Hex Appeal (16 page)

She nodded. “Like Kirsten Dunst's character in
Interview with a Vampire.
”

“It's the way of our world, Jazz. Just as there are things in your part of the world I don't agree with.”

“I haven't eaten a child in centuries. My oven is for Toll House cookies only.” Jazz picked up her Starbucks and wrinkled her nose at the cold taste but knew the caffeine would help. “Maybe Esme can elude them.”

Nick cocked an eyebrow. “I was an enforcer for over eight hundred years, Jazz. There isn't any way she can elude our kind for too long. We're trained to track without stopping.” He made his way to the freeway.

Jazz thought of the stack of classic horror and sci-fi movies waiting for her at home. After the last couple of hours they didn't sound as appealing as they had before.

“You know, sometimes it would be nice to have a nice normal life,” she murmured. Since she was looking straight ahead, she didn't see the brief look of pain cross Nick's features.

Jazz found herself in a world fashioned of shades of gray ranging from pale ash to a deep charcoal. She turned in a tight circle, but could find no point of reference or any landmark to give her any idea where she was. For all she knew it could be the middle of the day or middle of the night. She had no idea why everything seemed not only dark but also unclear as if she was viewing her surroundings through clouded eyes.

The faint outline of wraith-like figures moved around her, looking as if they floated through the thick ash-colored air. The silence unnerved her the most.

“Hello?” She reached out to touch one of them, and then looked down to see that her arm was the same non-color as the beings that glided around her. Her hand was partially covered by a dark sleeve of what appeared to be some kind of robe made of a coarse fabric that chafed her skin. It was nothing like her favorite plush robe that she liked to curl up in on cold winter nights.

“Where am I? What's going on? What are you? What am I?” she called out, but received no answer.

Frustrated by the silence from the others, she moved forward and discovered she seemed to be floating off the ground as they were. “Whoa, what in Fates is going on here?” She turned and found a familiar figure hovering nearby. “Nick!”

She flinched when the man, wearing a matching robe, turned toward her. It was Nick, yet not him. His skin was the same ashy gray as the other individuals around her. But what well and truly frightened her were his eyes. His beautiful eyes—the ones she likened to the color of the Irish Sea—were dead.

“Where are we? What is this place?” She started to touch his arm then drew back. She hated herself for her reaction, but this...
creature
in front of her was Nick.

His smile was sad and that alarmed her as much as his reply. “We're shades, Jazz. We lost the battle against Clive Reeves and now we are doomed to spend eternity with the others.” He gestured with outstretched arms to include the shadowy figures that drifted aimlessly around them. No one looked at them. It was as if they didn't exist to the shades either.

That was when she noticed the rank odor that lingered in the thick air. It seemed like something tangible that she could taste as well as see and smell. She knew immediately what it was. A miasma of death surrounded them tainting the world she once saw in brilliant colors of the rainbow. Now that universe was nothing more than tints of gray and a dirty hue of white.

She turned her head, seeing a three-story building that stood a short distance away. The gothic architecture was all too familiar and through the fog were tiny dots of red along the base of the building. What chilled her blood, if that were possible, was the hazy outline of a man standing before an upstairs window.

“No.” The word was a brief exhalation of air. “
No
.” This time the word came out stronger. “He can't be alive. We killed him. He was draining your blood and I screamed for justice for all the victims. That's when Irma showed up and...” She paused to take a breath then realized she didn't need to because she wasn't breathing. But it was the look of sorrow on Nick's face that caused her the most pain.

“I'm sorry, Jazz, but that wasn't what happened. He succeeded. You fought him so hard, but he fought back harder. You made him so angry he killed you then he drained all of my blood. He mixed our two bloods together, and with it he became stronger than ever. Now he can never be destroyed.” His sad words bounced around inside her brain. “The hardest thing I ever had to do was to lie there and watch you die and not be able to save you.”

She shook her head, denying what she heard. She refused to believe what she saw around her. “No. This isn't real. It's just another nightmare.” She stepped back from his outstretched hand. She was positive that if he touched her she wouldn't be able to continue to deny his words and they would take on a horrifying truth. “This is wrong.” As she turned away she looked at the mansion again and viewed the monster she was positive she saw die now looking down at her. And smiling. “You bastard!” She started running toward the house even if it felt as if she was slogging through a thick goo. When her feet touched the patio she suddenly bounced off something and fell back onto her ass. Caught up in her fury, she tried again only to slam against the invisible shield that refused to allow her to get any closer. She looked up and saw Clive Reeves sneering at her—as if he felt all the fury and frustration in her body. He held up a crystal goblet filled with a ruby colored liquid and silently toasted her before lifting the glass to his lips.

“You will never win!
Never!
” She screamed so hard and long her voice soon gave out. “Never!”

“Jazz.”

“Never!” She lashed out with her fists, connecting with solid flesh. A muffled
oomph!
reached her ears. Images of the man who caused her death continued to haunt her and she fought even harder.

“Jazz! Jazz!” Her hands were held in a vise-like grip that almost crushed her bones. “Wake up! You're having a nightmare. Come on, sweetie, wake up.”

Her eyes popped open to find Krebs seated on the side of the bed, still holding on to her hands. A faint bruise was already coloring his cheekbone. She could see the slippers huddled in a corner of their magickal cage watching her with fear darkening their eyes. Even Krebs appeared uneasy as swirls of fear magick colored the air.

She pushed her damp hair away from her face, feeling the slickness of sweat coating her skin and the smell of horror on her. When Krebs was confident she was fully awake, he released her hands. She held them in front of her, relieved to see them a healthy pink color but trembling violently as if her nightmare still affected the nerves.

“I...” She struggled to find the right words to explain the terror that still bounced around inside her head. She pressed her fingers against her temples as if the pressure could drive the memories out.

“You were screaming the house down. I was afraid of what I'd find when I got up here.” He rubbed her back and shoulders lightly. “That must have been some nightmare to spook you like that.”

She thought of the colorless world her nightmare showed her. And the idea that Clive Reeves still lived while she and Nick...She swallowed the sob that threatened to travel up her throat.

“What happened, Jazz?” Krebs asked gently, folding his arms around her.

She shook her head then rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I'll never eat nachos before bed again,” she muttered, wishing she could come up with a better lie. She was reluctant to tell him about her nightmare for fear it would return.

“Yeah, try again. I've seen the junk you eat before bed and nothing before has caused you to wake up screaming much less look like death warmed over.” He paused. “Could your nightmare have anything to do with what you and Nick did last night?”

She grimaced at the memory of what she'd seen in the house. A memory she didn't care to have again, nor would she make Krebs suffer by sharing it with him. “I'm sorry I woke you up.” She looked at the windows across the room. The open blinds afforded her a perfect view of the boardwalk in the distance where old-fashioned streetlamps dotted the walkway.

Nick.

Jazz had an intense desire to know that he was all right. That he wasn't the
thing
she saw in her nightmare.

She pushed herself off the bed and ran to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Krebs asked.

“I need to see Nick.” She ran cold water over her wrists and splashed it on her face. She ran her fingers through her tangled curls and grimaced when it didn't make it look any better. “I have to know he's all right.”

“Jazz, it's after four in the morning. I realize that's late afternoon for him, but still. It's dangerous out there.”

She shot him a look as she walked out of the bathroom. “And that's a problem because—?”

“Fine, he's a super night person.” He stood up. “But you're not going alone. I'll drive you over there.”

She shook her head. “I can drive or even walk over. I'm sorry enough I woke you up.”

He shook his head in an
it doesn't matter
gesture. “Look, you're rattled after your nightmare. I'd rather you stay home and calm down, but I know better than to try to reason with you. Still, you shouldn't be driving. Let me get my keys and I'll meet you downstairs.” He left the room and headed downstairs.

Jazz heard the squeaks and chatter from the slippers.

“Everything will be all right,” she promised them as she headed for the door even if she didn't know how she could keep a vow that she had trouble believing.

Jazz was impatiently hovering by the back door when Krebs walked into the kitchen now wearing jeans and a T-shirt and carrying his car keys. He eyed her with a faint frown. “Uh, are you going in your pjs for a reason?”

She looked down at her dark pink flannel pajama pants with Happy Bunny scattered over the surface stating “
Cute but psycho. It all evens out”
and a long-sleeved solid pink thermal T-shirt. The idea of changing her clothes was the last thing on her mind. She needed to see Nick fast and with her emotions in a turmoil casting an illusion spell wasn't a good idea. Fates knows what she'd end up wearing.

“Only ones out at this hour are early morning fishermen and they won't care,” she said heading for the door. Her need to see Nick grew stronger with each moment.

Irma looked up from the Tyrone Power movie she was viewing when Jazz and Krebs entered the carriage house. The dog woofed a welcome as Jazz climbed into the passenger seat of Krebs's Porsche.

“Where are you going?” she called after them but not receiving a reply. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything's fine,” Jazz lied.

With no traffic Krebs made good time reaching the boardwalk parking lot and Jazz was out of the car like a shot.

“Call me if you want me to pick you up later,” he called after her, receiving a wave of the hand over her head that she heard him.

“I'll be fine. Thanks!” She turned around to run backwards and blew him a kiss then turned back around.

Jazz picked up speed as she ran toward the building. A locked front door didn't deter her as she gripped the handle. “Open says me, damn it,” she muttered, pushing her power through the lock. Once she heard the click she pushed it open and raced for the stairs that descended to what had been a Civil Defense Fallout Shelter during the 1950s and Nick had fixed up as his lair. A shot of power on the heavy-duty locks released the steel door that opened with little fuss. Inky darkness greeted her and she could sense Nick's presence in the apartment.

“Light in hand, light to lead, light to see where I must be,” she whispered, holding out her hand palm up. A small flame hovered over her palm giving her enough illumination to avoid the furniture as she made her way to the rear of the apartment where Nick's sleeping quarters were.

She paused to gaze at the man sleeping on the bed. Silence was heavy in the room, but it didn't bother her. She knew there would be no sound of his breathing or even snoring. What she needed was the comfort of seeing him. It brought a relief so strong she almost fell to her knees. She headed for the bed, lifting one side of the sheet and sliding in.

“Jazz?” Nick's surprised murmur was music to her ears as he turned over to face her.

She smiled, happy she'd arrived before he slipped into the true sleep of the undead that came at dawn. While Nick didn't need to rest during daylight hours, if he used his powers the night before, he needed those hours to recuperate. This would be one of those days.

“I needed to see you,” she murmured back, wrapping her arms around him. She felt his smile against her lips as he kissed her. Now she felt complete.

“Nice surprise to see you,” he murmured sleepily.

“I had a nightmare about us,” Jazz said then stopped as she felt him slip from her. There were no windows in the apartment; no way to tell her the sun had finally peeked its way over the horizon. She only needed to feel the literal dead weight in her arms. Nick would be in this vulnerable state until sunset. She felt a tear track its way down her cheek and fall onto Nick's bare shoulder. “Something's happening, Nick,” she continued talking even though she knew he was beyond hearing her. “It's bad. I just know it. And I don't know what to do.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I'm so scared that we won't survive this. I want you to tell me we'll make it.”

Jazz closed her eyes and was soon able to doze off. She knew this time, with Nick's arms around her, she would sleep without bad dreams.

***

Coffee. I need coffee.
Jazz's eyes opened on that thought. She still lay curled around Nick, but he didn't stir. She slid out of bed.

“Time to go,” she said softly. She leaned over, dropped a kiss on Nick's lips, and used a small flame to make her way through the dark apartment. She secured the steel door after her and the same with the building door. Before she ventured further she cast an illusion spell so that anyone seeing her would see jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes instead of her pajamas.

She barely walked fifty feet before a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Any reason why you think a guy can get it up when he sees you wearing Happy Bunny pajamas? I know my dick likes something a lot more sheer.”

I couldn't have coffee and a muffin before facing him?
Or better yet, not see him at all,
she mentally asked as she turned around. She could see that Rex hadn't changed since their last meeting. If anything he looked, and smelled, even more disgusting. And if she wasn't mistaken, he was wearing the same clothing.