Hotel Hex (7 page)

“I found an interesting book about Laird Manfred.” He held up the volume as he smiled using his vampire power to have her simpering and blushing.

Jazz, quick to pick up what he was doing, tried to pluck the book out of his hands and discovered it was a lot heavier than she thought. She cradled the weighty tome in her arms as she leafed through it. “Look at these drawings. How bloodthirsty.” She gave a dramatic shudder. “What else have you found, love?” She leaned over him to study the four books piled on a table by his other elbow.

Mrs. Babbington stepped inside and stood in front of the couple, her hands lightly clasped in front of her.

“I thought I would let you know that I tried contacting the owner about poor Madame Fairfield, but due to the storm the telephone lines are down,” she said.

Jazz plucked her cell phone out of her pocket and grimaced at the lack of bars. “Looks like the landline’s not the only service down,” she muttered, looking at the woman. Hm, if she wasn’t mistaken the innkeeper’s eyes appeared a bit sharper than earlier along with a decided lack of crows feet.

Nick said nothing, but didn’t miss the tension in Jazz’s body.

“Mrs. Babbington, how much do you know about magick?” the witch asked.

The woman smiled. “While I am aware there is quite a bit of supernatural power in the world, I know very little about it, Ms. Tremaine. I am aware that Zorak is called a zombie and also what you and Mr. Gregory are.” She self-consciously touched the coil of hair at the base of her neck as she sent a shy smile in Nick’s direction.

Jazz frowned at her. She kept her cup in her hand as she walked over to the mahogany bookshelves and idly examined the contents. “Then you must realize that strange things are going on in this building and I don’t just mean Beatrice’s death.”

“Strange things?” Mrs. Babbington echoed with a puzzled smile.

Jazz nodded. “Wallpaper and carpets are changing their designs and colors. Paintings appear sentient.” 

The other woman held up her hands. “Actually, no I don’t understand what you’re saying about the wallpaper and artwork. I realize magick is something you are extremely familiar with, but I do not think what you are feeling is that. Ms. Vandemeer senses the hotel is filled with a great deal of sadness and pain and that is understandable. After all, this house has experienced many deaths and sorrows over the years, but doesn’t that happen with any building that has withstood so many centuries?”

Jazz abandoned her perusal. “True.” 

“We still vote for going down to the Beverly Hills Hotel,” Fluff piped up from the floor. “No nasties there. Just pretty girls giving us massages and chocolate.”

She looked down at her feet. “And I vote for silence.”

“Not after seeing that nasty kitchen,” Puff muttered, his ears rotating like helicopter blades. “Splatter movies could take notes.”

The manager’s face twisted in shock. “Our kitchen has more than passed the health codes. Our chef keeps it immaculate.”

“Sorry. They have a twisted sense of humor,” Jazz said. “They’ll behave.” She shot them a warning look. “Or they’ll find themselves locked in my suitcase.”

Mrs. Babbington looked uncertain. “I must see how lunch preparations are going.” She turned and left the room.

“That should prove interesting when there was no one in there cooking among the blood and gore,” Jazz murmured. “I’m serious, Nick. We need to talk.”

“And we will.” He easily picked up the weighty books and carried them over to the shelf he’d gotten them from. Except the previously empty spaces were now filled with books.

“Like we didn’t expect that to happen. Just leave them on the table. I bet they’ll find themselves a home in no time.” She set her cup down and stood up. Not that she dared drink the contents anyway. “I think we need to return to Beatrice’s rooms and take another look.”

Nick kept his hand resting comfortably against the back of her neck as they walked down the hallway.

“No magick in this place my ass,” Jazz mused.

“And a sweet one at that.” He patted said body part.

              She ignored him and wasted no time heading for the stairs.

“After everything else there’s no way I trust the elevator,” she told Nick. “For all we know there’s an axe murderer lurking in there.”

“Between your magick and my strength I’d say we’d be safe.”

“What magick?” Jazz hissed. “It’s not working.”

He spun around. “What in Hades do you mean it’s not working?”

“Just that.” She waved her hands. Not one spark of power appeared. “Kaput. Zip. I can’t open a simple lock. I can’t even open an easy door.” Her moss green eyes shone with fury. “Even worse, we can’t leave here.”

“Nonsense.” He walked over to the front door.

Jazz smiled without one smidge of humor. She waved her hand. “Be my guest.”

Nick tempered his strength so he wouldn’t pull the door off its hinges. It didn’t budge. “Shit.” He pulled harder. Nothing. He stood back and kicked the wood panels, then the glass. It remained intact, but he swore he felt the impact all the way up his leg.

“Told you so.” Jazz headed for the stairs.

“Ha! I could have told you it wouldn’t open,” Puck announced with a wicked chortle.

Jazz’s foot stalled on the first step. She spun on her heel and stalked over to the desk. “Tell us what’s going on.”

“That’s for me to know and you find out, sassy witch.” He snapped his fingers and winked out of existence.

“There’s another puzzle for us,” Nick sighed. “Why his magick works and yours doesn’t.”

“How much you want to bet only Mrs. Babbington has the answers,” she snarled, returning to the stairs.

“No bet. And no way she’ll tell us either.”

Chapter 7

“There is something seriously wrong with that woman.” Jazz stumbled when her balance shifted from a gentle rocking motion under her feet. She reached out a hand to the door as it wavered in front of her while the wallpaper on either side shifted from dark pink cabbage roses to a gold fleur di lis on a cream background. “What the—?” Before she could finish her sentence the wallpaper returned to its original state. “That was strange.” She opened the door then stopped short.

“Something tells me this isn’t our room.” Nick echoed her thoughts as he stared past her shoulder.

“This is really bad,” Puff announced from Jazz’s feet.

“Very bad,” Fluff agreed.

Vivid shades of red, gold, orange, and green assaulted their eyes as they stared at colorful filmy drapes along the walls and arrayed across a bed the size of a small country. The bed was piled with enough pillows to fill the Grand Canyon. Heated air scented with a heavy musk caused Jazz and the slippers to sneeze.

Jazz shook her head and slammed the door closed. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before she cautiously opened the door again and peeked in.

The room was restored to the condition in which she and Nick had left it. 

“Dude, it looked like something out of
Tales of the Arabian Nights
!” Fluff and Puff abandoned Jazz and skittered across the carpet then onto the couch. They settled on a plump black velvet pillow. “Smelled weird but kinda cool.”

“So not my style.” Jazz wasting no time exploring the bedroom and examining the walls, even getting down on the floor to look under the bed. She cast her senses out and found nothing but non-magick air. “This makes no sense.”

“You can’t perform magick right now, remember? That probably means you can’t sense it either.” Nick poured himself a healthy dose of whiskey and downed the contents in one gulp.              

“I hate people who make sense.” Jazz settled gingerly on a chair. “First the kitchen looks like a slaughterhouse. Then it looks normal. These rooms looked like something out of a seraglio then it is back to Victorian furniture.” She pulled up her legs and briskly rubbed her feet. She started to open her mouth then closed it. “I guess my flats won’t come in here on their own,” she mumbled, pushing herself out of her chair and walking into the bedroom.

“It may not be a good idea to stay here too long. We’ve got too much to do,” Nick told her when she returned with her substitute footwear.

“I bet Derwood would be happy to help us.”

“We’ll have to tell him what happened to Beatrice.”

“Good idea since it wouldn’t be good for him to find out on his own.” She grimaced as the lights flickered. “The lights going out is all we’d need.” She started to stand up but Nick pressed lightly down on her shoulder.

“Tell you what, let me go talk to him,” he suggested. “You take some time and indulge in a hot bath. Beatrice and her room aren’t going anywhere.”

The prospect of hot water and bubbles had her smiling. “You talked me into it.”

Once Nick was gone, Jazz wasted no time gathering up her favorite bubble bath, loofah mitt and iPod. She smiled at the sight of the bunny slippers snoozing comfortably on the bed.

“Perfect,” she sighed, slipping into the bubble-filled steamy water and resting her neck against a rolled up towel braced on the lip of the claw foot tub.

With the sounds of her
Let’s Keep Jazz Relaxed
playlist as background, Jazz closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander. She knew the way her thoughts sometimes tended to jump here and there would torment most people, but for some reason she found it a good way to figure things out.

Magick that isn’t magick.

Horrific illusions that are real even to me.

Room interiors changing.

Mrs. Babbington.
Her brain suddenly stuttered to a halt.

Mrs. Babbington isn’t …
And again it was as if her brain screeched to a sudden stop with the inability to go any further.

Puck knows what’s going on but prefers to speak in riddles.

What’s Zorak to all of this? How can Mrs. Babbington know he’s supernatural yet refuse to believe the house is magick?

She opened her eyes and twitched her nose but didn’t expect anything to happen. “It’s a sad state of affairs when the curse eliminator can’t even help herself.”

She took a deep breath and slowly sank under the water. The heated liquid washed over her face in a soothing wave. She stayed under until her lungs started to protest.

Jazz floated upward then floundered when her face and hands encountered a solid surface.

She opened her eyes, wincing at the sting from the bubble bath. Except she couldn’t see anything that should have stopped her from sitting up. She tried again and realized there was an invisible barrier preventing her escape from the water.

I can’t breathe!

Panic raced through her blood as she felt her lungs labor for much needed air. Jazz slapped her hands against the surface, feeling the solid barrier connect with her skin and not even a tiny air pocket in sight.

She flailed in the large tub as stark terror overtook rationality. Her rapidly reducing common sense demanded she scream, but she knew that would only allow water into her lungs and she would drown that much faster.

Nick!
Her scream echoed inside her head as black spots danced before her eyes while the need for precious oxygen racked her body.

Jazz’s eyes drifted shut and she barely felt her back against the bottom of the tub when she suddenly felt something grab her legs and shoulders and haul her upward.

She gasped, pulling in air and coughing violently, retching up water.

“What in Hades?” Nick promptly turned her over and pressed between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t until then that Jazz realized she’d swallowed some water along the way. It took her a moment to realize he was shaking as hard as she was.

“Breathe,” she wheezed, holding on to him with dear life. “Need to.” She was still trembling as he enveloped her in a large towel.

“What happened?” he demanded, picking her up and carrying her into the bedroom. He soon had her bundled under the bed covers.

Jazz pushed her sopping hair away from her face and looked up. If she wasn’t mistaken her lover looked frightened.

And nothing scared Nick.
Ever
.

“I couldn’t get out of the tub,” she rasped, wincing at the hoarseness in her voice. “Something was laid over the top. I couldn’t breathe.”

Nick settled beside her and began to briskly rub her back and shoulders. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m not losing you,” he said with dark ferocity. “I will battle the Lord of Death himself to keep you with me.”

“I’d pay to see that show.” Her teeth chattered from the shock. Right now, she was content to have his arms around her. She wasn’t about to admit she was still afraid. Before, she was scared of drowning. Now, seeing Nick’s fear she experienced another form of dread.

That perhaps something dire could happen to him next.

“I don’t want you leaving this room,” Nick said grimly.

Jazz pulled on a sweater that matched her eyes. She looped a chunky gold chain around her neck. She’d only taken the time to dry her hair and twist it into a knot on top of her head.

“You know that I have to do this.” She was relieved to notice her hands no longer shook even if her insides were doing the Chicken Dance. She rubbed them briskly in hopes of warming them up. “Nick, we need to find out what’s going on here.
I
need to. Did you talk to Derwood?”

“I didn’t spare the details and he was very shocked to hear what happened to Beatrice,” he replied, taking her hands between his and massaging them. “He said when he went up to his room after breakfast he felt as if he traveled twice the distance to get there. He told me the hall appeared never ending then without any warning everything was fine. After hearing what appeared to happen to Beatrice he decided it was a good idea to spend the day in the library. He planned to take a bottle of scotch in with him.” His expression darkened. “Also, I ran into Mrs. Babbington on my way back here. She wanted to chat but…”

“But?” she prompted, noticing the look in his eyes.

He shook his head. “Jazz, we know there’s a lot that’s not right here.”