50 Ways to Hex Your Lover (24 page)

Irma watched her place quartz crystals under the car seats. The magick was strong enough that even Irma sensed it.

“Something’s wrong,” the ghost said as they drove to Dweezil’s. “You’ve never done this before.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Jazz quietly replied. “I know you’ve felt a little nervous lately, so the crystals will help you stay
calm. I’ll park you in the side garage at the car service. The crew doesn’t go in there and you’ll feel more comfortable.”

Irma hugged her handbag against her chest. “You’ll leave the lights on?”

“Yes.”

Jazz knew Irma was suspicious of her behavior, but she didn’t know what to say to her—that things could go so wrong she wasn’t
coming back? Jazz had already made arrangements for that contingency by leaving a letter behind for Krebs telling him where
the car would be if she didn’t return by morning and to contact Stasi and Blair. They would know what to do. Anything else,
she couldn’t think that far ahead.

Once in the garage, she took a small black bag out of the T-Bird’s trunk and flicked on the lights to illuminate the one-car
garage Dweezil usually used for parking his Jag.

“You’re going after that monster, aren’t you?” Irma’s words followed her. “And you don’t think you’re coming back. That’s
why you parked me in here. Before, you didn’t care what happened to me. And that’s why you put the crystals in the car.”

Jazz was tempted to ignore her words and keep on walking, but she found she couldn’t do it. She set the bag down by the door
and walked back to the car, resting her hands on the door.As she looked into Irma’s eyes, she knew there was one thing she
could do.

“I want you to remember that you have the strength to do what you want to do most,” she said. “What I see, you shall see.
What I feel, you will feel. You will be with me. Because I say so, damn it!”

The moment Irma’s form shimmered Jazz knew her spell had worked, especially when she felt another presence inside her mind.

I see myself!
Irma’s delighted laughter echoed inside Jazz’s head.
Does this mean others will see
and hear me?

“No, just me.” She tapped the metal with her fingertips. “All I ask is no screaming if things get rough. I can’t be distracted
or I’ll have to shut you off.”

I’ll be good. I promise.

Jazz quickly learned that Irma’s version of being good and her own version were two entirely different things. Irma chattered
about everything to do with the limousine.
Does it have to smell like
this?
to
Where are we going now?

“No talking or I shut down audio,” Jazz warned, pulling into the boardwalk parking lot where Nick stood by one of the buildings.
Like Jazz, he wore all black.

Is Nicky going with us?

“I mean it, Irma.”

I’ll be good.
Jazz felt the sensation of Irma zipping her lips shut. If only.

Jazz noticed the weariness in Nick’s shoulders, sorrow darkening his eyes. He knew as well as she did that they probably wouldn’t
find Flavius on the estate, that Flavius was in a place they couldn’t follow.

Nick walked over and climbed into the front seat. Before she could say a word, he grasped her by the back of the neck and
pulled her towards him, delivering a kiss that was rough with passion and the fear of never being able to touch her again.
She clutched his shoulders, needing the sense of touch, the taste, everything that branded Nick on her very soul.

Oh my!
She immediately shut Irma off. There were some things Jazz wasn’t willing to share.

“I am so scared,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Ssh, no talk of fear. Even if I am just as scared as you are,” he murmured, mapping her face with his lips. “But we will
succeed, Jazz.”

“How do you know that? If he’s grown too powerful we could be walking into a disaster.” She cupped his face with her hands,
stroking the hair-roughened skin. “Let’s just leave here, Nick. We could go to Europe. Go anywhere where he isn’t. Let the
damn Elders and the Protectorate take care of him.” She continued running her fingertips over his face, reading him the way
a blind woman would.

“Why should we do their dirty work for them? I can drive us to the airport and we could get on the next plane.” She choked
up, feeling the fear and pain building up inside her like a time bomb. “Scandinavia has long nights.”

Nick pulled in a deep breath, and rested his forehead against hers. He stroked her arms with his palms in a slow soothing
gesture.

“I know where your words are coming from,” he said softly. “And I know that you truly don’t mean it because the Jazz I know
doesn’t run from a fight. She wades in with fireballs flying,” he smiled at her soft laughter, “and curses raining on the
bad guys until they end up as wart-covered toads.”

“And then you make sure I am thrown in some disgusting jail cell and I hate you all over again,” she whispered, swallowing
the tears she knew she couldn’t shed in front of him. “It’s not right, Nick. Just two people can’t save the world.”

“They can if it’s us. We will do this, Griet of the Irish Sea,” he murmured against her skin. “We will accomplish what should
have been done seventy years ago. And then,” his mouth brushed against her ear, “then, we’ll head for the land of long nights,
find ourselves a cozy out-of-the-way inn and a very large bed. No fleas this time. I promise.” He returned to her face and
gave her a kiss that left her breathless before he released her and turned in the seat, securing the seatbelt across his chest
and lap.

Jazz sniffed softly. “Okay, but if you get killed I will find whatever shadowy realm you end up in and come in and drag you
out of there,” she muttered, switching on the engine. “No one’s going to kill you but me.”

Nick’s mouth curved in a smile. That was the Jazz he knew and loved. “Deal.”

Jazz mentally switched Irma back on.

What happened? Did you two have sex? No, you
couldn’t have. It hasn’t been long enough and I
don’t feel all that satisfied. What did you do? What
did he do?

“Irma.” There was no mistaking her warning.

Nick glanced at her.

“She’s coming along for the ride,” Jazz explained. “I just switched her back on.” She pulled out of the parking lot and headed
for her next stop. “If Tyge looks in the front seat, all he will see is a laptop computer. He won’t think anything about it
since he knows I watch DVDs or play computer games while waiting for him. But it’s best if you don’t speak. Any movement or
sound you make will break the illusion.” Her hands trembled on the steering wheel. She drew a deep breath to center herself.
She looked at the moonstone ring gleaming on her finger. For a brief moment, the stone glowed with a milky blue ethereal light
stronger than usual. The same light echoed in her moonstone pendant.

She suddenly felt stronger, more assured that whatever happened in the next few hours they would find a way to come out alive.

Seventeen

Forty minutes later, Jazz parked the limo in front of Tyge Foulshadow’s earthen dwelling. She waited with bated breath as
the creature left his home and made his way toward her. Luckily Tyge was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he said
few words to her as he climbed into the back of the limousine. In the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew she should have
been suspicious of his distracted behavior, but instead she was only grateful for his unusual lack of disgustingly salacious
byplay while her own thoughts were diverted elsewhere.

“You know where the estate is?” he asked her before she closed the door once he was settled on the seat amidst a cloud of
noxious dark-blue gas.

“Yes,” she replied.

That’s what you drive? Oh! He smells terrible!
How can you stand it?
Irma wailed in her head.

Jazz willed the ghost to be quiet and kept a faint smile pasted on her lips.

“Hand this to the gatekeeper. This will allow you to enter the grounds. He will not let you in without it.” He passed over
a card with his name written in fancy calligraphy on the heavy cream-colored vellum before settling back in the seat.

Jazz didn’t glance at the passenger seat as she took her place behind the wheel. She felt Nick’s comforting presence, and
for now, that was enough.

As she took the freeway heading for Hollywood and its hills, she noticed that silence reigned in the back of the limo. For
once Tyge didn’t play his favorite music or make use of his cell phone. As one who didn’t like seeing changes in behavior,
this was something she didn’t want to think about. Instead, she kept her focus on the freeway signs until she saw the off
ramp she needed.

She later guided the vehicle up the winding, unlit road that she knew dead-ended at their destination. She looked up ahead
and saw lights blazing from a three-story house that seemed to rule the hills themselves. Her stomach twisted so tightly she
only needed some salt to turn it into a pretzel.

Is that where he lives?
She heard Irma whisper.
It
looks like something out of one of his horror movies.

“Home of the devil,” Jazz murmured to herself, stopping at the iron gates decorated with a large bat on each gate. She was
positive the tall bald-headed man who approached her could easily bench press the limousine and not even break a sweat. “Master
Tyge Foulshadow,” she stated, handing him the card.

Instead of reading the card, he ran his fingers over the lettering and then stepped back. It wasn’t until then that Jazz realized
the man was blind and mute. He returned to his post and a moment later, the gates slowly swung outward.

“Here we go,” she whispered, rolling through.

The moment the vehicle passed the gates, Jazz felt as if a hand squeezed the air out of her lungs. Instead of the usual white
twinkle lights blanketing the shrubs lining the drive to give the grounds a fairytale appearance, tiny red lights gave it
the ominous appearance she knew the host was looking for. She had a good idea the majority of his guests enjoyed the Goth
ambiance. She studied the grounds, seeing them crowded with vampires and other creatures dressed in couture wear strolling
around, unaware that something else flitted in and out around them. It was the latter that shook her to her toes. It was easy
to see that the guests had no idea there were shadowy wraiths moving among them. Some of the wraiths looked resigned to their
eternal fate, others held expressions of frustration as they followed the guests and tried to communicate with those who hadn’t
crossed into that shadowy realm. Their arms were outstretched in entreaty; mouths open, speaking words that obviously no one
heard. It was heartbreaking to watch.

What are those?

“This is not good,” Jazz whispered, automatically following the line of cars and limousines as each stopped in front of the
mansion and released its passengers. She felt Nick’s curiosity, but she couldn’t acknowledge him in any way just yet.

She wasn’t surprised to see that the Gothic styled mansion hadn’t changed over the years, only looking even more forbidding
with elaborate gargoyles guarding the huge wooden double doors. While gargoyles were known to protect the inhabitants from
evil, she knew these were meant to keep all forms of good out and evil in.

“I’ll return for you at two a.m.,” she told Tyge as he slid out of the back seat. So she lied since she didn’t intend to leave
the grounds. She preferred he think she wasn’t there in case all hell broke loose.

He smiled. If what his facial muscles did had anything to do with a smile. “Drivers are to remain on the grounds until the
party is over, lovely Jazz. Perhaps you would rather wait inside the house than stay out here in the cold air. I am sure the
host would not mind. We could have a glass of wine together.”

“No thanks. I have enough here with me to keep me occupied.” For a moment, she was startled to sense an unwanted intrusion
inside her head. She instantly switched off Irma and did her best to repel the mental interloper. When Tyge slid backwards
she knew she was successful. Her fingers itched to pull up a fireball. “Do not ever do that again.” For one brief moment she
was sorely tempted to slay him now and take the consequences later.

The slit doubling as Tyge’s mouth curved downward in appropriate apology. Not that she believed him.

“I deeply apologize, my beauty.” He inclined his head. He turned away and moved toward the stairs leading to the front door.

Jazz wasted no time getting back inside the limo and driving slowly to the rear of the mansion. It took all of her concentration
to remain on the driveway and not turn around and haul ass out of there.

Nick coughed. “I don’t know how you can stand driving that creature. Long dead animals don’t smell as bad as he does.”

“He is about as bad as you can get, but Dweezil likes the gold bars he pays his bill with,” she said, as she stared at the
shadows on the grounds.

What are those shadows I see out there?
Irma asked.

“So you see them too?” she asked.

“See what?” Nick asked. “What in Hades are you talking about?”

“This is so wrong.” She moved away from the other cars, parking at the furthest end. She shut off the engine and stared through
the windshield.

Nick looked from right to left in an effort to see what Jazz did. “What do you see out there?”

Jazz stared at the dimly-lit walkway that led down to the swimming pool she knew resembled a Roman bath complete with erotic
statuary that many deemed pornographic. It had even been rumored that some of them somehow survived the destruction of Pompeii
and centuries later ended up here. Clive had hosted many an orgy by the pool. She had considered herself lucky to have only
heard about them and not actually been there. Of course, if she had, perhaps she wouldn’t have become one of his victims later
on because she sure wouldn’t have come back. But what captured her gaze now were the shadowy forms that moved among the living
and non-breathing without any notice, ignored by all.

“Shades,” she whispered. “Lots of shades.” She stared at three that crossed in front of the limo. One paused and looked into
the vehicle. She almost cried at the look of despair on the indistinct face that looked milky-white in the darkness. “This
isn’t my gift, but …” she closed her eyes, centered herself and allowed herself to roam free. She ignored the partylike emotions
that suffused the majority of the participants and focused on the others.
Sorrow. Fear.
Anger. Feelings of abandonment.
She opened her eyes. “They’re all his victims. Whatever he did to them wouldn’t allow them to have the peace to cross over.”
She blindly reached over and gripped Nick’s hand. “They may as well be held prisoner here, because there’s no way for them
to leave. They’re literally trapped on the grounds.”

Empathy wasn’t one of Jazz’s gifts, but after all the pain and anguish she felt from the shades it was even easier to feel
the waves of fury roll off Nick. He sat perfectly still, his features looking as if they’d been etched in stone.

“Then the only way they will be free to move on is for him to die.” He released her hand and climbed out of the limo. “Let’s
do this.”

Jazz got out and walked around the hood until she stood in front of Nick. His anger had him shaking from head to foot. When
he looked down into her face, she saw the fires of hell blazing in his eyes, a fury she’d never seen before and never wanted
directed at herself. Nikolai the Destroyer stood in front of her.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. “What they see is not what we be. What they hear will be unclear. Our truth will be
a lie. Last until we say to them good-bye.” Her eyes glittered bright green in the darkness. “Because I say so, damn it!”

A chilly wind blew around them, twisting around them in a cloud of darkness. When it drifted away, Jazz looked at Nick, now
blond with an obvious spray tan highlighting finely honed features; a movie star handsome man in a well-tailored tuxedo with
a black silk shirt and tie while she now had golden-brown hair flowing in spiral waves down to her waist and wore a black-sequined
strapless gown sporting a slit up to there. Her black high-heeled slides were nothing more than two narrow straps accenting
scarlet tipped toes. Even her eyes had changed to a deep navy-blue color with a circle of red in the iris. Both of them had
the appearance of extremely wealthy vampires whose focus was entirely self-involved.

She looked down at her breasts that had also increased two sizes. “The girls never looked better. But don’t get any ideas.”
She grinned at Nick revealing a hint of fang. Even with her new disguise she looked like the Jazz he knew and loved. “Lock
and load, Fang Boy.”

“Fang boy? You better check out a mirror, sweetheart, because you now have a set of your own,” he pointed out.

She tentatively ran her tongue across her top teeth and winced. “I don’t know how you can put up with these things.” She slipped
her arm through his, conjured up two glasses of champagne and handed him one. “Shall we mingle, Rodrigo?” she purred with
a toss of her head.

“Rodrigo?” He sipped the champagne. “Fine, Adelina.”

But even crossing the grounds to the mansion proved to be difficult for Jazz as they passed the many shades all garbed in
pale gray robes, some a darker shade of gray than others. And some so pale they resembled nothing more than a wisp of smoke.
Jazz guessed the lighter ones were shades that had been there for far more years than the others. She saw the grounds crowded
with faint vampire shadows and lost count of how many there were. The sight made her heartsick.

“You see us, don’t you?” One shadowy feminine form asked. Her face was a pale blur in the darkness. Jazz doubted her face
would be any clearer under bright light. She had been there too long. She wondered what would happen to the shade when she
became so pale no one would be able to sense her. “I know you do. Please, tell me you see us. You are a witch, yes?”

What is she? Is she like me even if I don’t wear
something like that?
Irma whispered inside Jazz’s head.
I guess I should be grateful Harold chose that
ugly dress or I could have been stuck in a robe like
that for eternity.

“Yes, I am. Please understand it would be dangerous for me to acknowledge you,” Jazz said softly, keeping her gaze on the
brightly lit house before them, acting as if a shadowy form wasn’t walking with them. “We are here to help you if you can
help us when the time comes. Do you know how many bodyguards he keeps inside?”

The shadowy form stayed with them, the woman telling her what she knew of the house when she was last inside, which she said
was 1930.

“He placed wards around the house so we are unable to enter,” she said, before they reached the French doors opening into
a ballroom. “There is an underground dungeon where he plays with his victims. We hear them screaming for help, but we cannot
go there. Please, be careful. He is a very evil man.”

‘Yes, I know,” Jazz said grimly while keeping a vacuous smile on her lips.

She violently pushed down the multitude of dragons inhabiting her stomach as she and Nick stepped through the doors.

“We can do this,” Nick whispered, sensing her unease. He moved closer. “Keep on smiling. We’re being watched.”

She obliged, looking like the sexy vampire she wasn’t and acting as if she didn’t have a care in the world other than having
a good time that night. She scanned the room, easily picking out the staff from the guests. She noticed all the female servers
wore pale-red silk gowns that bared one breast; a collar encircled each neck but did nothing to hide the bite marks that marred
their necks and shoulders and, for all she knew, elsewhere. It was as if the revealing gowns were meant to display that the
women were available for a quick snack. The male members of the staff were equally young, good-looking and wore only tight
leather pants meant to augment their own charms. She was positive the smiles on their lips were more drug-enhanced than genuine.
Once she saw the glassy eyes of more than one server, she knew she was right. The only way they were kept there was under
the power of drugs and, she was certain, powerful magick.

She looked around and was relieved to find nothing familiar about the room. One of her biggest fears in returning here was
that by stepping into the past all her nightmares would return. Instead, the furniture was more modern, even more lavish than
back in 1932. Film stars back then lived excessive lives and Clive Reeves had gone beyond many with his wild lifestyle. He
continued that more than seventy years later. Even so, memories were more powerful than the reality before her. It was too
easy for her memory to overlay the room with the Roman-style couches and low tables that had dominated the rooms back then.
Writhing figures sought a fulfillment that would be fleeting at best and only leave them empty and dissatisfied. The hunger
would never end. Another room was candlelit, only one couch in there, a waterfall spilling down one wall, pornographic artwork
adorning the other three. The presence of incense was so powerful it was a narcotic to the senses. Her screams were so loud,
so strong, her throat burned, yet no one heard her. Or if they did, they ignored her. She swallowed the nausea that crawled
up her throat.