50 Ways to Hex Your Lover (20 page)

“Dead fish, the ocean, and whatever bodies the police haven’t found yet.” Jazz climbed out of the car and triple-boosted her
wards on the vehicle.

Irma shook her head. “The last time I saw a woman wearing something like that was on one of those cable programs, and she
was up to no good.”

“Same here.”

“How long will you be in that place of debauchery?” Irma called after her. A hint of fear colored her voice.

Jazz turned around and walked back to the car. She rested her hands on the metal, bending down so Irma could look into her
eyes. “Nothing will happen to you,” she said quietly. “No one, absolutely
no one,
will come within twenty feet of this car. I have made very sure of that. Believe me that if anyone tries they will get a very
nasty surprise they won’t soon forget.”

Irma studied her for several minutes. Satisfied with her statement, she slowly nodded. “Is there a chance you could bring
me a Brandy Alexander or perhaps a Pink Squirrel?” she asked.

“I doubt they serve either drink, but who knows.” Considering Irma’s unease about being left alone here, she didn’t want to
remind her there was no way she’d allow any drink inside Irma that would ultimately end up on the seat. Jazz straightened
up and started for the club.

So much had happened since the last time Jazz had driven Tyge Foulshadow to Klub Konfuzion that she felt as if it had been
centuries instead of a couple of weeks.

Jazz flashed a sexy smile at the eight-foot mass of muscle at the door and was instantly admitted even if a growl followed
her steps. Witches weren’t popular in the club, but money-hungry vampires never turned away a paying customer.

The black and red décor fit everyone’s idea of a predominantly vampire club. Jazz knew many considered it sexy. She thought
it looked more like a dominatrix paradise.

She winced as what passed for music assaulted her ears until they felt ready to bleed. She conjured up a pair of dark glasses
to shield her eyes from the pulsating lights overhead. She wondered how the vampires, with their enhanced sight and sound,
managed to stay in here without their heads exploding. She’d barely stepped inside and she was ready to leave.

Knowing she would need something to numb the pain, Jazz wasted no time in heading for the bar.

“JD, straight up,” she ordered.

The bartender peered closely at her. “Anything else to go with it?”

She lowered the dark glasses just enough to reveal eyes that didn’t show a hint of red. “Just the JD.” The last thing she
wanted was a Type O chaser.

With her drink in hand, Jazz prowled the perimeter of the club, nodding at a few she knew, glaring at men who wanted to get
to know her better, and looking for Dweezil. Her frustration level rose the longer she didn’t see him. The club, with its
techno rock music, gyrating dancers, and young women looking for a one night hook-up, wasn’t her idea of fun, and she wanted
out of there as fast as possible.

As she looked over the dance floor, her gaze moved past then shifted back again. What she saw was enough to make her grind
her teeth down to nubs.

“Oh for Fate’s sake,” she sighed, stalking toward the edge of the dance floor until she reached a petite blonde wearing a
black velvet dress that could double for a napkin talking to a vampire who looked at her as if he planned on making her his
late night snack.As if sensing Jazz’s approach, the young woman turned her head, saw one angry witch bearing down on her,
blanched, and took a step to the side. Jazz muttered a few words and the girl literally froze.

“What part of
you can no longer use magick
do you not understand?” Jazz growled. She refused to believe her binding spell on the sorority Twinkie hadn’t worked. She’d
pushed a lot of power into that spell, damn it!

She gave the girl credit. She didn’t back off. She tipped up her finely-sculpted chin and glared at her through heavily mascaraed
eyes. Jazz wanted to strangle the doorman for letting the girl in since it was obvious she was underage even if she had the
other attributes Klub Konfuzion liked: cute, young, and breathing. “I’m an adult. I can do whatever I want. Paris Hilton comes
here to party all the time.”

The girl’s toothy companion hissed a warning at Jazz.

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh puleeze, would it hurt you to use some mouthwash? Listerine
comes in flavors you know. In fact, why don’t you hunt some down right now? A lot of drugstores are open 24 hours.”

“And maybe you should leave her alone and go on your way,” the young vampire male said, positive she’d immediately back off
when he flashed a hint of fang and red eyes.

Jazz whipped her head to one side and stared him down. She instinctively knew he hadn’t been a member of the high-iron diet
for any longer than a year. “Do not mess with me, vampire. You will not win.” She deliberately pushed enough power at him
that he was forced to stumble back a step. One more push of power guaranteed he left them with the girl whining his name.
She turned her pout on Jazz.

Jazz turned her ire back on the hapless college girl. “If Paris Hilton was ever stupid enough to step one Jimmy Choo-shod
foot inside this club, she would be devoured before she could utter “this is hot.” As for you, you are barely one-third of
the way into your nineteenth year.” Her jaw was so tight it was amazing it didn’t break. “Give me your mirror.” She snapped
her fingers when the girl didn’t immediately comply. “
Now!
”

The girl dug into her miniscule black velvet bag and pulled out a small compact.

Jazz opened it with the reflective glass facing the girl. “Let me make this totally clear so you can go back to the sorority
house and tell the others what happens to stupid girls who try to break one of my binding spells.”

She knew the moment the girl saw her reflection and what she saw in the mirror—nineteen going on one hundred and nineteen
with deep wrinkles, age spots, and a nasty twitch below the right eye, just because Jazz felt like inflicting one on her.
She so hated it when people didn’t follow her rules.

The girl gasped and took off as fast as her four-inch heels could take her.

“Now you’re scaring children? Man, you really can be a bitch, can’t you?” Dweezil looked over her shoulder. His gaze lingered
on her cleavage then slid away before Jazz could witch-slap him.

Jazz held out her palm, watching the mirrored disc spin in a silvery circle before disappearing. “Good to see you too, D.
If I hadn’t found you in the next five seconds I was leaving.”

Dweezil looked around, started to grasp her arm but her expression had him pulling back. “There’s a booth over there.” He
gestured with the hand holding a multi-colored drink that bubbled up to the top of the glass. Jazz had no clue what the contents
were and she so did not want to know what comprised something that smelled like gym socks left in a locker for fifty years.

The last place Jazz wanted to be was in a dark corner with Dweezil, but she also didn’t want to be here at all and she was
curious to find out why he had called her in such a panic. She figured the faster she listened to him, the faster she would
be out of there.

“Tick-tock, D. I’m on the clock, remember?” She slid onto the cushioned bench. She glared at his rapt stare centered on her
glittery chest.

“Are you bare-ass naked under that skirt? Why the fuck don’t you wear something that hot when you’re working for me? I could
charge triple rates all the time. Maybe more if you would cut holes in that top to show off your tits.”

She leaned across the table. “Forget the maggots, Dweez. Let’s talk leeches. Guess where they’d head first?”

He held up his hands as he took the seat on the other side. “Sooorrryy.”

“Then let’s cut to the chase and you tell me why we had to meet here instead of your office.”

He looked over his shoulder and leaned across the table to whisper, which wasn’t easy to hear with the music blaring overhead.
“Someone’s out to get me.”

She wrinkled her nose against the burnt almond smell coming off him. The creature was seriously stressed. “And that’s a new
thing?”

If she didn’t know better, she would think his skin had turned an even more putrid shade of green. “I’m serious here, Jazz.
I think someone put a curse on me. I need you to take it off and find out who did it.”

Dweezil acting like a total shit was nothing new. Dweezil acting more than a little crazy, ditto. Dweezil actually begging
for help was something new. Jazz sat back and sipped her drink. “Do I look like a Charlie’s Angel, D? I eliminate curses.
I’m not some preppy private investigator who backtracks to find the originator.”

“And without me you don’t have a job except for the shit money you make eliminating curses,” he reminded her. “The cops coming
in and taking my records shut me down for a week before my lawyer managed to get them to give it all back. Then all the fuckin’
cops say is there wasn’t anything there. But they’re still watching me. There’s no reason for them to hang around like that
without some fucker setting them on me.” He sat back and drew in a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll pay you.”

Now Jazz was interested. Dweezil literally offering to give up cold hard cash meant he was seriously worried.

“So where is the curse? Was something in the office cursed?”

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Don’t you find that out?”

“If you’re actually cursed then it could be anything.” She pulled off her dark glasses and stared at him. “I don’t see anything
about you that would indicate you were personally cursed, so it has to be something around you. Give me a starting place.”

Dweezil groaned. “Gotta be the whole fuckin’ building then,” he groused. “Just clean it, okay?”

“Which includes the garage.”

“Whatever it takes.” He nodded miserably, picking up his drink.

She named her price.

“Fifty!” Dweezil almost choked on his drink. “Fifty-thousand?”

“Two buildings, a lot of work involved there. Plus I’ll have to go through all the cars. Or,” she waited until she knew she
had his full attention, “I take twenty-five and I never have to drive Tyge Foul-shadow ever again.”

“He only wants you plus you’re the only witch I have driving for me right now,” he argued. “And he pays in gold bars!”

Jazz waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I don’t care. Take your choice. You can either pay me fifty in cash or pay me twenty-five
and I don’t have to drive Foulshadow ever again.” She picked up her drink and sipped the whiskey, enjoying the bite along
with the look on Dweezil’s face. There was nothing he hated more than giving up money. She just offered him a choice as to
how much he was willing to give up. She doubted someone had cast a curse on him, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She
would check out the buildings first in case Dweezil was right and someone had cast a curse on him. Not that the idea didn’t
have merit. There had been many a time she was tempted to throw down something nastier than a bad case of maggots and she’d
gladly take any punishment given.

Dweezil picked up his glass and knocked back the last of the foaming contents. If possible, his skin was even greener than
before.

“I’ll have the fifty K for you tomorrow.” He stared at her plumped-up breasts for a moment, realized whatever he thought of
saying might not be a good idea and pushed away from the table.

She should have known he would not give in where Master Foulshadow was concerned.

“I will be there at nine.”

Dweezil scowled. “How do you expect me to have the money that early?”

“It’s called that safe you have in your private bathroom.”

He muttered a few choice words under his breath and walked away.

Jazz nursed her drink and watched the dancers.

She was tempted to look around for a partner. She loved to dance, but thoughts of Nick soured the idea of prowling the club.
Her gaze swung past the dance floor to the bar and across the line of patrons with their own choice of drinks. Some of them
drank that special chaser she turned down. She preferred blood running in her veins, she didn’t even want to look at it in
a glass much less smell it on someone’s breath.

She froze and swung her gaze further down the bar to where two men stood resting against it scanning the club’s dance floor.

Both tall. One man dark-haired, one light. They were dressed in typical vamp fashion of black shirts and snug fitting pants
with black leather dusters hanging open. But it was the dark-haired one that snagged her attention. Many of the male vampires
preferred shoulder length hair either kept loose or tied back with a leather thong. Usually it was because the older ones
grew up in an era where all men sported longer hair. Others did it because they thought it made them look sexy. On Hugh Jackman,
yes, but there were still a lot of vamps that couldn’t carry off the look. Nick was one who could carry off either look easily,
but he favored shorter hair. He once said something about lice. She inwardly shuddered at the thought.

As if the object of her thoughts sensed her gaze on him, he turned his head, cocked a brow and raised his glass in a silent
toast.

“Bloody hell.”

Fifteen

Bloody hell,” Nick muttered, echoing Jazz’s words.

Flavius looked over his shoulder. “She looks angry enough to call down thunder.”

“Been there, done that. Barely escaped the fireball the last time.” Nick straightened up.

“What are you going to do?” The other vampire’s lips were tipped up in an amused smile.

“Ask the lady to dance.”

Flavius scanned the bar and smiled at a sultry brunette. “Good idea. I feel the need of some dancing myself.”

Nick made a straight line for Jazz. He noticed her look of surprise that shifted to anger when she saw Flavius was now very
neutral. At the moment he wasn’t bothering with her face, but with what else he could see above the tabletop. All of it good,
very good. If he weren’t careful drool would be dripping down his fangs.

“Would you like to dance?”

She silently rose to her feet, giving him a full view of the whole package.

Okay, now drool was dripping. Jazz, the innocent witch of this afternoon, was now Queen of the Night. Visions of peeling that
bustier off and pulling her hair out of that tight knot assaulted his brain. Correction, ripping that bustier off because
peeling it off would take too much time.

Perfume that prompted thoughts of Jazz’s bare skin and a large bed wafted past him as she walked toward the dance floor. Nick
was next to her in a flash, his arms around her body as they moved to music more suited for sex than dancing. He almost lost
it when his hands encountered bare skin under the micro mini.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he murmured in her ear rotating his hips against hers in a move that was similar to what they had
been doing that afternoon. It wouldn’t have taken much rearranging of clothing for that to happen here and now. And it wouldn’t
be the first time that style of dance was done here.

“Yes,” she tilted her head back, “especially seeing you with Flavius. Not his usual place, is it?”

“He wanted a change from the usual clubs.”

“Yes, I’m sure this is very different than the elegant places he frequents. He used to be good at puzzles. What did he think
the riddle meant?”

He kept his arms around her so she couldn’t move away. “I haven’t told him.”

She kept her eyes centered on his face. “Yet.”

He loosened his grip enough to run his hands down her arms and lace his fingers through hers which only brought their bodies
even closer together. “We can talk about it.”

“Or not.”

Damn stubborn witch.

Jazz wanted to hate him. She really did. Except it wasn’t easy when Nick’s body rubbing up against her brought other emotions
to the surface that raced even hotter and wilder than her anger ever ran.

His nostrils flared. She knew he smelled her arousal, just as she felt his cock heavy and erect against her. She felt herself
moisten and soften, her skin warm under his touch. There were times she wondered if she shouldn’t look into vampire aversion
therapy. Although she doubted it would help where Nick was concerned.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Jazz,” Nick murmured in her ear.

“I can tell.” Her breath quickened as his hips brushed against hers.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet and make out?” She could feel his smile against her temple.

Jazz had always sensed Nick’s emotions when they were together, but tonight their mutual senses seemed somehow headier, more
intimate than usual. She knew the sex they shared on the rooftop had been more powerful than it ever had been before. She
wondered if that had something to do with it since the sex between them had always been intense, but today had gone beyond
that.

Before she knew it, they were out a side door. The heavy iron door barely swung shut before Nick had Jazz backed up against
the building and his mouth slammed against hers.

Whoa baby!
She should have remembered that there were times Nick could generate heat and this was one of themin spades. Jazz felt like
she was ready to go up in flames as he kissed her with the intensity of a man with hundreds of years of experience.

She only took a second to be thankful his drink of choice in there hadn’t included a blood chaser. No matter how much she
wanted to devour him, she would have insisted on a good dose of Listerine first if that had been the case. Instead, she angled
a leg past the folds of his coat and hooked it up against his hip. He grabbed hold of her thigh and kept it pressed up against
him.

Stretch with Nick. Have fun with your health.

Jazz felt her sexual beast rise up and roar big time. Their first time on the roof had been fast because it had been so long
since they had been together. The second time was slow and just as powerful for that
just because
moment. Tonight was different. Tonight was pure raw lust.

Nick growled as he tore away her thong and delved between her labia, finding her hot and wet. He slowly pushed his fingers
inside, finding all the spots that had her rotating against his hand. He slowly withdrew them and brought them up to his mouth.
Jazz couldn’t look away as Nick slowly licked each finger clean. She rocked against his hand as he cupped her mound, his fingers
invading her again.

“This is us, Jazz,” he murmured. “But it’s more than sex. It’s our minds and bodies as a perfect match. No one can give you
what I can give you. And no one can offer me what you do.”

When he leaned in to kiss her again, she tasted herself on his lips.

She ran a hand over the front of his leather pants, finding the bulge that pulsed under her flattened palm. She pressed inward,
rubbing in slow circles.

She saw the fiery glow in his eyes pierce the darkness as his fangs dropped.

The Lady Temptation suggested she lean forward and bite his neck until she broke the skin. Vampires believed the best sex
merged with biting and taking blood.

“You’re right in one way, Nick,” she said softly.

“We are a pair. Except we can’t share blood without you ending up with a major case of heartburn and the only red stuff I
drink are Cosmopolitans.” She felt strung so tight with desire she was ready to snap. “You came to me because of Clive Reeves.
Not because of us.”

It almost killed her then, but she managed to walk away without looking back.

Jazz carefully handled her triple mocha espresso as she exited her car. Considering her sleepless night she only hoped the
triple shot would be enough.

“You never told me what went on between you and Nicky last night,” Irma said.

“No, I didn’t.” She sipped her espresso, savoring the hot rush of mega-caffeine.

“I couldn’t see much from the car, but it looked like something nasty was happening.” The ghost peered at her. “I guess you
didn’t realize the two of you came out along the side of the building where you could be seen from the parking lot.”

Jazz could feel heat rise in her cheeks. She thought she had quit blushing five hundred years ago. Obviously, that wasn’t
the case.

“I won’t be long. Afterwards, we can drive up the coast.”

“Now I know something happened.” Irma never gave up easily. Jazz was about to pay for silence quite literally now. “You never
do something nice for me unless it does you some good too.”

Guilt was something Jazz could easily ignore.

“Dweezil’s paying me a nice sum to find the curse and eliminate it. I’ll buy a nice safe space heater for the carriage house.”

Irma considered the bribe. “I want a new dress.”

“You died in that dress. I can’t change what you died in.”

“I didn’t die in this dress. I was buried in it. Harold must have bought it for the funeral, so his clients would think he
was a generous man.” She sniffed. “I want something hip. I want to look more up to date.”

Jazz suddenly visualized spandex on Irma’s plump figure and she wasn’t thinking a heavy-duty girdle either. It was enough
to inspire nightmares.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised, wondering if there was a spell available that could provide a ghost with a new wardrobe
and if finding one would involve, gagging here, a return trip to The Library. Still, Irma focusing on her clothing meant she
didn’t think about the dwarves working in the garage. This could turn into a win-win situation.

At first sight, Jazz thought that Dweezil was back in business, but then she realized that the dwarves were washing and detailing
the limousines and town cars more as busy work than getting them ready for clients.

“About time you got here,” Dweezil greeted her when she stepped inside the entrance door. He glared at the venti grande Starbucks
cup she carried in one hand. “You stopped for coffee? We have coffee here.”

“Which is why I stopped for coffee first. I wanted coffee that’s actually drinkable. Yours could strip paint.”

“It never bothers me,” he mumbled, going into his office and closing the door. The loud snick of a lock echoed in the room.

“Hi, Jazz,” Mindy greeted her with a sunny smile and a shared look of commiseration. Instead of sitting behind the counter,
she sat at a small square table set up near a window. A stack of papers was scattered across the surface.

“How bad has he been since the police were here that day?” Jazz asked.

Mindy picked up a receipt, studied it, and then chose the appropriate pile. Her long fingers topped with shimmering pink-polished
nails shone in the sunlight. “The usual.”

Jazz sipped her espresso and walked around the reception area. She gestured to banker’s boxes set against one wall. “All of
D’s records?”

Mindy nodded. “The police made such a mess of them it will take me months to get them back into order.” She placed an invoice
in another pile.

“How is business? Did D lose any clients, or are they coming back?”

“Calls were slow at first,” Mindy replied. “Then it seemed everyone learned he was open again and they’ve been calling in
more. But it’s not near what it was before and we’ve been having problems at the bank too.”

“Here.” Dweezil walked out with a manila envelope that he thrust at Jazz. She quickly moved back before his wandering fingers
made contact with her breast. Dweezil tended to cop a feel any time he got a chance even if it meant he’d end up with singed
fingers. Literally.

She made a show of checking the contents and amount. “Okay, I’ll check the garage first then I’ll come back in here.”

“Don’t let them know what you’re doing,” he warned. “If those dwarves think there’s a curse on me, they’ll take off and never
come back. Who knows, they might even sue me claiming I put them in danger when I’m the one whose life is threatened.”

“You could be right, D. This could be all about you.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll be back after I go through the garage.”

“Shouldn’t I come with you?” He asked, clearly hoping she’d refuse. He sighed with relief when she assured him she worked
better on her own.

Jazz stopped long enough to drop the envelope in the T-Bird. “Don’t even think about a shopping spree,” she told Irma.

“Ha ha, the last time I was in J.C. Penney was 1956 and I bought an ironing board for myself and some long underwear for Harold,”
the ghost grumbled. “Besides, if you’re taking me shopping I’d rather go to Nordstrom or even check out the shops on that
Rodeo Drive.”

Jazz walked on to the garage. Since she had been in there other times, the dwarves didn’t think it was odd for her to greet
them and start a conversation. With casual dialogue she was able to learn if any new clients had been around—none—and if any
cars had been out for repairs the dwarves weren’t able to handle themselves. Again, none were noted.

She kept her senses wide open as she walked through the garage, occasionally stopping to touch a tool, finger a piece of equipment,
or even place her hand on one of the vehicles. She took her time, and almost two hours later, she left the garage and headed
for the office.

“Well?” Dweezil practically pounced on her when she walked inside.

“There is nothing out there you need to worry about, although it wouldn’t hurt for you to update some of the equipment and
tools they use,” she pointed out. “And the restrooms are disgusting. Stock up on some cleaning supplies, will you?”

“I didn’t pay you a shitload of money for you to tell me what my business needs,” he grumbled. “Just find and get rid of what’s
trying to ruin me.”

He slumped in despair. “I figured if anyone did anything it would be one of them. I think they’ve been taking booze out of
the cars or watering it down.”

“No way could they water down the liquor and the clients not notice.” Jazz roamed the small reception area. Mindy looked up
once and then returned to her task. Jazz studied her for a moment, noticing the sun lighting up Mindy’s golden-blonde hair
that was pulled back with a mint-green scarf that matched her silky cotton t-shirt tucked into darker green pants. Asilver
ring with an odd looking stone winked a kaleidoscope of color on her right-hand ring finger. Today, there was no denying the
slight points on her ears.When she looked up, a swirl of ethereal color showed in her eyes. Clearly, Mindy had decided it
was past time to stop hiding her heritage. Considering what came into this place, showing off her Elven side made her more
of an asset than a liability.