Hotel Hex (9 page)

“Funny thing, I was never into organ meats. I’ve always hated liver even if served with a lot of bacon and onions,” she drawled, pushing aside her plate. She winced as she felt a shooting pain up her fingers.

Mrs. Babbington smiled wider. “A touch of arthritis, my dear? Very common as one ages.”

“What are you?” Derwood asked with a keening gasp, lifting his hands and noticing the tremors that he hadn’t experienced before. “What did you do to Beatrice and Sylvie? What are you doing to us?” He used his fork and knife to push his plate to away.

The innkeeper continued smiling as she waved a languid hand. Her bluntly cut nails were now painted scarlet and sharpened to a deadly point.

“It’s not you doing all this, it’s the house,” Jazz said suddenly. She laughed harshly. “That’s why it continually changes. It draws in power.”

“Very good, clever witch.” Mrs. Babbington clapped her hands, pleased with her answer. “It’s very simple, really. The house taketh away,” she moved her hand in a circular gesture to encompass them, “and the house giveth.” She placed her hand against her chest. “To me.”

“Story has it that baneful magick was cast at the very second Laird Manfred was killed and his blood infused the stones,” Nick chimed in. “The only way that could happen was if he had a powerful dark sorcerer in his employ. What was the goal? Did he think he could cheat death or that he would eventually find a way to be brought back? One problem though. His body was cut up in pieces and then each piece individually burned and the ashes stashed in special urns. Yet somehow you’ve found a way to reap the benefits. This might be a wild guess, but I’d say the real owner is you.”

“The question is why you chose us,” Jazz said, not taking her gaze off the other woman.

“Oh, Griet, there are a variety of reasons.” She tipped her head to one side, looking coy as she deliberately used Jazz’s birth name. Something the witch preferred to forget. 

“Why don’t you fill us in?” Jazz invited. “Come on, Babbington, or whatever your name is, give us the 411.”

Nick started to speak, coughed, and paused. “Amira,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a sorcerer who worked with Laird Manfred, it was a sorceress. The most powerful known at the time was Amira. Rumor had it she originated in Babylon, mistress to powerful kings and wielder of strong magick.” He didn’t take his eyes off Mrs. Babbington. “Except you fell out of favor when you killed your last lover’s heir. If I recall correctly, he had you walled up. Except you weren’t there when that wall was brought down six hundred years later.”

“How do you know this?” Jazz asked him.

“I read.” He didn’t keep his eyes off the other woman. “Plus, the Protectorate’s archives are very extensive.”

Mrs. Babbington/Amira’s smile turned to ice. “How wonderful to know I haven’t been forgotten.” She turned her attention to Derwood. “Oh dear, Mr. Grantham, you look a tad pale. Are you feeling all right?”

The man in question swallowed as he cast sideways glances at the brain still resting on the plate.

“I am fine,” he said between stiff lips. “I just don’t want to end up like the others.”

“Why bring us into this, Amira?” Jazz asked. “There has to be a method to your madness.” She bared her teeth. “Three humans and two preternaturals are an unusual mix.”

“Yes, but various magicks can be tapped in many forms.”

The witch rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I learned that my first year in the Witches Academy.” She waved her hand in a ‘move it along’ gesture.

“As you have already guessed, the stones from this house are the source of my power. A resource that no one else can violate,” she injected a less than subtle warning. “While your magick is strong and something I require, I like to have a varied population surrounding me. Especially since I have been lying dormant for so long. Beatrice gave me the gift of a beautiful voice.” Her face darkened with fury. “I thought with Sylvie I would have the opportunity to strengthen my gift of Sight, but she was nothing more than a pretender. I hope to succeed with Derwood.” The man flinched when she smiled as she reached over and patted his hand. “After all, he is a man of the world. His memories of his travels will greatly aid me as I explore this world so new to me. While Nikolai,” she smiled warmly at Nick even if the gesture was cold as ice, “carries a darkness that will come in handy, and your powerful magick will finish the circle. Once it is complete I will be invincible.” 

Amira relaxed in her chair, resting her arms on the polished wood. The air around her shimmered in a black-tinged haze. When the dark specks disappeared she looked nothing like the silver-haired plump woman who first greeted them or the blond temptress of moments ago.

Now they looked at her true self. And it was unsettling to Jazz and Nick who knew what ancient power truly was.

Amira’s thick hair fell to her waist in a blue-ebony sheen, and a delicate gold filigree circlet set with a large ruby wrapped her head. Her gown was a lustrous gold that left her golden-skinned arms bare except for a gold cuff bracelet set with another ruby that circled her bicep. Gleaming onyx eyes lined with kohl created the exotic look. She moved in a languid stretch that resembled a serpent.

As she faced them her body flickered in and out with a faint static hiss.

“The true Amira, I presume,” Nick drawled, sprawling back in his chair, his arm draped over the back. “The shifting images in the house, the rain, and all the illusions. Even securing the doors so we can’t leave. It’s all due to you.”

“In the flesh. You are a very handsome male,” Amira purred, her voice accented by a hint of the exotic, desert nights and rare spices. “What a shame I need you in other ways. You would make an excellent consort. Perhaps I will make pleasurable use of you before you expire.” Her eyes gleamed with cold lust.

Jazz shot to her feet and leaned forward, planting her hands on the table. Her lips stretched in a smile that matched her opponent’s in malice.

“Bring it on,
bitch.”
With that she straightened up and left the room.

Nick likewise stood up. “Where my witch goeth, so go I.”

Derwood stumbled upward. “I’m with them.” His gaze was downcast, but he was equally swift to leave the dining room.

“Oh Griet,” Amira’s lyrical voice followed them, the sound like shards of glass on the skin. “The weekend will be gone soon. When that happens so shall you.”

Chapter 9

“Is there something you can do?” Derwood looked wild-eyed as he faced Jazz and Nick. He remained on their heels when they entered the lobby where Zorak lounged in a chair reading a newspaper.

“Is there something you all need?” he drawled, straightening up.

“Do you know how to kill the spawn of Hades in there?” Jazz asked.

Zorak slowly shook his head. The movement caused one of his eyes to roll around in the socket like a milky marble. “She’s one scary lady.”

“Then you know her plans?” Jazz inquired.

“She don’t tell me nothin’,” the amiable zombie admitted.

“So what does she get from you?” Nick asked.

Zorak’s shrug sent a few skin flakes floating in the air. “Can’t get nothin’ from me. Been dead too long. I think Amira keeps me around for laughs.” He stood up, joints loudly creaking. He tipped his bellhop’s cap and ambled off.

“What do you think is going on?” Derwood looked as if he was ready to grab Nick’s arm, but luckily resisted the urge.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Jazz suggested. “I think we all could use a good drink and since the parlor is out of commission…”

By unspoken agreement the three ascended the stairs.

Derwood collapsed in a chair the moment they were in Jazz and Nick’s suite with the door firmly closed behind them.

Nick poured a healthy dose of whiskey into three glasses and handed them out. Derwood downed his in one gulp. Nick tipped the bottle to refill his glass.

“So Mrs. Babbington, AKA Amira, is some kind of sorceress? What the hell does that mean? And what exactly did she do to Beatrice and Sylvie?” he demanded, once the second glass of whiskey followed the first.

Jazz sat on the couch with Nick beside her.

“You know more about that piece of work than I do,” she said to Nick.

“History said that Amira was born sometime in the 1900s BC in Babylon,” he began, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Legend has it that her father cast extremely dark magick spells on his wife in order to conceive the perfect child. While history said her mother died in childbirth, it’s been thought her father killed his wife once Amira was born. All the slaves that attended the birth were disposed of at the same time. Their blood was mixed with spells and milk for the baby.” He smiled faintly at Derwood’s look of horror. “He raised his daughter within the dark arts, teaching her all he knew with the goal of her having her tempt a king and raising their situation to a more influential level. Not at all what you expected is it, Derwood?”

The travel writer shuddered. “I’ve stayed in haunted castles before. Felt spirits around me, but I have never encountered anything like this.” He clasped and unclasped his fingers. “She talked so
normally
about draining us of…” he shook his head.

“Our life sources,” Nick finished. “She drained Beatrice and Sylvie of theirs and we’re next.”

Derwood combed his fingers through his hair then recoiled when he saw strands come away in his fingers.

“It begins subtly,” Jazz chimed in. “Obviously, just being here starts the process. But I have an idea she likes to personally finish it.”

“The cup of tea on Beatrice’s night table,” Nick said. “Perhaps Amira took that up to her.”

“We need to leave,” Derwood insisted.

“And we will as soon as we figure out how to get out the building,” Jazz told him. “Just don’t drink any liquids she offers you.”

“That won’t be a problem.” He looked uneasily at Nick. “But what will you—?”

“I’ll be fine,” Nick assured him. “Your neck is perfectly safe. One of the perks of being an old vampire is less need for sustenance.”

Jazz glanced toward the bedroom. She got up and went in. She breathed a sigh of relief on finding the slippers snuggled in their usual sleeping pattern among the pillows.

She pulled out her bag of supplies and picked through stones and herbs that emphasized protection. 

By the time she finished, she’d fixed a circle of safety around the bunnies. With her magick gone she wasn’t sure the circle would work, but she felt the need to do something to shield those she loved.

Fluff opened one eye and stared at her.

“You both have to stay on the bed within this circle,” she whispered, not wanting to wake Puff up. “It’s the only way I can protect you.”

Fluff nodded wide-eyed. “You still owe us.” 

“And I promise I’ll make it up to you.” She broke the circle long enough to lay a pile of licorice root in it then sealed it again. “I’m serious, guys, you have to stay here.”

Fluff nodded. “Just don’t forget us.”

She smiled. “There’s no way I will.” She went to the armoire and pulled out a change of clothes. It was time to put on her game face.

Nick refilled both his and Derwood’s glasses. The man sipped his drink this time as they sat there in silence.

“I’ll be honest,” the other man admitted finally, “I’m a coward and really don’t want to be alone.”

“Understandable.” Nick paused. “Amira’s already hinted our time is running out. Jazz and I need to work fast and dirty on this. We don’t intend to let her win,” he said quietly.

“But what can you do? Jazz’s magick is gone.”

“As if that will stop me.” Jazz walked out wearing black skinny jeans that looked painted on and a dark purple cowl-neck sleeveless silk top. She added a moonstone pendant and matching earrings. She pulled on a black leather short-waisted jacket. She had dampened her hair and pulled it back in a severe French braid. “No over the hill sorceress is going to beat me.” She dropped into a chair to pull on her stiletto-heeled boots. Her gold ankle bracelet with its amethyst dotted broomstick charm winked at them.

“That’s my witch,” Nick said proudly.

“What will you do first?” Derwood asked curiously.

She grimaced. “Talk to the last thing I want to.” She stood up and stamped her feet. “Sorry guys, but I think it’s best I do this myself. Fluff and Puff are in a safety circle and promised not to leave.” She leaned over and dropped a kiss on Nick’s lips. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Go do your thing,” he whispered back.

“You’re letting her go alone?” Derwood asked.

“Best thing I can do.” Jazz heard Nick say as she left the room.

Jazz bypassed the elevator and went down the stairs. She hated having dead senses. They left her with no way to figure out where Amira might be. She had a pretty good idea they wouldn’t be seeing the Mrs. Babbington image again now that she’d revealed her true self.

“Hopefully, she’s off eating eye of newt and toadstool soup,” she muttered, as she entered the lobby. She detoured to the entrance doors and looked through the glass. The sky was still gray and the heavy rain audible.

“Whoa mama! Hot babe coming through!” Puck hooted and hollered as Jazz approached the desk. “I gotta say you are one fine looking witch.” He danced around the inkwell.

“Dial it back, boyo. You’re as much a prisoner here as we are,” she said. “But you might be able to offer some suggestions.” She leaned on the desk top, bent over just enough that the draped neckline dipped a bit lower.

Puck uttered a low whistle and tried to look down her top. Jazz flicked her fingers at him. This time there were no sparks of magick, but she still made sure it would hurt.

“Come on!” he whined. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“I see enough of you as it is.” She ignored his extending penis. “Why does Amira have you here?”

“Amira? Who’s that? Never heard of her.” He casually crossed his legs, making sure his body parts were on full display.

“Cut the innocence crap. You know very well who she is,” she hissed. “And what she can do. So what did she promise you? It’s a well known fact that Puck does nothing without getting something in return.”