50 Ways to Hex Your Lover (18 page)

Instead of shelves holding the contents, the stone walls revealed carved-out sections that reminded her of the catacombs in
Paris, but instead of human bones, carefully stacked books, parchments, and scrolls were arranged according to size in the
hollows. She feared the faint tendrils of smoke drifting up from some of the books had nothing to do with the chance of fire
and more to do with the contents of the books themselves. She hoped she wouldn’t need to look through any of them.

She stopped at a tall barrel standing by the portal and pulled out a pair of protective gloves that glimmered with a layer
of defensive magick. She knew many forms of baneful, or dark, magick could be absorbed through the skin, and she wasn’t taking
any chances of being infected. She didn’t want to discover what The Librarian’s methods of decontamination would be.

Jazz hadn’t been in the room long before she felt the same overpowering emotions she had experienced when Reeves magickally
violated Irma and the car. That identical suffocating sensation seemed to ooze its way over her skin like thick oil. She ignored
the feeling as she moved through the seemingly endless room pausing here and there to study titles written or stamped on ancient
leather tomes and skimmed scrolls that automatically translated themselves from their original languages to give her a hint
of their contents.

“There is no way I’m going to be able to find what I need in an hour,” she muttered, experiencing frustration before she’d
barely begun her quest. “Even spending a year in here wouldn’t be long enough.” She spun in a tight circle, allowing her senses
to roam freely. She knew it was risky because even the air reeked of something so dark and forbidding that she knew she had
to be careful not to get sucked into whatever ruled the room and its contents. So much power hovered here that it would be
easy to allow it to overtake her. But she felt she had no choice if she was to discover what she needed. “I ask for assistance.
I ask that my questions be answered. Show me what can touch the nonliving without fear of reprisal. Show me what one might
use to bring the non-living into the light of day without loss of existence,” she asked out loud. Then she waited, hoping
the answer was there. “I’ll even take a hint,” she said with a bit of desperation. “A direction to take! A map would be nice!”

A tiny pinpoint of light appeared in the distance. She took it as the first clue that her question had been answered.

The light didn’t brighten the closer she got to it, but remained a soft steady glow that beckoned to her. She found nothing
comforting about the light that hovered over a stone table. The very old stone table set against a wall with inscriptions
in an ancient language engraved along the edge wasn’t very reassuring either. A large brown-edged parchment sat atop its rough
surface and she had a sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that the red ink forming the archaic words and symbols on
the parchment wasn’t fashioned from a form of colored water. Even with the protective gloves covering her hands it took all
of her courage to reach out to the parchment.

“Please let this be really old animal skin or some sort of handmade paper,” she murmured, gingerly touching the edges.

The papyrus felt like a living thing under her fingertips. Even through the gloves she felt sullied by the feel, as the letters
moved with her touch. Now she truly understood why The Librarian limited her time here. She was convinced if she spent even
one minute longer than her allotted hour, she would run screaming from the room. She was almost ready to do that now. Jazz
was not known as a coward. But she did have a strong sense of self-preservation. This place dictated she keep that sense as
powerful as possible.

“He who feeds on the life force of those who walk in the shadows shall take their strength for his own by taking what keeps
them alive,” she read out loud. “He who steals the life force of shadow walkers shall require more sustenance as moons pass
by. He will rule those he has conquered until the night a shadow sends him to the land of eternal oblivion.” She stepped back,
resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her skirt. She hoped the icky residue she imagined coated her gloves wouldn’t find
a way to leave with her.

As she stared down at the letters and symbols on the aged parchment, they took on a life of their own, creating pictures that
were repellent, that portrayed creatures and things of a darker nature. Even worse, it felt as if what she saw tried to burrow
its way inside her head. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if the scream came from her mind or her lips.

An ear-splitting screech abruptly pulled her back to the present. The sound appeared to come from far away and sounded anxious.
She started to take a cleansing breath to center herself when the tainted air reminded her it wasn’t a good place for deep
breathing exercises.

“I haven’t found enough,” she called out, even though she was more than ready to leave the dark place that enfolded her like
a noxious cloak. Judging by the squeaks that increased in volume, Felix wasn’t about to argue with her. The picture of the
sand running out in the hourglass appeared in her mind. “I told him an hour wasn’t enough time!” She was positive if she could
further explore the parchment she could find what she needed. And it wasn’t as if she was going to sneak it out of there.
Knowing The Librarian, there were safeguards everywhere to ensure that didn’t happen, plus she couldn’t imagine taking anything
from this room. But she still felt she needed more time, but she felt so repelled by what she’d seen and found so far, she
equally knew she needed to escape this place before it consumed her.

Just before the bat’s screeches grew shrill enough to cause her ears to bleed, Jazz felt a shifting in the room as the stone
floor abruptly rolled under her feet. The parchment in front of her unexpectedly rolled up and flew back to the crypt it had
come from. At the same time, the air grew so close she found it difficult to breathe.

As if that wasn’t enough to scare her, she looked toward the portal and saw the cobweb begin to lower slowly to the ground.
She just knew if she didn’t get to the opening in time she would be trapped here forever. Definitely not a good option for
a witch who liked wide-open spaces that offered lots of light and no nasty magick.

“Okay, I get the point! Time’s up. Time to leave before I become a permanent addition to the collection.” She quickly made
her way back to the descending cobweb and barely made her way outside before the web dropped fully to the ground. The spider
in the top corner scuttled to the other side and hung there, munching on its latest victim.

It took Jazz a moment to realize that the floor no longer buckled under her feet and the air was now scented with pleasant
smelling herbs instead of the reek of sulfur. She took several deep breaths, banishing the nasty smell from her olfactory
memory.

She swatted at Felix as he swooped close to her head, almost tangling his claws in her hair. “You touch the hair and I’m feeding
you to my slippers,” she snarled, picking up the pace. Now that she was away from the room that held so much darkness she
was more than ready to get out of there.

She considered it a shame that leaving the building meant she would have to pass by The Librarian, with a long “e.” She even
went so far as to look for any exit doors on her way back, but no such luck.

As she headed for the main door, she slowed down near a section separated into reading rooms. A group of ten young girls wearing
pale blue robes sat in a half circle around an older woman reading a Greek legend to them.

Memories of afternoons spent in The Library hearing old tales had been something she’d stored away for some time. For many
years when she was young and afraid she would never be allowed to return, it was easier to forget the pleasant times spent
at the Academy. She had wondered how she would survive. But today, seeing the young girls so like her classmates of old brought
the memories back and she smiled at the recollections. She thought of the closeness they all had shared back then, that they
still shared seven hundred years later.

“Your time is up, young witch,” The Librarian’s reedy voice echoed in the chamber just as she crossed the threshold to the
reception area.

He sat on his stool, the faint sounds of his plumed pen scratching across the surface the only sound that broke the silence
in the high-ceilinged room. As she entered the area, the last grain of sand left the top globe of the hourglass and drifted
downward. As the last grain topped the bottom pile, the hourglass winked out of sight.

“Did you discover what you wished to find among the crypts of dark magick?” he asked, without looking up from his task.

“All I unearthed were more questions,” she sighed. She didn’t mention the word pictures that frankly freaked her out. She
was convinced that talking about them would only make them real. As it was, she would have enough nightmares from what she
saw to last her years.

He barely glanced at her. “You might wish to discard the protective gloves. They are not allowed to leave The Library.”

Jazz wrinkled her nose. The last thing she wanted to do was touch them.

The Librarian sighed. “Off,” he instructed.

Just like that, the gloves disappeared from her hands.

“Thank you.” Jazz headed for the vestibule and the large double doors that would allow her to escape.

“You must remember something, young witch.” The Librarian’s words followed her. “Each question has an answer, but you may
not be the one who is meant to provide that answer.”

She spun around. “I don’t need riddles. I need solutions. I want to know how to make sure no more innocent vampires disappear.”

“Vampires are not innocent,” he sniffed with the arrogant disdain only a civil servant wizard could portray. “They are vile
creatures that prey on the weak.”

“And someone who targets vampires can easily target witches and wizards next,” she deliberately talked over him even if it
was the highest form of disrespect. Judging by the way his face tightened, the barb hit home, which had her wishing she could
click her heels and wish herself home … right now.

“Then perhaps the answer you require is not found here.”

“From the time I entered the Witches’ Academy I was told any magickal answer I required would be found here,” she argued,
losing her sense … once again. “You, of all people, know I can’t go anywhere else.”

His mouth stretched in his version of a cold smile. “Then perhaps what you need is not here.”

Jazz silently counted to ten, and then counted to ten in Gaelic and again in Italian, French, and Russian. It helped.

“Then where am I to go? Tell me that,” she demanded, even as the gargoyle in her mind yelled
never good to piss off The Librarian!

“Consider yourself lucky, young witch, that you are still allowed to come here. The Library is for those who follow our tenets.
It is only due to the compassion of others that you who were banished are still permitted to use the facilities.” He waved
his plumed pen like a royal scepter.

Jazz knew the smarmy despot spoke the truth, but if he chose to bar her and her witch sisters entrance, she also knew he had
the power to do so. A wizard working in civil service was about as power hungry as you could get.

All she could do was take what she read and saw and hope it would be enough.

“Thank you for your time, The Librarian,” she said, not caring if she mocked him. She’d spent the last hour in a dank-smelling
chamber where Tyge Foulshadow would have felt right at home. Now all she wanted to do was go home and take a long hot shower
with lots of soap and a plethora of cleansing spells.

The door opened with creaks and groans and Jazz exited as quickly as she could.

“Goodbye,” the griffin doorknocker called after her. “Come again.”

The door winked out of sight and she was left alone in the dark filthy alley that resembled a tunnel out of her nightmares.

“I can’t believe you left me here all day!” Irma groused the moment Jazz exited the alley and crossed the sidewalk. “You would
not believe the things I’ve seen. And here I thought those little men at the car service were perverts. Someone actually urinated
against one of the tires! Although I’m sure I wouldn’t want to use a restroom in either of these establishments. Lord knows
if they’ve ever been properly cleaned. I believed in keeping a bathroom fresh and clean at all times. Harold complained using
that much pine air freshener was too much, but I wanted anyone who entered my bathroom to know it had been properly cleaned.”
Jazz wrinkled her nose against the pungent aroma coming off the front tire. “If you had a dog like you’ve been bugging me
for,
all
my tires would have been marked. “ She made a mental note to stop at the car wash on the way home. Then she planned on a shower
and change of clothes before she headed to the boardwalk…and Nick. She really hated puzzles and hoped he was better at solving
the riddles she’d found than she was.

Thirteen

Once home, Jazz was relieved to find she had the house to herself. She was still feeling pretty freaked about her time spent
in The Library’s Baneful Magick section and the last thing she wanted was to have Krebs ask her questions about where she’d
been. It wouldn’t have been difficult for him to sense her unease and immediately demand an explanation. It wasn’t something
she could easily explain to him anyway. At least with Nick she could say as little as possible and he’d understand, while
she’d have to drag out flash cards and alphabet blocks for Krebs. It seemed her roomie was being drawn into her life more
and more whether she thought it was a good idea or not.

She undressed and took the time to center herself with meditation. She needed to rid herself of the sense of wrong she’d felt
inside the room that had been infected with so much darkness.

After she felt more like herself she settled in for a relaxing bath, choosing a body wash that left the bathroom, and her,
smelling like lemon, following it with body cream in the same fragrance topped with matching cologne.

“Lemon-fresh witch,” she proclaimed, keeping with her theme by pulling on a creamy yellow cotton long sleeved hoodie, a pair
of faded jeans that clung lovingly to her long legs and yellow flip-flops with a whimsical daisy pattern across the leather
bands. To add to the illusion of a girl out to enjoy an evening on her own, she brushed her hair back and up in a perky ponytail
decorated with a yellow scrunchie. She studied her reflection in the mirror as she applied coral lip-gloss. “I am so damn
cute, it’s downright scary.”

This time, she left the car, and Irma, home while she walked the few blocks to the boardwalk. So far, she’d managed to avoid
coming to Nick’s office by using every excuse known to witch. But her excuses were long gone, plus she had promised to come
to his office after she left The Library. She still wasn’t looking forward to talking about her time spent at The Library,
but she didn’t want to put it off either. Even now, when she needed to see him and discuss her findings, she still took her
time by stopping for a large Diet Coke and a powdered sugar-dusted funnel cake that called out to her. She even considered
picking up some cotton candy, except she couldn’t figure out how to carry that too. At times like this she wished for Dweezil’s
third hand.

She hadn’t been inside the building housing Nick’s office before, but once inside the 1920s style building with its ornate
cage-style elevator at one end of the narrow hallway and the shiny black wrought iron railing decorating the stairs at the
other end, she knew it suited his love of history.

She checked the directory on the wall near the main door and headed for the nearby elevator.

She was now in his territory.

Unlike the other time, Nick sensed Jazz’s presence the moment she stepped onto the boardwalk. He leaned back in his battered
leather chair, legs stretched out on top of his desk, ankles crossed. And waited.

He smiled when a slender shadow appeared on the other side of the frosted glass.

“Damn it, Nick! Open the door!”

He resisted the urge to use his mind to open the door and chose the conventional way. He uncoiled his length from the chair
and moved toward the door.

“I live to serve, milady.” He pulled open the door and stepped back.

Jazz walked in looking like the sunshine he had only seen on television, her hands filled with food and drink. The ends of
her hair were still damp as if she’d just showered.

She turned in a tight circle, probably mapping every inch of the office.

“And here I thought the Protectorate paid their people well. What? No 401k or IRA to help set you up something more elaborate?”
She set her drink and a plate holding a half-eaten funnel cake on his desk. “No offense, but this place is sort of a dump,
in a 1940s gumshoe movie sort of way.”

“None taken. I do well enough. I bought the building for the good-sized Civil Defense Shelter under the building that makes
for a comfortable apartment.” He gestured toward the guest chair. “How was your time spent at The Library?”

“
Augh!
” She flopped in the chair. “The Librarian hasn’t changed in the last eighty years. He is still a pompous ass.” She took a
swig from her Diet Coke and pinched off a piece of her funnel cake scattering powdered sugar everywhere. She delicately licked
the powdered sugar from each finger.

He returned to his chair. The lemon scent of her skin tempted him to find out if she tasted as tart as she smelled. He sensed
now was not the time to find out.

“So were you able to learn anything in that all-hallowed witches’ fount of information?” He regretted his sarcasm when he
saw the change in her expression. If his heart still pumped blood he would have said it ran cold. What in Hades’ name happened
in that place?

Jazz’s easy-going smile dimmed. “Just be glad you’ve never gone to The Library. Dealing with The Librarian is bad enough.
But the section holding the dark magick material is, well,” she took a deep breath, “dark is an understatement. And it’s smothering
even though the portal seems to go on forever with no end in sight. What I found in there were books, scrolls, and parchments
with contents I don’t even want to think about. And objects I am sure would give pretty much anyone nightmares. These past
centuries have shown me forms of evil that tears at the soul, but what’s housed in that room goes far beyond anything we could
imagine. The portal to the room is protected by a big bad spider that would probably consider a dragon nothing more than a
light mid-morning snack.”

He noticed she did not pull away when he walked over and wrapped his arms around her. The chill in her skin didn’t come from
the air around them. He lamented he had no body heat to share with her. No way to warm her. All he could do was offer her
what little comfort his nearness would afford her.

“Legend has it that deep within the mountains of Carpathia is an endless cave that holds all the true secrets of vampires,”
he murmured. “There you can find stories of the first vampire and how he came to be, how he came to find out what sustained
his life and what could endanger him. Part of the legend is that inside the cave is a vial holding that which can give a vampire
a true immortal existence, where the sun would not turn him to flame nor would a stake to the heart end his life. Those are
only a very few of the secrets housed there that are known to no one but the Protectorate.”

“Oh sure, they would like to claim the first vampire was a man,” she mumbled against his shirtfront. “Easy to do when there’s
probably no one around from that long ago who would tell them that there was a good chance a woman was the first bloodsucker.”

Nick smiled. His Jazz was back.

“Come.” He stepped back and took her hand, pulling her toward the window.

“You do realize you have a perfectly good door, don’t you?” She hung back.

“Yes, but it’s faster this way.” He opened the window and climbed out onto the iron fire escape and reached up to pull down
the ladder that led to the roof. While he could easily scale the side of the building, he knew Jazz would require a more conventional
method.

Seeing his intent, she looked over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers at her Diet Coke and funnel cake. The two disappeared
from their spot on the desk.

When she was heading to a rooftop, Jazz usually didn’t like climbing eighty-year-old ladders that looked as if they’d disintegrate
at the slightest touch. Except she didn’t need to worry about looking down when she could look up to the spectacular view
of Nick’s tight butt as he climbed ahead of her. Jeans were clearly designed with him in mind.

The roof had been converted to a patio with two chairs and a small table, now holding her Diet Coke and funnel cake. In one
corner, a garden lent a patchwork floral effect and another corner was covered with a large rubber mat where she imagined
a stripped-to-the waist Nick practiced his martial arts in the evening.

Nick’s refuge.

She walked over to the edge of the roof and looked out over the boardwalk. The tinny sounds of the carousel’s calliope mixed
with the voices of teenagers waiting in line at the Ferris wheel and the rollercoaster. Carnies along the Midway invited visitors
to try their luck and she could see the snack booths doing a brisk business. Further out, a few fishermen lined up along the
pier casting out their lines in hopes of catching more than a shoe. The chilly sea air rushed through her, lifting her hair
up, giving the still-damp strands a life of their own, and adding color to her cheeks.

“So much life out there,” she murmured. “An innocence that has no idea what really goes on in a part of the world they don’t
know exists. I hope they never find out.”

Nick stood just behind her. “Some will remain oblivious, others will discover the truth. The same way it’s been going on for
centuries.”

She turned around.

He brushed his thumb across the curve of her cheek. “Amazing. What in Fate’s name did you find at The Library that left you
this philosophical?”

She pulled in a deep breath. “Riddles.”

“Riddles are not answers. Only more questions.” Jazz nodded. “People think practicing the Dark Arts is easy, but it requires
a lot of work, a lot of cunning, and the knowledge their lives will never be the same again. The rewards are short-lived since
the price is too high for many, but of course, they don’t know that until it’s too late. What I found said ‘
He who feeds on the life force of those who walk the
shadows will gain their strength. He who takes the
life force of shadow walkers and keeps it as his own
will require more food as moons pass by. He will
rule those he has conquered until the night one of
the shadows sends him to the land of eternal void.
’ Then my sixty minutes was up, the parchment shot itself back to its crypt and I made sure I got out of there before I was
trapped with a very large man-eating, well, I don’t know the man-eating part for a fact, but it was big enough to be one,
spider.”

“Takes the life force,” Nick murmured to himself. “Blood. He is taking our blood.” His eyes briefly glowed red. “That can
only mean he’s taking our blood to sustain his own life.”

“Then why does it state it will take a shadow to kill him? Don’t you all go poof when you lose all your blood like you do
if someone stakes you in the heart or cuts off your head?”

“Something I really don’t like to think about since none of those options appeal to me,” he said dryly. “Many think that taking
a vampire’s blood is a cure for disease and even more think it can extend their lives. That appears to be happening here.”

“It does if the vampire bites the human first, almost drains them dry then urges the victim to drink from them.” Jazz wrinkled
her nose. “They wake up as night people on an eternal liquid diet. Personally, the idea of giving up chocolate and coffee
for life is enough to keep me out of that non-lifestyle.”

Nick shook his head as he searched his memory for whispers of stories told long ago, tales he would not have thought of until
now. He would have to contact Flavius. As an Elder in the Protectorate he would know all the legends, fact and fiction. The
Elders enjoyed stirring up old tales every decade or so because it kept the mortals from truly knowing what walked their streets
after dark.

“We need to speak to Flavius.” He felt her withdrawal the moment the words left his lips. “Don’t give me that look. He might
be able to make sense of the riddle where we can’t. He’s existed longer than both of us together.”

“Really? Then I’m surprised they asked for my help,” she said with a touch of snark.

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“He’s an Elder, Nick. He’ll only take what I learned and pass it on to the Protectorate. He won’t tell us a thing.”

“And why shouldn’t he do what is right? It’s my kind in peril, not yours!” he shouted. “My kind who have vanished while yours
have no fear of being hunted like animals and, for all we know, treated like nothing more than a food source.”

Okay, now she was mad. “No
fear
of being hunted? What do you call the bloody Inquisition in 1233? How about Salem in 1692? While
your kind
hid in the shadows,
mine
were dragged out into the light, burned at the stake, pressed to death, stoned, tied to horses, and torn apart like a piece
of meat!” She advanced on him, her fury a living thing. Thunder echoed overhead. “And along with my sisters were innocents
unjustly accused just because they happened to be different. Is that a wart on your nose?
You must be a witch!
” She planted her palms against his chest and shoved. He fell back a step. “You take walks in the moonlight?
You
must be a witch!
You have red hair.
You must be a
witch!
” She started to push him again, but this time he grabbed her wrists and held them tightly. She struggled but was no match
for his superior strength. “While vampires creep along the shadows, preying on whomever they wish, sometimes erasing their
victims’ memories of the encounters. While vampires treat many innocents like a damn
food source.
” Her words tasted bitter on the tongue.

“I have not crept in the shadows for over nine hundred years,” he said tightly. “You want to compare horror stories? I can
do that, too. So let’s just agree that both of our kind have had it rough.” He tightened his hold on her wrists. “We have
survived, Jazz. That is what counts. We have made our way in the world as best we could.”

She tipped her head back, inhaling the earthy scent she always associated with him. She looked up into his face that showed
arrogance with a rare vulnerability peeking out.

“Why couldn’t you stay out of my life?” Her cry carried centuries of memories, centuries of lovemaking, and centuries of pain.
“I’ve made a good life here. I have everything I need.” She did not move away as he once again wrapped his arms around her
and his hand crept up to curve around the back of her neck, gently rubbing the exposed skin.