Hex Appeal

by Linda Wisdom

  “I’ll pick up the audio version.”

  Jazz crossed the parking lot and almost lost her balance as the stilettos cooed and abruptly turned her in the opposite direction as a man walked past her.

  “Do not even think about it!” she hissed a warning then looked up at the man who knew how to wear a pair of snug jeans. “Oooh, he is cute. But you can’t go chasing men.” Croc pasted a pout on her glossy lips while Delilah exhaled a pained sigh as they turned Jazz back in the correct direction.

  As she walked toward the entrance, Jazz conjured up a membership card for the warehouse and walked inside. She looked around briefly then followed the signs advertising author Thea James was signing her newest historical romance.

  “I loved Be Mine Alone,” said a woman standing in front of the cloth-draped table heaped high with hardcover books. Two poster-size reproductions of the book cover flanked each side of the table. About fifteen women stood behind the woman waiting for Thea to autograph her book. “Colin was your best hero yet.”

  “Thank you.” Thea dipped her head, a smile on her red-glossed lips. Her sleek raven’s-wing hair was swept up into an intricate knot with rubies displayed at her ears and around her throat. Large eyes the shade of a deep blue topaz echoed her smile. It was no wonder her red silk suit screamed power in all caps. Her manner was that of a queen receiving her due. “I was quite fond of him myself.”

  So was Fiona since she was the one who fooled around with Colin back in 1787, Jazz thought as she remained in the background in order to enjoy the show. If nothing else, Thea knew how to put on a performance worthy of a literary diva.

  At one point Thea looked over and noticed Jazz. Her face lit up and she gave a quick wave of her fingers.

  Once the last fan left the table, Thea jumped up, grabbed her Prada bag, and hurried over to Jazz.

  “It is so good to see you!” She hugged her tightly. “This place is a warehouse,” she whispered.

  “A lot of people shop here and it looks like a lot of your fans do too,” Jazz whispered back.

  Thea drew back slightly. “I’m usually offered coffee or my favorite wine and Belgian chocolates at my signings,” she said in a low voice. “Here I was offered a Coke in a paper cup.” She wrinkled her nose. “And my publicist said this is what goes on.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Jazz assured her, even as she knew her sister witch only too well.

  Thea considered herself the queen of historical romance who should be treated as such.

  Thea stood back and scanned Jazz from the top of her head to her toes. “You’re wearing the stilettos!” she exclaimed. Croc and Delilah looked up and cooed at her. “Aren’t they wonderful? The minute I saw them I knew they were meant for you. And so much nicer than those nasty slippers of yours,” she added in a low voice. Both Croc and Delilah blew out girly raspberries. “I got a pair of gorgeous dragon-skin boots when I picked these up for you.”

  Jazz considered herself lucky she hadn’t been the recipient of the boots. Fate knew what Fluff and Puff would have done to them. The stilettos always managed to stay out of bunny jail range. She’d even seen a hint of fear cross their faces when they were in the vicinity of the slippers.

  “Well, thank you for the shoes,” she said, even as she found herself spun around and steered toward the exit. “Don’t you have anything to do?”

  “My time is up and I’m out of here.” Thea was a witch on a mission as they headed for the exit. “I made dinner reservations for us at a lovely restaurant the hotel concierge recommended.”

  Jazz increased her pace to keep up with Thea.

  “Please tell me you brought your sexy roommate’s Porsche and not that ghastly Thunderbird of yours,” Thea said, just before they arrived at the car.

  “I heard that! And I’m not ghastly,” Irma announced.

  “Let’s all be ladies here,” Jazz said, shooting a warning glance at Irma.

  “Did you get the audiobook for me?” Irma asked, ignoring Thea.

  “Yes,” Jazz lied, digging deep inside her bag and pulling out the package.

  Thea shook her head as she pulled her cell phone out of her bag. “I’ll call the limo service I use.”

  “Irma can sit in the back.”

  “The trunk you mean.”

  Jazz wished she’d stayed home and watched the football game with Nick and Krebs even if she considered football an appalling waste of time.

  “Sit, Thea,” she ordered. “Irma, in the back. What’s the name and address of the restaurant?”

  It was no surprise that the restaurant was elegant and catered to the wealthy. Since she knew Thea would be picking up the check, she chose all her favorites.

  “How is the curse elimination business going?” Thea asked, savoring her martini. “You really should try this. It’s called the Abra Cadabra.”

  Jazz chuckled at the apt name. “No thanks. I’ll stick with my double fudge martini.” She held up her glass. “Although I was tempted to try the Haunted Bride cocktail. I may have to come back here just to try each one of their selections. As for the business, I did end up with a fantastic designer wardrobe, shoes, and bags courtesy of breaking a curse on a Hollywood wife. She had a walk-in closet even you would envy. And I managed to help a little boy whose older sister cursed him into spitting up beetles.” She swallowed her giggle as the waiter who was approaching them abruptly made a 180-degree turn. “What about you? Are you still seeing that Italian comte?”

  Thea shook her head. “Lorenzo is very much last year. Especially when I caught him in bed with a Russian supermodel.”

  Jazz winced in sympathy. But she also knew Thea’s recuperative powers when it came to the opposite sex. She bounced back pretty quickly, but if the man did Thea wrong, there was a good chance he didn’t escape unscathed. Thea was considered one of Blair’s best customers for revenge spells.

  “Just as long as you made him suffer,” Jazz said.

  Thea smiled. “He’ll also make a wonderful character in a future book. Not as the hero, of course.”

  “Other than Lorenzo, what’s been going on with you?”

  “I’ve been working on my new book along with handling this book tour.” A smile from Thea had the waiter instantly returning to take their order. The man was so enthralled with Thea that he didn’t write a thing on the pad and Jazz wondered if they’d get the right food. “And the writing hasn’t been easy lately,” she said in a low voice.

  “You can’t be running out of ideas yet. I thought we all had fodder to keep you going for decades.” Jazz surveyed the basket of rolls and chose one along with a pat of chilled butter.

  “That’s not the problem.” Thea examined her French-polished nails with more care than usual. She dredged up a smile. “Still, let’s talk about you.”

  Now Jazz was convinced something was wrong. Thea never asked anyone about what was going on with them. Not when she could talk about herself.

  Jazz leaned slightly across the table. “I have been experiencing bad dreams,” she murmured.

  “Nightmares are nothing unusual.”

  “These are.” She recounted the more chilling dreams, feeling the same anxiety as she did when she woke up after the dreams. She picked up her glass and swallowed the rest of her drink, but the alcohol only intensified her unease.

  Thea was quiet for a moment, tapping her fingers against the tabletop. “It sounds like your dreams are induced by magick.”

  “Gee, ya think? I may not have figured it out right away, but it did come up later on. And nothing I’ve done has worked. No amount of cleansing, warding against dark dreams, you name it.”

  “Have you done any searches to determine who cast this spell against you?” She glanced down, idly eying her broomstick charm on her ankle bracelet. It was no wonder the stone in her charm was the extremely rare and expensive red diamond.

  Jazz shook her head. “Deep down I didn’t want to consider someone was controlling my dreams. I preferred putting it dow
n to eating too much junk food before bedtime.”

  “Or perhaps you didn’t want to think the curse eliminator could be cursed.” Thea smiled at the waiter as their salads were placed before them. She approved her choice of wine and waited until both glasses were partially filled and the waiter left them to their food. “You’ve had a busy time what with vanquishing Clive Reeves.” She tactfully ignored Jazz’s grimace. “You have Nick back in your life and you still work for that horrid creature. If I were you, I would make a list of anyone who could have it in for you.” Her laughter was pure music. “Oh my, perhaps I should start writing thrillers. This could be exciting.” She quickly reached in her bag and pulled out her BlackBerry, quickly tapping in some notes.

  “This cannot go in a book, Thea,” Jazz protested. A heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn’t a good idea no matter what the literary witch thought.

  Thea paused and saw the panic on Jazz’s face. She made a face and put her phone away. “You’re right. This could be something very serious. What can I do to help?”

  Now Jazz was convinced this was either a crazy dream or Thea had had a partial personality transplant. She was also touched by her offer, but knew she would have to refuse. Only the victim could fight a curse leveled on a witch.

  “I’d be grateful if you come up with any information on how to find the one casting the curse,” she said.

  “You do know that your best bet is The Library.”

  “I was hoping I could bypass that experience, thank you very much.”

  “The Librarian still doesn’t like you?” She correctly pronounced “the” with a long “e” as was ordained by the pompous Librarian heading the otherworld library.

  “Still? He’s never liked me.”

  “He doesn’t like anyone.” Thea waved a hand in dismissal. “He should have been retired centuries ago. The antiquated rules that allow a wizard with such an imperious nature to remain in that position are ridiculous.”

  “He has friends in high places.”

  “And I’m sure they’re all as fusty and domineering as he is. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll help you find a way.” She reached over and patted Jazz’s hand.

  “Okay, this is so not you. What is going on?”

  Thea concentrated on her salad. “I told you. It’s just a problem with my work-in-progress. All writers go through it.”

  Jazz knew better. Thea had been penning stories for hundreds of years. At first using a man’s name when women weren’t thought to have the mental capacity to have an imagination and later under a variety of pseudonyms as she wrote penny dreadfuls, westerns, pulp fiction, and later on, historical romance that shot her skyward in the romantic fiction genre. She also knew if Thea didn’t want to divulge her problems, she wasn’t going to say a word even if Eurydice, headmistress of the Witches’ Academy and head of the Witches’ Council, demanded an explanation. Thea’s stubborn nature was as strong as Jazz’s.

  “Come to Moonstone Lake for the next full moon,” she urged, feeling her sister witch’s need to center herself as strongly as her own need for that grounding.

  Thea shook her head and looked away. “I have my book tour,” she murmured.

  “Then come for Samhain. You can surely do that. You haven’t celebrated with us for years,” Jazz reminded her.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Thea’s reply was non-committal.

  While Jazz wouldn’t think twice about forcing an issue, she also knew it was a lost cause with Thea. “All right, then let’s forget about what could be my curse and your writer’s block.” She forked up goat cheese and romaine. “Tell me about your trip to Milan.” Luckily, that was enough to brighten Thea’s face and have her talking a mile a minute.

  For the rest of the meal Jazz only had to enjoy her dinner and listen to Thea’s latest adventures.

  By the time she dropped her friend off at her hotel, the two women were relaxed and each had momentarily forgotten about their worries.

  “How long are you staying in Los Angeles?” Jazz asked.

  “I leave for San Francisco in the morning. I have signings there for the next four days then up to Seattle and New Mexico where I’m the keynote speaker for a romance writer’s conference.” Thea air-kissed her cheek. “Let me know what you find out about your curse. Of course, that could take a while, since I’m sure you have a long list of people not happy with you.”

  Jazz groaned at the idea of even making out a list. “Let’s just say there’s a few who could head it. Safe journey.” She air-kissed back.

  And released a huge sigh once she was on the freeway heading back to Santa Monica with Celtic Woman’s A New Journey playing. Even if the vintage T-Bird didn’t come with a CD player, it was no trouble having one installed. Jazz still recalled the mechanic almost in tears as he added the equipment to the classic car. He told her she was ruining the car. She considered she was updating it.

  “May I come out now?” Irma asked, exhaling noisily.

  “Of course.”

  Irma immediately appeared in the passenger seat. “What did she mean about you having bad dreams?”

  And here Jazz hoped to keep that to herself. “I’m giving up Thai food before bedtime. It’s nothing.”

  “There are times you don’t lie very well. This is one of them.” A lit cigarette appeared between her white-gloved fingers then just as quickly disappeared when Jazz flicked her a warning look.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. You give up the Lucky Strikes. I won’t lie to you.”

  “I smoked Lucky Strikes when I was alive and I don’t intend to give them up just because I’m dead. Besides, you’d still lie to me,” Irma pointed out.

  “Then we’ll never know, will we?”

  Jazz thought she was off the hook, but she should have known the ghost had a different agenda.

  “So have you found an illusion spell for me, so I can have a more up-to-date wardrobe?” she asked just as Jazz’s feet crossed the carriage house’s threshold.

  Jazz made a face. “Tomorrow. I will hit the spell books tomorrow,” she promised.

  “I’ll hold you to that!” she shouted even as Jazz beat it to the house.

  Jazz heard the murmur of male voices as she passed through the kitchen. She snagged herself a glass of wine before heading for the family room. She waited a moment, listening to what was playing in the background.

  “Men and sports,” she murmured, swallowing some wine first. “Hello boys,” she said throatily, sauntering into the room.

  Jazz’s first thought was that Krebs looked guilty about something and her second thought was that Nick knew why Krebs looked guilty. She made a mental note to torture the information out of him when they were alone.

  “How was dinner?” Krebs asked.

  “Very posh. Very nice.” She settled on the couch next to Nick, twisting around to drape her legs over his thighs. He smiled and slipped off her stilettos, making sure to gently place them on the floor. They started to make their way toward him with air smooches but he stared sternly at them until they moved back to where he put them. “How was the game?”

  “28–0. What does that tell you?” Krebs leaned forward and grabbed a taco chip.

  Jazz lifted her head as she heard bumping sounds upstairs. She had a pretty good idea where they were coming from. “Did Fluff and Puff behave and not come back?”

  “What do you think?” Krebs said. “But it was only once. I think they were afraid of Nick.”

  She shot back more wine. “Obviously the standard spells aren’t holding them in the cage well enough. I’ll strengthen them tonight.”

  She sighed as Nick’s hands kneaded her feet, rubbing the tension out of her limbs. “This is good. Don’t stop. Maybe I’ll have a good night’s sleep.”

  Nick’s massage paused at her words. “Are you still having bad dreams?”

  She wiggled her toes to tempt him into continuing. “It happens.”

  “Not for you.”

  �
��Says the man who can sleep like the dead.” She pushed herself up and swung her legs around to rest her feet on the floor. She reached across Nick and picked up her shoes. “It’s been a long day. I’m for a hot bath and bed.” She didn’t look at him as she left the family room.

  “Don’t forget we have that meeting with Mrs. Archer tomorrow night,” Nick called after her.

  “I’ll be there.” Her voice drifted back.

  Krebs raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Nick. “Is it me or was there an ‘I’m off to bed and don’t follow me’ added in there? I admit there’s been mornings she’s admitted she hasn’t slept well.”

  Nick didn’t look pleased by her words. “Dreams have meaning,” he said slowly. “Some good. Some not. And with some there are reasons that have nothing to do with bad food.” He tipped his beer bottle upward and finished the contents then stood up. “I guess I should get going. Thanks for having me over.” He held his hand out to Krebs who accepted it.

  When Nick reached the sidewalk he looked up to the third floor where a few lights gleamed behind the blinds. He could hear the angry chatter of the slippers and soft cooing sounds probably coming from her new shoes. He turned away and headed up the street.

  On his way back to his apartment, he thought of Jazz and her nightmares. Especially the one where she was convinced he had torn her throat out. He’d put it down to nothing more than a bad dream. But she’d mentioned in an off-handed manner that there had been bad dreams since then. Now he wondered if they were connected.

  And if that was the case, then it had nothing to do with bad food or even watching a scary movie, although it was doubtful there was a scary movie made that would freak out Jazz. No, whatever caused her nightmares had more to do with magick.

  ***

  “Do you never pick up your phone?” Jazz sauntered into Krebs’s work area, a coffee cup in one hand and a custard-filled donut in the other. With her hair tied up in a ponytail and wearing a cream-colored lace-trimmed shirt over black leggings, she looked like a ballet dancer. Her bare feet sported bright red nails that matched her fingertips. “Janelle called three times this morning alone!”