50 Ways to Hex Your Lover (5 page)

A brief smile touched his lips. Some things never changed.

He slowly moved down the street toward the boardwalk. He knew he’d been right to find her, that Jazz was the only one who
could help him and his kind—the only witch with enough power and enough guts to defy the Witches’ High Council in order to
use it—to help him figure out how and why vampires in the process of seeking an elusive cure to vampirism didn’t return to
a mortal life but disappeared for good.

Three

Krebsie, there is no jam.” A seriously sleep-deprived Jazz stared at the refrigerator’s interior as wisps of cold air tickled
her toes. Five minutes of study and the refrigerator shelves were still as empty as they had been when she first opened it.
Examination of the shelves in the door proved just as futile. Her witchy tantrum had left her so wired the night before that
sleep had proven next to impossible. She woke up feeling so out of sorts she hadn’t even bothered with a glamour spell to
look suitable for the outside world. Instead, her hair was matted against one side of her head and pillow creases tracked
her cheek.

“No butter either.” She glanced over her shoulder at Krebs who sat at the table. He spooned up oatmeal from the bowl in front
of him. “Krebs, my love? We have no food.” She made sure to sound as plaintive as it was possible without shifting to outright
pathetic.

He concentrated on his breakfast, making sure nothing dripped on his navy blue polo shirt and khaki slacks. “Jazz, my love,”
he shot back. “It’s your turn to do the grocery shopping. If you want food, you’ll have to go pick it up.”

Her shoulders hunched over and her head hung down at the prospect of her least favorite chore. “I grocery shopped the last
time.”

“
I
did the shopping the last three times,” he reminded her. “Sorry, babe. You have to step up to the plate and do the job. Pull
up those thong panties and deal with the situation. Or wiggle your nose and conjure up breakfast.”

She flopped down into a chair at the table. “That is so not allowed. And thanks to Fluff and Puff no one will deliver here
anymore. Besides, I have stuff to do today.” She used her favorite excuse. “I have to go by Dweezil’s to pick up my pay and
I have a curse elimination appointment at a sorority house.” The more she thought about the latter, the more she wished she
hadn’t answered the phone a half hour ago. She took the job in hopes that using some magick would dispel, pardon the pun,
the last of her irritation from the night before. Plus she wouldn’t get dinged again since, in a sense, she was using her
powers for good. She hoped the girls hadn’t used some sort of crazy spell to improve their grades or get dates for the next
dance or she would be delivering them the lecture from hell. Literally.

Krebs’ interest perked up. “Sorority house? Are we talking nubile sweet young things running around in crop tops and tiny
shorts and maybe even less? The kind who’d just love to learn the finer art of sex from an experienced older man? Maybe I
should go with you.”

Jazz smirked. “You wish. Besides, at that age they’d see you as decrepit.”

“Shall we compare birth certificates?”

She flicked her fingers at him. A light shower of sparkles fluttered about his head like a swarm of multi-colored bees. “I
think I can handle it. Considering the hysterical twit I talked to a few minutes ago, I’d say these girls’ shoe sizes are
way higher than their IQs. She refused to give me specifics. Said I’d have to see it for myself, which worries me. She said
this is an extreme emergency and begged me to come out today. I’d gather whatever is out there isn’t pleasant.”

“Interesting. It’s an emergency, but you’re not going over there until after you see Dweezil.”

“Her idea of an emergency and mine probably don’t mesh. And since she didn’t use the term life-threatening, I’m not going
to worry.”

She stared longingly at the coffee maker. She really should have gotten a cup before she sat down. A tired Jazz was a snarky
Jazz. “Now do you understand why I can’t go grocery shopping today? And maybe you could stop at the store after your meeting?”
She stared at him hopefully.

Krebs got up and walked over to the coffee maker. He refilled his cup and filled another mug. He looked over his shoulder,
cocking an eyebrow. “Try another one.”

“But I don’t wanna go to the grocery store!” Her forehead connected with the table’s surface. “It’s a mean nasty place with
soccer moms blocking the aisles as they talk to their friends or on their cell phones, kids running and screaming all over
the place. And Fred, the produce guy, fondles his melons while looking at mine. And I’m not allowed to zap any of them!” she
moaned. “It’s so not fair!”

“Stop the whining, Jazz. It doesn’t become you and you’re not going to make me feel sorry for you.” He pushed the second mug
in her direction. “Drink this. You’ll feel more human once you’ve got some caffeine in you.”

She raised her head and offered him a snarl worthy of her beloved Fluff and Puff. “I want toast and eggs.” A glimmer of hope
brightened her eyes. “Do we have any toaster pastries or frozen French toast sticks? Maybe I should check the freezer.” She
started to get up.

Krebs shook his head. “You ate the last of those three days ago. If you’re so hungry, fix yourself some oatmeal. It’s healthier
for you anyway.” He grinned, knowing full well she wouldn’t eat anything that smacked of natural grains or good cholesterol.
Spooning up the last of his oatmeal, he slurped his orange juice before standing up. “I’ve got to go. To make it easy on you
I wrote out a shopping list and left it by the phone.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and headed for the back door.
“Considering we need, well, everything, I am afraid it will take you awhile. So good-bye, sweetheart, and have a wonderful
day.”

“Have a good day yourself, Krebsie, darling. I hate you for making me go to the grocery store,” Jazz sang out in her best
June Cleaver voice. “May you come home and find fleas in your bed.”

“Nah, you don’t hate me.” Krebs grinned and winked at her. “You just want me as a sex toy.”

“You wish, darling!” she crooned.

A few moments later she heard the muted growl of his Porsche roll down the driveway.

Jazz picked up her green and purple over-sized mug with
Wicked
written in bold script on one side and sipped the hearty brew. In her mind’s eye she easily read the shopping list lying on
the counter across the room.

“Healthy food, out.” Black lines ran across half the items neatly printed on the paper. “Fun food, in.” Graceful calligraphy
covered the rest of the lined paper. Health-conscious Krebs would consider the new items listed as nothing more than empty
calories. Jazz considered Hostess cream-filled cupcakes essential to a well-balanced diet and the basis for an excellent midnight
snack.

She finished her coffee and poured a good measure in a travel mug. On her way out she snatched up the grocery list along with
a leather jacket to battle the morning chill. As she headed out to the carriage house, reflex had her staring down to the
end of the driveway. She searched for someone she knew wouldn’t be there. It wasn’t just fiction that vampires had to stay
out of the sun. It was a cold hard fact. Yet it didn’t stop the sense that a well-known voice whispered her name on the wind.

“You couldn’t bring me coffee too?” Irma’s flat Midwestern twang assaulted her ears the moment she slid the large door open.
“You never think of others, do you?”

“Yeah, like you can actually drink it.” Jazz slid into the sports car and nestled the travel mug between her thighs. “You
try drinking coffee and it will only end up on the seat, which will royally piss me off.” The car started up with a muted
roar.

“Everything pisses you off lately,” Irma muttered. “Maybe you should have talked to Nicky. Maybe done even more than just
talked to him. He could have put you in a better mood.”

Jazz knew exactly how Nikolai would have put her in a good mood too. And it didn’t involve either talking or listening; just
a lack of clothing. Actually, a little rearrangement would work too. She ruthlessly ignored the heat skimming along her nerve
endings. How many times had she vowed no more where the sexy vampire was concerned? How many times had she sworn she would
have nothing to do with him again? More times than she could count on her fingers and toes many times over, yet, damn him,
he always managed to seduce her all over again. This time she was determined to avoid being pulled into his sphere. Of course,
every slipup in her past where he was concerned told her that was easier said than done.

Besides, didn’t she have enough problems in her life without once again adding a “he makes me crazy” vampire to the mix?

She wrinkled her nose at the sharp tang of cigarette smoke. “Get rid of that fucking cigarette, Irma! How many times do you
have to be told this car is a no smoking vehicle?”

“As if you haven’t conjured up some smoke of your own. I will have you know that Preacher Morris wouldn’t appreciate the language
you use in front of a lady,” Irma sniffed as her cigarette disappeared from view.

“Then Preacher Morris never knew the real you, did he?” Jazz pulled out onto the street without looking either way.

“You drive like a maniac,” the older woman muttered. “Am I allowed to know where we’re going today or do I have to guess?”

“Errands. It’s turning into a gorgeous day, so why not sit back, be quiet, and enjoy the ride.” Jazz sped up as they passed
the palm tree-lined road that led to the beach and the boardwalk. In the bright daylight, the tall Ferris wheel looked drab—almost
shabby—without its bright lights and tinny music adding to the mystique.

Tourist shops were likewise quieter with many of the store owners and employees standing outside to enjoy the last of the
morning calm. Jazz honked and waved to those she knew. With one hand on the wheel, she was able to sip her coffee to keep
her caffeine buzz intact. Irma’s obeying Jazz’s suggestion of silence lasted until Jazz made a quick stop at a local fast
food restaurant for a breakfast burrito.

“You should think of eating something healthier than that thing you’re eating. I cooked my Harold a hearty breakfast every
morning,” Irma said. “Three eggs over easy, bacon or sausage, country fried potatoes, and my buttermilk biscuits with preserves
I put up myself. He wouldn’t have dreamed of going to one of those places for a meal that doesn’t look fit for a dog.”

Not for the world would Jazz admit that her mouth was watering at the idea of a full country-style breakfast. For that alone
she was tempted to try, one more time, to charm Irma out of the car—as long as she could manage to get her into the kitchen.

“I’m amazed good ole Harold didn’t die of a heart attack from all the cholesterol he shoveled into his mouth every day. I
bet you fried everything in lard and real butter, too.” She finished the last of her breakfast burrito and daintily licked
her fingers clean.

“What I should have done after finding out he was doing the dirty deed with Lorraine Bigelow was put rat poison in his biscuits
instead of killing
myself
in his precious car.” Irma uttered an unladylike growl.

For a moment, brief as it was, Jazz thought of offering the woman a bit of comfort. Sure, Irma drove her crazy, but if she
hadn’t killed herself in Harold’s car and remained a curse inside the vehicle, Jazz wouldn’t have been the lucky recipient
of the T-Bird. Driving it fast was almost as good as great sex. Almost.

“Although, my doing that meant he didn’t want to drive that tart around in the car,” Irma finished with a self-satisfied smile.
“And even if you drive like a maniac, I have been able to see a lot of the country.”

So much for thinking the woman was mourning her old life. But she couldn’t miss that hint of sadness crossing Irma’s face.

“And now I suppose we’re going to see that ugly man who has all those nasty dwarves working for him,” Irma sniffed.

Jazz swallowed a sigh. The moment was gone.

Jazz drove past various auto body and repair shops in the commercial district until she reached one small business complex
and pulled into the driveway. A long low-lying building was tucked into the back with several garage doors pulled up and various
limousines and town cars being washed and detailed for the day’s work. The sign over the office declared it to be All Creatures
Limo Service. Jazz parked the T-Bird in one of several slots marked Visitor and climbed out.

“No honking the horn or flashing the lights because you get bored,” she warned Irma. “Dweezil’s threatened to blow up the
car if you throw a tantrum out here. He said you freak out the customers when you do that.”

“The man who looks like an olive claims
I
freak people out?” She gestured to a troll that exited the office. “Oh yes,
I’m
the odd one here.”

Jazz swallowed her laughter. The last thing she needed to do was encourage the irascible ghost.

“And why would I want to draw attention to myself? That hideous man would only send over those creatures to commit disgusting
acts on my body,” Irma sniffed, nodding her head toward the tiny men swarming over the cars being readied for the day’s work.
“Lord knows what perversions they would think of. At least if we have to come here at night I know that Nicky would come and
protect me.”

Jazz ignored the skittering sensation in her stomach at the name said out loud. “If they try anything I promise to protect
you as well as he would. Plus, vampires and dwarves don’t get along very well, so I don’t think Nikolai would care to come
by here.” She knew that to be fact, not rumor. “Maybe it’s my imagination, but I don’t think they want to deal with you any
more than you want to deal with them.” She watched the cleaning crew scurry around like busy three-foot-tall imps. Every once
in awhile, one of them would pause and stare at the T-Bird and then turn to a co-worker and say something, prompting more
stares. Jazz didn’t experience any warm and fuzzy feelings coming from any of them. She reached for her door. “Oh yeah, you’re
safe.”

Jazz winced when she walked into the office and was immediately assaulted by the pounding beat and explicit lyrics of Lucky
Cock’s
Linger Ficken’Good.

“Fates preserve me,” she muttered, wishing for a soundproof bubble. She was tempted to silence the stereo system, but Dweezil
in a snit at the loss of his precious music wasn’t a pleasant sight.

“Hi, Jazz!” said the Barbie doll come-to-life seated behind the counter. Shiny golden blonde hair was swept up into a slightly
messy ponytail that looked cute rather than unkempt. It made a perfect frame for the delicate heart shaped face and big Dresden
blue eyes. In keeping with the image was the baby pink tank top tucked neatly into a pair of immaculate white linen pants
that didn’t show one wrinkle. Gold stud earrings decorated the Barbie’s equally delicate, but faintly pointed, ears. If it
wasn’t for that barely-seen point on the tip of her ears and the shift of otherworldly colors in her blue eyes, Jazz would
have thought the young woman was pure human. Except what human would knowingly work here?