Hotel Hex (6 page)

“Yeah yeah yeah, get in line.” Except Jazz wasn’t too happy about it either since her spells never failed. Well, almost never.

Sylvie batted away Nick’s helping hands. “Get out of this room. Just
get out
!” Her screech could shatter glass.

The parlor door slammed so hard Jazz was amazed the heavy wood didn’t splinter.

“Ms. Tremaine.” Mrs. Babbington touched Jazz’s arm as they grouped in the hallway. “I realize Ms. Vandemeer is a bit high strung, but well,” she paused. “You just can’t do such things to our guests. It isn’t right.” Her lips were pursed in a frown as she stared at the closed door. “Although she should realize this isn’t her dwelling,” she muttered.

“You wanted a supernatural weekend, you got one.” Jazz was still ticked off her reversal spell hadn’t completely worked.

“She’s so angry I thought she’d have a stroke.” Derwood’s face was flushed an unhealthy red. “If you all don’t mind I think I’ll go to my room and have a spot of brandy.” He hastily departed.

“I need some fresh air,” Jazz muttered, heading for the reception area and the front door.

“You need to figure out what went wrong.” Nick stuck by her side.

“How am I going to do that when I don’t know what went wrong.” She reached the door and pulled it open only to be blasted with arctic wind and icy rain. Her struggles to close it didn’t work, but Nick easily secured the door.

“Not a good day to be outside,” Zorak said from his spot near the front desk as he pushed an old-fashioned carpet sweeper back and forth.

“This is one witch who doesn’t melt when water falls on her,” Jazz said, looking through the etched glass at the storm raging outside. “But it does look nasty out there.”

Nick bent his head. “Then why don’t we take another look at Beatrice’s room?”

“Good idea.”

When Jazz turned around, she looked at the bellman. His bones clicked and clacked as he rolled the carpet sweeper across the carpet.

              “What, no fancy vacuum?” she teased, hugging herself as the cold air seeped under the double doors.

              “They like to keep the hotel as historically accurate as possible in little ways,” he replied. “Besides, I like doing this.” He carefully swept over the area where his skin flakes had landed.

              “Zorak, how long have you worked here?” Nick asked.

He shrugged. “It seems like forever. I really don’t know. I’ve been here a long time. Don’t really know how I ended up here. I guess Mr. Perry hired me.”

“Which Mr. Perry would that be, Zorak?” Nick asked, even as his expression indicated he already knew the answer.

The zombie bellman smiled, ignoring the gray flecks of skin drifting to the floor. His leathery face stretched in a grimace that masqueraded as a grin. “Why, Mr. Randolph Perry, sir. He was the one who brought me into the household.”

Chapter 6

“Nothing makes sense,” Jazz told Nick as they returned upstairs. “Which means Mrs. Babbington is lying to us.”

“And that she might not be what she appears to be,” he replied, as he opened the suite door and waited as she entered first.

“Then she has to be magick.” She collapsed on the sofa. “But I don’t sense her having any power.”

Nick pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and studied the small screen. “No service.”

“At least we have wall mail.” She pushed herself off the sofa and moved toward a wall, sliding the pictures off and setting them to one side. She waved her hand over the surface then frowned. “It’s not working. This surface doesn’t have the same feeling I got from the ceiling in the bedroom and in Beatrice’s room.” She cautiously placed her hand an inch from the wall then touched the wallpaper. She flinched at the contact. “
Ow
!” Examination revealed bloody pinpricks on her fingertips.

Nick growled under his breath as he handed her a handkerchief. “When did the wallpaper change to roses?”

“With realistic thorns.” She blotted her tiny wounds.

Nick leaned in closer. “Interesting.”

“What?”

He gestured toward the wall displaying trailing roses. “There’s no sign of your blood.”

“Where have you been?” Fluff and Puff raced out of the bedroom.

“Do you know what they fed us?” Puff shouted. “
Carrots
!
Blech
!”

“And celery,” Fluff chimed in.

“You’d think they were given poison,” Jazz commented.

“In their minds it was.”

“There’s licorice root in my tote bag,” she told them. “Don’t eat it all at once!” To make sure they listened to her, she followed them back to the bedroom. “Has anything strange happened while we were gone?”

“Which time?” Puff’s words were garbled as he tore into one of their favorite treats. “Who was screaming?”

“The maid found something odd.” Nick came in and perched on the end of the bed.

“Can’t you just get rid of the curse so we can go down to the Beverly Hills Hotel?” Fluff asked.

“There is no curse,” Jazz said. “At least, I don’t think there is.”

“There’s something going on,” the slipper insisted. “The walls change and look what happened in here.”

Jazz and Nick didn’t miss that the bed that had sported a shiny brass bedstead the night before was now an elegant four poster complete with drawn back bed curtains. Even the comforter was a rich shade of cranberry with lace edged pillows piled high.

“Mrs. Babbington hasn’t said a word about the rooms changing their looks,” Jazz mused. “And now Beatrice, my magick not able to reverse what I did to Sylvie, and what went on with the parlor. I feel like we’re in
Clue
meets
Nancy Drew
meets
Murder by Death
meets
Bewitched
.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she continued, “but I’m feeling aches where I never felt any before.” She rubbed her hands together to rid them of a phantom chill. Kicking off her shoes, she gestured to Fluff and Puff who sighed heavily but slid onto her feet. “I don’t want you guys here alone.”

“The hotel would take us. Just phone them your Visa number,” Fluff suggested.

Jazz ignored them as she turned to Nick. “Can you distract Mrs. Babbington so I can talk to someone in reception?”

He nodded. “You think Zorak can tell you something?”

“Unfortunately, I’m thinking of someone else.” She paused long enough to refresh her lip gloss and perfume before leaving the suite.

              “Why yes, we do have a lovely library, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Babbington said, warming under Nick’s smile. “Mr. Perry was quite a collector.”

              “I would love to look at it,” the vampire practically purred. “I think there’s nothing more fascinating than an estate’s library.” He leaned forward, confiding, “I spent hours in the library the last time I was at Windsor Castle. You can’t imagine, not just the fiction acquired, but books on history and personal journals.”  

              “Yes, well.” Mrs. Babbington blinked under his regard then bustled down a side passage with Nick following. He waved his hand behind his back giving Jazz the go ahead. “I don’t think Zorak built a fire in there this morning. I’ll send him in directly. Would you care for some tea or coffee?” She stopped at the two double doors and pushed them open.

“Coffee would be nice, thank you. No need for a fire.” He chuckled. He lightly grasped her arm before she could leave. “Perhaps you could show me the more interesting books here.”

Clearly happy to be asked, the elderly woman bustled inside with him.

Jazz wasted no time making her way to the reception area.

“Do you need anything, Miss Jazz?” Zorak asked, looking up from his task.

“No.” She nonchalantly leaned against the front desk and eyed the plumed pen. Puck blew her a kiss and cupped his overlarge privates.

“Be careful of him, miss. He bites,” Zorak warned her as he left the area.

“I think he’ll behave with me.” She stared hard at the imp. Once the zombie was out of earshot, for all she knew he could be missing an ear by now, she made sure to keep a safe distance. “What is going on here?”

“Give me a little kiss and fondle and I’ll tell all,” the prankster cooed, wiggling his behind.

“Tell all and I won’t have to zap you back to the Dark Ages,” she cooed back shaking her forefinger at him. Sparks of power lit up the digit.

The fiend sighed. “You witches haven’t been fun for centuries. Fine, what do you want to know?” He perched on the side of the inkwell. Regrettably, he sat with his legs splayed to accommodate his masculine overabundance.

“Euwww!” Fluff and Puff howled, struggling to escape Jazz’s feet, but she wasn’t allowing it.

Jazz wished for bleach for her eyeballs. “Is the house cursed?”

“You, of all witches, should know better. What kind of curse eliminator are you?” he snorted.

“An excellent one,” she retorted. “Is there some kind of hex on the building stones? An old magick? Dark, perhaps?” she lowered her voice since she hated to even think about baneful magick. She’d fought it several times over the centuries and even won, but that didn’t mean she didn’t treat it with proper caution.

“Many things are old,” he swung his legs in a way that made other parts of his body swung back and forth. “Powers and such that even such a comely witch as you isn’t familiar with.” He grinned lasciviously. “Much I could teach you if you’re interested. My kind has powers you could only dream of.” He leaned back, managing to show off his mighty erection.

“
Little
man, there is a vampire who would love nothing more than to rap that
thing
off,” she told him in a low voice. “Do us both a favor and tell me what’s going on in this house.”

“Open the front door.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the storm still raging outside. “I’ve already done that.”

“Do it now,” he purred.

Jazz rolled her eyes and walked to the door, grasping the polished knob. Except this time it wouldn’t turn and pulling on the door only resulted in her almost losing her balance. She ignored the puck’s gleeful chuckles and tried some magick on the doorknob. It still refused to open. She swung around.

The little rogue grinned. “Magick won’t let it open.”

“What does?” She really didn’t want to think what his answer might be.

“It will open once everyone in here is dead.”

“We have to leave.” Jazz burst into the library. While she was upset, she still made sure Nick was alone before she made her demand. She snatched up his coffee cup and drank deeply. “Ick! What is that?” She grabbed a napkin and swabbed her tongue.

“It’s a special blend for vampires.” He was unapologetic. “That will teach you to not ask first.”

“I’m not saying a word until I’ve had some real coffee. I’ll be right back.” She tried the parlor in hopes a coffee pot would be there. Finding none she peeked into the dining room then headed for the kitchen.

“Smells really really bad,” Fluff warned as she pushed the swinging door.

She conquered her gag reflex and pushed the door all the way open. Jazz skidded to a stop as she faced what looked more like a slaughterhouse than a food preparation area.

A long butcher block table was covered with blood and gore. She had no idea what the body lying across it was originally or whether it had been male or female. For now, it was sliced open from gullet to groin, its grayish intestines covered with fat white wiggling maggots. The head consisted of a misshapen mass of bone and brain. Huge blowflies buzzed overhead.

She was vaguely aware of the bunny slippers vomiting as she covered her mouth with her hands to keep herself from doing the same.

“We have to leave,” Puff insisted, his ears twisting around so much they almost sent him skyward.

“
Now
.” Fluff added his two cents.

Jazz tore her gaze from the sick sight to the glass door that led to the rear yard. She gulped and kept her eyes on the door as she slowly walked toward it. The longest five seconds of her life passed before she reached the latch.
If she could open it….

But the bolt refused to release no matter how much she fought it with her magick. Jazz’s nerves started to unravel as the door remained fully stuck.

“Is there something wrong, Ms. Tremaine?”

She spun around at the sound of Mrs. Babbington’s soothing voice.

“I-uh-I came in looking for some coffee and needed fresh air. I mean, look at—” Her words floated off as she stared at a butcher block table that now only displayed a large crystal bowl filled with fruit. A coffeemaker wafted rich fumes and metal pots bubbled away on an industrial size stove.

No blood, no gore. No smell assaulting her senses.

Just Mrs. Babbington standing inside the door. Jazz frowned. The woman looked as if she’d lost two sizes since morning. Her amethyst silk dress looked well tailored and even her wrinkles were less defined as if she’d spent the morning at a luxury spa.

The imp’s right, Jazz. Things aren’t what they seem to be.

She forced a smile to her lips. “I guess it’s the rain. Having to close windows and such.” She managed to walk across the kitchen that now smelled of roasting chicken and rosemary instead of a gutted body.

“Let me get you some coffee.” The hotel manager glided toward the coffeemaker.

Jazz felt her gorge rise.
You can’t let her know you realize things are very very wrong.
“Thank you.” She managed not to tremble as she accepted the proffered cup and escaped to the library.

“What’s wrong?” Nick only had to take one look at her face.

“A lot,” she said tight-lipped, wedging in next to him in the easy chair. He grimaced and obligingly shifted for her. “But we can’t talk here.”

He nodded. “I’ve found some interesting books in here,” he said in a normal voice. “Mr. Perry collected some fascinating volumes on history, world events of the day, and even the occult.” He held up a large leather-bound book with faded gold-leaf lettering,
The History of Manfred’s Keep.

“I see you have found some reading material, Mr. Gregory.” Mrs. Babbington paused in the library doorway.