50 Ways to Hex Your Lover

by Linda Wisdom

  “My timing? My timing was perfect!” He shouted after her.

  She momentarily closed her eyes. “Do us both a favor and think with your other brain, Gregorivich.” She pushed the door open and walked out.

  Nick growled under his breath then reared back when he realized he’d bent the bars on the iron grille. By the time he had straightened the bars and gotten out of the elevator he knew she was absent from the boardwalk.

  He was also angry enough to do just what she didn’t want done. He went back up to his office and called Flavius.

  “We need to meet,” he told his sire.

  “You’ve learned something?”

  “I’m not sure it will help, since it’s more a puzzle or riddle than an answer, but it’s a start.” They arranged to meet in an hour, which gave Nick enough time to shower and change his clothes. While he would have preferred having Jazz’s scent on his clothing and skin for the next few hours, he knew it wouldn’t be as welcome where he was going.

  Jazz was angry that Nick could go so swiftly from passionate lover to cop.

  “Would it have hurt him to just forget about that damn monster for a few hours more? The man has no sense of romance,” she muttered to herself as she checked her voice mail. She didn’t expect an apology from Nick, but it would have made things easier. She winced at the screeching voice.

  “Where the fuck are you? Call me as soon as you get this.”

  While Dweezil’s frantic call for help wasn’t appreciated, it accomplished one thing. It took Jazz’s mind off what happened on the rooftop of Nick’s office building and what the vampire did to ruin the mood.

  What surprised her was Dweezil’s choice of meeting place.

  “I’m staying out of the office until things cool down,” he told her when she called him back. “I’ll be at Klub Konfuzion. Meet me there at eleven.”

  “Klub Konfuzion? It’s bad enough I drive clients there! Why would I want to go there of my own free will?”

  “Because no one will expect me there. Eleven, Jazz.”

  “I’m on the clock then,” she snarled, but she said it to dead air.

  Jazz looked at her rumpled appearance. Perky lemon-scented witch with an overlying vamp scent wasn’t a good idea in a club where basic black, blood on tap, and fangs reigned.

  She was running late by the time she showered, yet again, and changed into something more befitting when visiting the ultimate Goth club.

  Once changed, she studied herself in the full-length mirror.

  “It’s like I’ve gone from Donna Reed to Kate Beckinsale in Underworld,” she muttered, smoothing the front of her new leather bustier. “Even if I can’t breathe.”

  Jazz topped her outfit with a black leather coat that brushed the top of her stiletto-heeled boots and headed for the carriage house.

  “My land, are you going to a costume party?” Irma asked once she got a look at Goth Witch Chick Jazz.

  In defiance of the typical black dress code, Jazz wore a deep purple leather bustier tucked into a black leather micro-mini that barely covered the essentials, which was a purple thong panty. Her thigh high fishnet hose were held up with black silk garters adorned with purple ribbons. One garter held her cell phone, the other her lipstick. All the essentials a witch would need when out clubbing. All visible skin shone with gold glitter, her eye makeup smoky and lips a deep red. She had pulled her hair up into a tight knot and dusted it with the same glitter. In many places, she would be arrested for the outfit she wore. Where she was going, it was a guarantee she’d be hit on at the very least.

  “You complain I don’t take you out,” she said, climbing into the car in a cloud of Michael Kors and settled behind the steering wheel. “Well, tonight we are going clubbing. At least, I am.”

  “I can’t believe you’re seeing the alcoholic dressed like that.”

  Jazz felt a pang at realizing she hadn’t stopped by Murphy’s Pub since the night Nick came back into her life. She knew tonight wouldn’t be a good idea. Murphy would definitely not understand her style of dress.

  “No, we’re not going there.”

  During the entire trip, Irma questioned Jazz about their destination, but Jazz refused to give it up.

  “What is that smell?” Irma screwed up her face as Jazz pulled the car into the club’s parking lot and parked it under a vapor lamp that glowed a strange dark green instead of the usual orange. She stared at the obscene graffiti decorating all the warehouse buildings except for Klub Konfuzion. The only decoration on that building was what the owner wanted there. Music from the club filtered out each time the door opened.

  “Dead fish, the ocean, and whatever bodies the police haven’t found yet.” Jazz climbed out of the car and triple-boosted her wards on the vehicle.

  Irma shook her head. “The last time I saw a woman wearing something like that was on one of those cable programs, and she was up to no good.”

  “Same here.”

  “How long will you be in that place of debauchery?” Irma called after her. A hint of fear colored her voice.

  Jazz turned around and walked back to the car. She rested her hands on the metal, bending down so Irma could look into her eyes. “Nothing will happen to you,” she said quietly. “No one, absolutely no one, will come within twenty feet of this car. I have made very sure of that. Believe me that if anyone tries they will get a very nasty surprise they won’t soon forget.”

  Irma studied her for several minutes. Satisfied with her statement, she slowly nodded. “Is there a chance you could bring me a Brandy Alexander or perhaps a Pink Squirrel?” she asked.

  “I doubt they serve either drink, but who knows.” Considering Irma’s unease about being left alone here, she didn’t want to remind her there was no way she’d allow any drink inside Irma that would ultimately end up on the seat. Jazz straightened up and started for the club.

  So much had happened since the last time Jazz had driven Tyge Foulshadow to Klub Konfuzion that she felt as if it had been centuries instead of a couple of weeks.

  Jazz flashed a sexy smile at the eight-foot mass of muscle at the door and was instantly admitted even if a growl followed her steps. Witches weren’t popular in the club, but money-hungry vampires never turned away a paying customer.

  The black and red décor fit everyone’s idea of a predominantly vampire club. Jazz knew many considered it sexy. She thought it looked more like a dominatrix paradise.

  She winced as what passed for music assaulted her ears until they felt ready to bleed. She conjured up a pair of dark glasses to shield her eyes from the pulsating lights overhead. She wondered how the vampires, with their enhanced sight and sound, managed to stay in here without their heads exploding. She’d barely stepped inside and she was ready to leave.

  Knowing she would need something to numb the pain, Jazz wasted no time in heading for the bar.

  “JD, straight up,” she ordered.

  The bartender peered closely at her. “Anything else to go with it?”

  She lowered the dark glasses just enough to reveal eyes that didn’t show a hint of red. “Just the JD.” The last thing she wanted was a Type O chaser.

  With her drink in hand, Jazz prowled the perimeter of the club, nodding at a few she knew, glaring at men who wanted to get to know her better, and looking for Dweezil. Her frustration level rose the longer she didn’t see him. The club, with its techno rock music, gyrating dancers, and young women looking for a one night hook-up, wasn’t her idea of fun, and she wanted out of there as fast as possible.

  As she looked over the dance floor, her gaze moved past then shifted back again. What she saw was enough to make her grind her teeth down to nubs.

  “Oh for Fate’s sake,” she sighed, stalking toward the edge of the dance floor until she reached a petite blonde wearing a black velvet dress that could double for a napkin talking to a vampire who looked at her as if he planned on making her his late night snack. As if sensing Jazz’s approach, the young woman turned her head,
saw one angry witch bearing down on her, blanched, and took a step to the side. Jazz muttered a few words and the girl literally froze.

  “What part of you can no longer use magick do you not understand?” Jazz growled. She refused to believe her binding spell on the sorority Twinkie hadn’t worked. She’d pushed a lot of power into that spell, damn it!

  She gave the girl credit. She didn’t back off. She tipped up her finely-sculpted chin and glared at her through heavily mascaraed eyes. Jazz wanted to strangle the doorman for letting the girl in since it was obvious she was underage even if she had the other attributes Klub Konfuzion liked: cute, young, and breathing. “I’m an adult. I can do whatever I want. Paris Hilton comes here to party all the time.”

  The girl’s toothy companion hissed a warning at Jazz.

  She rolled her eyes and waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh puleeze, would it hurt you to use some mouthwash? Listerine comes in flavors you know. In fact, why don’t you hunt some down right now? A lot of drugstores are open 24 hours.”

  “And maybe you should leave her alone and go on your way,” the young vampire male said, positive she’d immediately back off when he flashed a hint of fang and red eyes.

  Jazz whipped her head to one side and stared him down. She instinctively knew he hadn’t been a member of the high-iron diet for any longer than a year. “Do not mess with me, vampire. You will not win.” She deliberately pushed enough power at him that he was forced to stumble back a step. One more push of power guaranteed he left them with the girl whining his name. She turned her pout on Jazz.

  Jazz turned her ire back on the hapless college girl. “If Paris Hilton was ever stupid enough to step one Jimmy Choo-shod foot inside this club, she would be devoured before she could utter “this is hot.” As for you, you are barely one-third of the way into your nineteenth year.” Her jaw was so tight it was amazing it didn’t break. “Give me your mirror.” She snapped her fingers when the girl didn’t immediately comply. “Now!”

  The girl dug into her miniscule black velvet bag and pulled out a small compact.

  Jazz opened it with the reflective glass facing the girl. “Let me make this totally clear so you can go back to the sorority house and tell the others what happens to stupid girls who try to break one of my binding spells.”

  She knew the moment the girl saw her reflection and what she saw in the mirror—nineteen going on one hundred and nineteen with deep wrinkles, age spots, and a nasty twitch below the right eye, just because Jazz felt like inflicting one on her. She so hated it when people didn’t follow her rules.

  The girl gasped and took off as fast as her four-inch heels could take her.

  “Now you’re scaring children? Man, you really can be a bitch, can’t you?” Dweezil looked over her shoulder. His gaze lingered on her cleavage then slid away before Jazz could witch-slap him.

  Jazz held out her palm, watching the mirrored disc spin in a silvery circle before disappearing. “Good to see you too, D. If I hadn’t found you in the next five seconds I was leaving.”

  Dweezil looked around, started to grasp her arm but her expression had him pulling back. “There’s a booth over there.” He gestured with the hand holding a multi-colored drink that bubbled up to the top of the glass. Jazz had no clue what the contents were and she so did not want to know what comprised something that smelled like gym socks left in a locker for fifty years.

  The last place Jazz wanted to be was in a dark corner with Dweezil, but she also didn’t want to be here at all and she was curious to find out why he had called her in such a panic. She figured the faster she listened to him, the faster she would be out of there.

  “Tick-tock, D. I’m on the clock, remember?” She slid onto the cushioned bench. She glared at his rapt stare centered on her glittery chest.

  “Are you bare-ass naked under that skirt? Why the fuck don’t you wear something that hot when you’re working for me? I could charge triple rates all the time. Maybe more if you would cut holes in that top to show off your tits.”

  She leaned across the table. “Forget the maggots, Dweez. Let’s talk leeches. Guess where they’d head first?”

  He held up his hands as he took the seat on the other side. “Sooorrryy.”

  “Then let’s cut to the chase and you tell me why we had to meet here instead of your office.”

  He looked over his shoulder and leaned across the table to whisper, which wasn’t easy to hear with the music blaring overhead. “Someone’s out to get me.”

  She wrinkled her nose against the burnt almond smell coming off him. The creature was seriously stressed. “And that’s a new thing?”

  If she didn’t know better, she would think his skin had turned an even more putrid shade of green. “I’m serious here, Jazz. I think someone put a curse on me. I need you to take it off and find out who did it.”

  Dweezil acting like a total shit was nothing new. Dweezil acting more than a little crazy, ditto. Dweezil actually begging for help was something new. Jazz sat back and sipped her drink. “Do I look like a Charlie’s Angel, D? I eliminate curses. I’m not some preppy private investigator who backtracks to find the originator.”

  “And without me you don’t have a job except for the shit money you make eliminating curses,” he reminded her. “The cops coming in and taking my records shut me down for a week before my lawyer managed to get them to give it all back. Then all the fuckin’ cops say is there wasn’t anything there. But they’re still watching me. There’s no reason for them to hang around like that without some fucker setting them on me.” He sat back and drew in a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll pay you.”

  Now Jazz was interested. Dweezil literally offering to give up cold hard cash meant he was seriously worried.

  “So where is the curse? Was something in the office cursed?”

  He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Don’t you find that out?”

  “If you’re actually cursed then it could be anything.” She pulled off her dark glasses and stared at him. “I don’t see anything about you that would indicate you were personally cursed, so it has to be something around you. Give me a starting place.”

  Dweezil groaned. “Gotta be the whole fuckin’ building then,” he groused. “Just clean it, okay?”

  “Which includes the garage.”

  “Whatever it takes.” He nodded miserably, picking up his drink.

  She named her price.

  “Fifty!” Dweezil almost choked on his drink. “Fifty-thousand?”

  “Two buildings, a lot of work involved there. Plus I’ll have to go through all the cars. Or,” she waited until she knew she had his full attention, “I take twenty-five and I never have to drive Tyge Foul-shadow ever again.”

  “He only wants you plus you’re the only witch I have driving for me right now,” he argued. “And he pays in gold bars!”

  Jazz waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I don’t care. Take your choice. You can either pay me fifty in cash or pay me twenty-five and I don’t have to drive Foulshadow ever again.” She picked up her drink and sipped the whiskey, enjoying the bite along with the look on Dweezil’s face. There was nothing he hated more than giving up money. She just offered him a choice as to how much he was willing to give up. She doubted someone had cast a curse on him, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She would check out the buildings first in case Dweezil was right and someone had cast a curse on him. Not that the idea didn’t have merit. There had been many a time she was tempted to throw down something nastier than a bad case of maggots and she’d gladly take any punishment given.

  Dweezil picked up his glass and knocked back the last of the foaming contents. If possible, his skin was even greener than before.

  “I’ll have the fifty K for you tomorrow.” He stared at her plumped-up breasts for a moment, realized whatever he thought of saying might not be a good idea and pushed away from the table.

  She should have known he would not give in where Master Foulshadow was concerned.


  “I will be there at nine.”

  Dweezil scowled. “How do you expect me to have the money that early?”

  “It’s called that safe you have in your private bathroom.”

  He muttered a few choice words under his breath and walked away.

  Jazz nursed her drink and watched the dancers. She was tempted to look around for a partner. She loved to dance, but thoughts of Nick soured the idea of prowling the club. Her gaze swung past the dance floor to the bar and across the line of patrons with their own choice of drinks. Some of them drank that special chaser she turned down. She preferred blood running in her veins, she didn’t even want to look at it in a glass much less smell it on someone’s breath.

  She froze and swung her gaze further down the bar to where two men stood resting against it scanning the club’s dance floor.

  Both tall. One man dark-haired, one light. They were dressed in typical vamp fashion of black shirts and snug fitting pants with black leather dusters hanging open. But it was the dark-haired one that snagged her attention. Many of the male vampires preferred shoulder length hair either kept loose or tied back with a leather thong. Usually it was because the older ones grew up in an era where all men sported longer hair. Others did it because they thought it made them look sexy. On Hugh Jackman, yes, but there were still a lot of vamps that couldn’t carry off the look. Nick was one who could carry off either look easily, but he favored shorter hair. He once said something about lice. She inwardly shuddered at the thought.

  As if the object of her thoughts sensed her gaze on him, he turned his head, cocked a brow and raised his glass in a silent toast.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Fifteen

  Bloody hell,” Nick muttered, echoing Jazz’s words.

  Flavius looked over his shoulder. “She looks angry enough to call down thunder.”

  “Been there, done that. Barely escaped the fireball the last time.” Nick straightened up.

  “What are you going to do?” The other vampire’s lips were tipped up in an amused smile.