lot, too,
whispered the voice inside her head.

No wonder she got sick. Even that short time with Tyge would turn anyone into a plague victim.

Mindy didn’t even try to stop her as Jazz swept through the reception area to the back office. It might have had something
to do with the bright orange Hazardous Waste bag exuding an odor that wouldn’t easily leave the reception area without some
major magickal fumigation.

Dweezil looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk. “Well, look who the black cat dragged in. You were too sick to work
last night, but I see you’re well enough to come in to pick up your pay.”

“The wonders of modern medicine, D. And this is for you.” Jazz deposited the bag on his desk and dropped into the chair opposite
him.

“What the fuck?” He took one sniff and used his pen to push the bag off the desk. It thumped and rolled across the carpet.
“Mindy, get this outta here!” He waited until the Elven-blonde walked in wearing a heavy leather glove. She used two fingers
to pick up the bag and held it a far distance from her body. She carried it out the back door and then returned to the reception
area. “What’re you trying to do? Asphyxiate me?”

“Wow, Dweezil, you’re using words that comprise more than four letters. I am so impressed.” She tossed a slip of paper on
his desk. “Here is the receipt for everything I wore the night I drove Tyge. You can just add it to what you owe me.”

His eyes bulged as he stared at the total. “You bought all new shit? I figured you’d just wear something old and I’d depreciate
it from the original cost.”

“I like the clothes in my closet. No way did I plan to ruin any of them. Better I buy something I haven’t had a chance to
form an attachment to. And you know Foulshadow. He likes his drivers to look good. You told me to do what it takes.”

Mindy swept past again, pausing only to pick up the receipt. “I’ll have it ready in just a minute,” she said.

“I will not drive him anywhere, anymore,” Jazz told Dweezil once they were alone again.

“Hey, no witchy tantrums here.You’re the only one I can trust with him. He’s a valued client who spends a lot of money here.
Besides, he likes you.” He leered at her, his gaze drifting down to her breasts.

“Eyes up, D. Eyes up. He is a total pervert.” She leaned forward. “Did your cleaning crew tell you what he did in the back
of the car that night? His kind can have sex with himself and I don’t mean a hand job either. It’s sick, D.”

“Give me a break here, Jazz. You make good money driving for me. More than you’d ever make with your little curse eliminating
business.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maggots, D. Lots of them. Crawling in places you can’t even reach, much less imagine. It would take
you months to get rid of them.” He reared back.

Jazz smiled. The bullying creature always backed down when he was given a bit of his own medicine.

“You can’t go in there!” Mindy’s sounds of horror were their first warning. Dweezil’s door flying open was their second. It
was what followed that had Jazz sitting up straight.

“Dweezil Quix…” The heavyset man wearing a dark suit with a gold detective’s shield secured to his jacket pocket frowned at
the paperwork he held in one hand.

Jazz helped him out with the correct pronunciation including the clicks and whistles.

“This is a search warrant for your premises.” The man slapped the paper into Dweezil’s hand. A faint look of revulsion crossed
his face as he stared at the two long green fingers that curled around the sheets.

“For what?” Dweezil fairly popped out of his chair, waving the paper around.

“Look, buddy, if you don’t cooperate with us you could find yourself shut down so fast you won’t know what hit you.” The man
glanced at Jazz then took a second look. “Are you human?”

She issued a bright toothy smile. “Me, mom, and apple pie.”

She knew Dweezil wouldn’t give her away. Having a human in the office could save him a lot of aggravation if the cops decided
they didn’t like Dweezil any more than she did. Plus, her plans for the day didn’t include spending time in a jail cell.Another
bustier and leather coat were calling her name.

“May I ask what you’re looking for?” Jazz asked, continuing her friendly female façade.

“You an attorney?”

“Not in this lifetime.” Little did he know she spoke the truth with that statement. “It’s just that I’ve worked for Dweezil
for some time now and he’s always been aboveboard with his dealings.”
So she
lied. She couldn’t receive more penalties for lying as
long as she didn’t use magick.
She had a sick feeling that Dweezil had been involved in something that was less than legal. She’d always sensed he had his
fingers in a variety of slightly shady pies, but as long as it didn’t spill over into her life she didn’t worry about it.
A tickle of worry creased her forehead.
What the Fates could he have done to bring the cops
down on him?

“Well, sister….”
Sister? Did he just call her
sister? What Raymond Chandler book did this guy
step out of?
“Seems your boss here has been dealing some illegal drugs to his customers. Plus we’ve got a good idea he might have something
to do with vampires disappearing.” He did not look all that unhappy about fewer vampires in the city. Jazz had heard that
tax-paying vampires owned many of the underground clubs. The mayor wasn’t about to lose those additional city funds plus it
made him look good to placate the preternatural community. “He cooperates with us and we’ll get out of here as soon as we
can. He doesn’t …,” his voice trailed off, but the threat hung in the air.

“Dweezil dealing drugs?” she laughed. “You have so got the wrong guy. He gets the hives just looking at an aspirin.”

“Yeah, says you.” The cop squinted at her as if he was trying to figure out if she really was human or not.

“Dweezil! They’re taking all our files!” Mindy ran to the doorway. Her blue eyes glowed with fear and a golden unearthly sheen
now covered her skin. Even the tips of her ears looked more prominent.

The detective stared at her as if he was unsure just what she was and at the same time didn’t want to know. He took a few
steps back.

Jazz learned forward and plucked the paperwork out of Dweezil’s hand. She quickly perused the contents. “It says here they
have the right to take all your business records.”

“How the fuck can I do business without my records?” Dweezil jumped up and down like a demented elf.

“You keep that up and we’ll shut you down for good.” The detective’s warning wasn’t an idle threat.

Jazz stood up. Something about this situation didn’t smell right to her. Although after spending time around Tyge, her sense
of smell might not be back to normal yet.

“So which is it? Missing vampires or drugs?”

The detective scowled at her. “Are you sure you’re not a lawyer?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just had a question about the procedure. I am only here to pick up my pay.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you won’t be seeing any paychecks for awhile.”

Now Jazz was mad. Both at his calling her sweetheart and his announcing she wouldn’t get her money. That bustier and coat
were expensive, damn it! She only chose them because she knew she’d be reimbursed. “You said records. You didn’t say anything
about freezing his funds,” she argued.

“You can’t freeze my fuckin’ funds!” Dweezil shrieked, his face now a combination of its normal olive-green shade mottled
with red. Jazz stared at the detective who looked as if he wouldn’t mind pulling out his gun and shooting Dweezil. Sure, D
was a jerk, but this raid smelled like some kind of set-up to her and even D didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. She feared
she was going to end up in the middle of a situation she had no desire getting involved with. Suspicion flared up big time.
She silently vowed if she discovered a certain undead person—correction, creature—had something to do with this she was marching
over to his boardwalk office so she could drive a stake through his non-beating heart.

“Detective Larkin, we found this out back in one of the Dumpsters.” A uniformed officer walked in carrying the orange hazardous
waste bag.

“Open it up,” he ordered. He glared at Dweezil and Jazz. “A pretty clever way of hiding drugs. Hell, the smell alone would
probably drive off any drug-sniffing dog.”

“No!” Jazz sprang out of her chair but not in time. She dreaded to think what it was like in there since she’d secured the
clothing in the bag the minute she got home and undressed.

The officer opened the bag and an ugly grayish-green vapor floated upward. The man’s eyes rolled backward and he dropped to
the floor.

“Oh shit,” Jazz muttered, managing a sickly smile at the detective who didn’t look too pleased at seeing his officer stretched
out cold on the floor.

“Maybe we need to have a talk down at the station.”