Hex Appeal (19 page)

She started to shake her head but agony spiking her skull warned her it wasn't a good idea. “No, it was some really bad-smelling thug with a knife who wanted my money.” Tears pricked her eyelids. “He hit me and kicked me, Krebsie. And it hurt...a lot.”

Krebs looked up as a doctor wearing rumpled blue scrubs walked in with a medical chart in one hand.

“I'll be honest with you, Ms. Tremaine. You are one lucky lady,” he announced, glancing at the chart. “We thought your cheekbone was broken, but only the skin was split. That can easily be stitched up. You also have two black eyes, a pulled tendon in your shoulder, a bruised kidney, some sprained ribs, and your assorted cuts and bruises. You're fortunate to even be alive. Bastards like that usually do some even more serious damage. You could have ended up in a body bag.”

“I should have been able to take him down,” she whimpered, struggling to sit up and allowing Krebs to help her. “Nothing worked on him.”

“You look like a savvy lady, Ms. Tremaine,” the doctor said. “It's best not to fight someone like that. He was probably high on drugs and when they're like that, they don't stop to think; they just react. It's always best to just give them your purse and live to tell about it.” He made some notations in her chart. “We'll get that cheek stitched up, prescribe something for the pain, and there's no reason why you can't go home after that. I'd suggest you see your own doctor within the next few days.”

Jazz liked the idea of going home where she could wallmail Lili and see if she could suggest something to take the pain away. And to think she used to bitch about cramps and headaches!

“Thank you, Doctor.” Krebs held her hand tightly.

“What's wrong with me, Krebs?” Jazz whispered, once they were left alone. “I tried to shoot him with a fireball, but it didn't work.”

He shook his head. “I don't know, baby, but if anyone can find out why it's you.”

She swiped at her wet cheeks with her fingertips. Krebs pulled a tissue from a box on the table and handed it to her.

“I guess it's a good thing my blood's the same as a mortal's or they'd want to send me off to one of those creepy science labs and dissect me,” she whispered, accepting the tissue and carefully dabbing her eyes.

“I called Nick and told him what happened.”

A spark of life brightened her eyes as she looked around, but once she realized the vampire wasn't nearby, the spark died a quick death.

Krebs shook his head. “He didn't think it was a good idea for him to come inside.” He lowered his voice. “I don't think he'd fed recently. He said he'd pick up the car for you and get it back to the house.”

“I want to go home.” She couldn't believe she was whimpering. She hated women who whimpered, but right now she felt like a major wuss. “I want my own bed and my own pillow.”

“We'll go as soon as they finish up with you. I promise.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and gently combed damp strands of hair away from her face.

Jazz considered herself a strong woman. One who could put up with pretty much anything that came her way. She'd battled all sorts of ugly creatures in the past and present. She worked for Dweezil, for Fates' sake!

But feeling as if a big rig truck had driven over her then backed up to run over her again, and the humiliation of vomiting on the doctor's shoes after she received five tiny stitches in her cheek, pretty much finished what was a ghastly day.

“I feel awful,” Jazz moaned, as the nurse later wheeled her out to the parking lot and helped her into Krebs's Porsche. Luckily, the local anesthetic they'd injected in her cheek meant she didn't feel the stitches right now, but she was certain when it wore off she'd be feeling them big time. The doctor had also given her a painkiller for everything else and she should be flying high. Instead, she felt sick and miserable.

“You'll feel loads better once you're tucked into bed.” He paused. “You don't feel like hurling again, do you? No offense, but I just had the car detailed.”

She managed a soft snarl. “I'll try to give you a two-second warning.” She looked out the window and saw the full moon hanging gently in the sky. She should be in Moonstone Lake with Stasi and Blair. Instead she spent the night feeling as if she had been turned into a pincushion. She closed her eyes to shut out the calming picture of the gentle night that was only making her feel more depressed.

She fell into a drowsy state during the drive back to the house. Krebs parked the car outside the carriage house. Jazz blearily stared at her T-Bird parked inside and wondered what happened to Irma since she wasn't anywhere in the building. She couldn't see the dog either. Feeling groggy from the pain meds, she imagined Irma taking the dog out for a walk. Now that would be a real Kodak moment.

“What in Hades' name happened? How could she have been injured?” Nick appeared near the car. A touch of fear darkened by anger crossed his sharp features as he looked at Jazz's battered face.

“Nick!” Feeling better just seeing him, Jazz jumped out of the car and ran to him, leaping up and wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “It was awful! This really smelly, nasty guy beat me up! And he took my new Dooney and Bourke bag! I want you to find him and fang him really good,” she ordered with bloodthirsty relish. “I bet you can still find his scent on me, so you can track him down. Turn him into mincemeat, okay? Take all his blood but don't turn him because I'm sure he'd make a really disgusting vampire. But make him really suffer first. Make him cry like a baby and beg for mercy then tear his throat out.”

She was so lost in her murderous thoughts she didn't see the revulsion cross Nick's features just before he dropped her and stepped back. Jazz yelped as her butt connected hard with the cement driveway. Great! That was one of the few body parts that wasn't hurting before.

“You're human!” he exclaimed.

“Huh?” Not her best moment, but the drugs had totally messed up her thought processes.

Nick retreated another step. His features were still twisted with a pained expression she'd never seen before. “You smell of blood.”

“Well, duh! I just got out of an ER and the creep beat me up! And he tore my favorite top.” She stumbled to her feet and swayed before she caught her balance. She started toward him but he backed up more with his hands up, palms out as if to ward her off.

“Don't come near me.” Nick shook his head violently. “Your blood doesn't smell of magick. It's human. You're mortal.” He pronounced the word as if it was a curse.

Jazz froze at his words. “No, it can't be.
I
can't be. I'm just beat up and messed up because of the drugs they gave me. Doctors in the emergency room love to give pain meds by the dozen. It's just an off day for me.”

His eyes briefly flared red as his fangs dropped. He waved his hands in the air as if he could spell her away from him. “I can't be here. I can't be around you when you're like this. I'm sorry.” He walked backwards then quickly turned around and strode off without looking back.

As Jazz watched him leave she seemed to shrink within herself. She stared into the patch of darkness that Nick had disappeared into. “And here I thought being attacked was my nightmare,” she whispered, ignoring the tears streaking her cheeks and her nose running like a sieve. She was the epitome of the sad waif with her tangled hair, the tiny black stitches bisecting one cheek, her smeared makeup, and torn clothing. The sassy witch had never looked, and felt, as wretched as she had that night. And now she felt as if a piece of her heart had been torn from her. She swiped her sleeve across her nose.

“I feel awful, Krebsie.” Her chin trembled with the onslaught of more tears as her body swayed from side to side.

“I know, babe. Come on.” Krebs put his arms around her and guided her toward the back door. “Let's get you cleaned up and tucked into bed. You'll feel a lot better after you've had a good night's sleep.”

“Can I have hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows to help me sleep?” Jazz asked in a plaintive voice as she stumbled along beside him.

“Sure, you can. Anything you want.”

“With real milk and real cocoa and not the packet hot cocoa you use with water and stick in the microwave?”

“Made from scratch.”

“And cinnamon toast with lots of butter and cinnamon sugar on it?”

“Thanks for asking for something I can manage.” He kept his voice soft and soothing as they went inside the house. “Once we've got you in bed I'll fix you some hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows and a plateful of cinnamon toast.”

“Hello? What happened to Jazz? Is she all right?” Irma called out from inside the carriage house, but her questions went unanswered. “When Nick picked me and the car up at the mall he only said she was attacked by a mugger and he had to go to the hospital. Helloooo!”

“I don't understand how this could have happened to her. She looks terrible!”

“Well, of course she does. She was robbed and beaten! Anyone who'd gone through what she had would look bad. Although, she does look worse than I thought she would. She looks like a black and blue patchwork quilt.”

“None of this makes any sense. Normally, she could take care of a sleaze like that guy without a second thought. He should have been in the emergency room having his body parts reattached, not her ending up with all those cuts and bruises. And stitches! What happened that she couldn't do something to heal herself?”

Jazz kept her eyes closed as she mentally demanded that the voices go away, but she knew that wasn't about to happen. She groaned as she silently evaluated a body she refused to believe was hers. No doubt about it, she was in a serious world of pain. And now she was dreaming that two women were talking about her. Lifting her eyelids proved to be a real chore and hurt like hell as the morning light assaulted her eyes. The only things that kept her from screaming were the women sitting on the bed.

Stasi and Blair perched on either side of her, their legs stretched out in front of them, each cradling a mug of coffee in their hands. The aroma of the rich brew with the tantalizing scent of chocolate and mint was sheer heaven to her nose.

“I thought I was dreaming.” She almost gagged on her words. When did a cotton field end up in her mouth? Oh yeah, Krebs had forced a pain pill down her throat after he helped her undress and get into bed before he went off to fix her hot cocoa and cinnamon toast. She had barely finished her comfort treat when she closed her eyes and floated off to the land of Nod. “I am so glad to see you! But what are you doing here? What about your shops? You can't afford to leave them.” She started to shift her body to give hugs but quickly realized any movement promised pain along with refusing to downright cooperate.

“What? You think you can end up almost killed and we wouldn't come down to make sure you really are all right? No offense to Krebs, but we were not about to depend on his assurance that you're still in one piece. Plus, there's no problem in closing the shops for a few days. Our customers will appreciate us more if we're not easily accessible,” Stasi said. She took one arm while Blair took the other and they gently helped Jazz sit up amid a bunch of “ows” and “oophs.” She reached over to the night table and picked up a third mug and handed it to Jazz.

Jazz stared at the blue plastic cup with a special lid on top as if it would reach up and bite her. “A sippy cup? You're giving me a sippy cup?”

“Trust me. With a mouth that looks like you had major amounts of collagen pumped into it, you'll prefer drinking your coffee this way.” Blair looked ready to cry. “Oh honey, how did this happen?

“I have no clue.” Jazz started to shake her head then realized what a bad idea that was when the world spun around like an out of control Tilt-A-Whirl. She took a tentative sip of her coffee and discovered the sippy cup was an excellent idea for her cut and bruised lips. “This creep wanted my money and I told him his timing sucked since I was coming out of the mall. He wasn't all that amused. I tried to send the mugger a fireball and nothing happened. He was ugly and smelled bad and he started hitting and kicking me. And he took my new Dooney and Bourke bag too.” Her friends offered the appropriate sympathy for her loss. She swallowed the tears that threatened to erupt. “Then when Krebs brought me home from the hospital, Nick didn't want to be around me. He said my blood smelled mortal. That my magick is gone.” Her whimper was sad enough that any woman would think that chocolate had been banned worldwide.

Both witches exhaled shocked breaths. Blair leaned in and hugged Jazz. “Pain! Pain!” Jazz yelped. The other witch backed off a bit with an apologetic smile. Stasi settled for stroking Jazz's fingers and crooning softly over the broken nails and badly chipped nail polish. She conjured up a nail file and buffer and began repairing the damage.

“You need some poultices and some healing spells to heal the cuts and draw out the bruises,” Blair said, climbing off the bed and heading for the wall left blank.

“I tried wallmailing Lili last night but nothing happened.” Jazz rested her head on Stasi's shoulder, watching her smooth the ragged nails. Her witch sister murmured comforting words as she worked. “I think the wall is broken.”

“It works fine,” Blair said after uttering Lili's name, which appeared on the wall in graceful cobalt calligraphy.

Jazz was stunned as she stared at a wall that still appeared blank to her while Blair spoke to it and waited for a reply.

“Is Lili answering her?” she asked, sounding listless as she looked.

Stasi nodded. “Blair told her what happened to you and asked her what we can use to heal your injuries,” she whispered.

“Then why can't I see it?” But she already knew the answer. Nick had been right about her last night. The wall was still magickal, but she wasn't.

Blair's expression wasn't hopeful when she returned to the bed. She climbed back to her spot beside Jazz.

“Lili said our spells won't work since Jazz isn't magick right now. If she was here she could heal Jazz, but she can't leave the hospital right now. They're shorthanded due to a flu epidemic. I know she would come in a heartbeat if it was life-threatening. And she said to use white vinegar to draw out the bruises.”

Jazz's spirits sank even lower. “Great, add a little oil and herbs and I'll smell like a salad. I'm hurt and not on my deathbed, thank the Fates. You know what? I think I'll just remain in bed with the covers pulled over my head until this all goes away.” Then the horror hit her. “But what if it doesn't go away?” She sat up straight, swiveling from one to the other. The pain in her head and body was dizzying, but she did her best to ignore it. “What if I'm like this from now on? What if I remain mortal? I won't be able to work as a curse eliminator or drive for Dweezil. Okay, that's not a total bad thing since he's more sleazy than a slug, but the pay is so good!”

Stasi and Blair didn't have any answers for her, but they were there with their warmth and comfort as Jazz burst into noisy tears that weren't about to stop any time soon.

“Why don't I run you a nice hot bath?” Stasi suggested once the tears started to taper off leaving Jazz with pasty skin and a red nose. She helped Jazz off the bed and steered her toward the bathroom. “It won't get your stitches wet, and you can relax with the Jacuzzi jets running.”

“A bath would be good,” Jazz replied in a small voice, allowing herself to be guided and seated on the commode while Stasi filled the tub and poured in bath oil that smelled like berries and mint.

“My magick can't be gone forever,” Jazz went on, staring off into space. “It must have something to do with my nightmare.”

“You had another nightmare?” Blair asked, standing in the doorway. “You said in your last wallmail they were happening, but since you hadn't mentioned it again we thought they had stopped.”

“I wish they had. This last one was different. I dreamed I was mortal with a husband, two kids, and a minivan, and look what happened? I woke up mortal. I just didn't realize it at first since I hadn't done anything that required magick. Something like this had to have been formed by magick. So if it's because of the dream, the effects can't last forever, can they?” She appealed to her friends.

“Of course they won't,” Stasi soothed, helping her out of her pajamas and gently brushing her hair before coiling it on top of her head and carefully pinning it in place. “You sit there and soak and after your bath I'll help you wash your hair. Just remember not to touch your stitches with a wet hand.”

Once Jazz was in the tub, Stasi returned to the bedroom and searched through the closet for clothing that would be comfortable against Jazz's injuries and easy for her to get into.

“This is bad, Blair,” she whispered.

“I know.” Blair crouched by Fluff and Puff's cage. The bunny slippers wore their most innocent expressions and anyone who didn't know any better would think they were blameless of the accusations that had been leveled against them.

Crushing the T-shirt and cotton lounging pants in her hands, Stasi dropped down to the bed, the clothing falling to her lap. “What happened? How could Jazz lose her magick just like that?”

Blair shook her head. “I don't know. This makes no sense at all. She said she dreamed about having a mortal life and then she wakes up actually mortal. I can't think that the Witches' Council would have done this to her as some sort of punishment. Besides, they always believe in giving warnings first and Jazz didn't mention being in trouble with them. At least, nothing lately.”

“And when you think about it it's not a stunt that Eurydice would do. She's threatened Jazz and many of us in the past, but no, I can't see her behind something like this. Magick is so much a part of our lives and now she's lost that and we have no way to help her.” Stasi absently smoothed out the wrinkles in the shirt she had just crushed. “It was scary enough when Krebs called to tell us Jazz had been badly hurt, but now seeing and hearing her...” she took a deep breath. “She's...”

“I think the word you're looking for is pathetic, which is so not Jazz,” Blair said and Stasi nodded.

Stasi's sunny brown hair framed her face as she looked down at Jazz's turquoise soft cotton T-shirt lying in her lap. With her heart-shaped face, brown eyes, and fair skin she looked like dark-haired Alice. And with power that gave Cupid a run for his money she was in her own form of Wonderland. She made good use of her romantic nature in the lingerie shop she owned at Moonstone Lake. Blair preferred anything retro and owned a shop that carried everything from vintage Madame Alexander dolls to 1950s dinette furniture. Both shops in the small mountain village were popular with the skiing tourists during the winter and fishing and hiking tourists in the summer.

“Nick's right, Blair,” she whispered. “I don't sense a speck of magick in Jazz.”

“I know,” Blair said quietly, sneaking a snack to Fluff and Puff, then offering a treat to the stilettos that sidled up on either side of her with worried murmurs on their lip-glossed mouths.

“I better get in there before she decides to drown herself.” Stasi disappeared into the bathroom long enough to leave Jazz's clothing on the counter. When she returned to the bedroom she found Blair standing before the wall, reading messages written in different colors as word of Jazz's plight reached the other witches. She'd put out the word of a witch-in-need and the “sisters” had responded in force. When the entire class of 1313 had been banished from the Witches' Academy, they were left adrift in the outside world to make their way or die trying. Over the centuries they never lost touch with each other and banded together when it was necessary. The original banishment was only supposed to last 100 years
—
as long as they behaved. 700 years later they were still wicked and still banished.

“This hasn't happened to any of us before,” she said. “And no one has any idea how Jazz's magick could have been taken from her just because she dreamed she was mortal.”

“Which has to mean someone caused this with magick,” Stasi said in a low voice. “There's no way it couldn't have been done without someone wielding a powerful spell.”

“Krebs said she's had nightmares for some time. She's positive they're caused by magick, so this is definitely part of it.”

“Well, if someone wants her to suffer they found the perfect way to do it.” Blair waved her hand, wiping the wall clear of messages. “Jazz without her magick is not the Jazz we know and love. She's nothing more than a hollow shell.”

“Maybe it's like a twenty-four-hour bug and she'll wake up to be her old self tomorrow.”

“And maybe Johnny Depp will show up at the front door and ask me to have wild monkey sex with him.”

“Honestly, Blair, you're so negative!”

Jazz's scream had them racing into the bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her wet body as she leaned over the counter and stared into the oval mirror hung over the sink.

She turned to them, her expression wild with horror. Her ear-splitting wail bounced off the walls.

“I have a zit on my chin!”

***

“Nikolai Gregorivch, you are the vilest, most heartless vampire I have ever had the misfortune to know! How could you abandon her in her time of need? How could you leave her when she needed you most? What were you thinking?” Blair's fury almost melted Nick's eardrums. He regretted answering his cell phone without checking Caller ID first.

“Hello, Blair. How are you? I'm doing fine, thank you for asking,” he said, walking down the sidewalk with a fluid stride. Even though it was late at night and he was walking through a section of L.A. most people would avoid during the day much less after dark, he was left unmolested as if the lurkers sensed he was a bigger predator than they could ever hope to be. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“How I am is nothing compared to what Jazz is going through right now.” She sounded as if she wanted to come through the phone and tear out his throat. Considering her magickal gifts had to do with revenge, it wouldn't take much for her to do just that. “Do you know what she did today?”

He pushed down the sorrow that welled up. “I'm sure you're going to tell me whether I wish to know or not.” He had to keep his emotions in check or he'd be as bad as Jazz was. Leaving her the other night tore a piece out of him, but he had no choice if he wanted to hang on to his sanity. Jazz had stood there, scratched, stitched, and bruised looking so hurt he felt her pain as acutely as if it had been his own.

This time Blair's fiery curses did blister his ears.