50 Ways to Hex Your Lover

by Linda Wisdom

  As she descended the stairs, she heard Billy Joel crooning from the second floor.

  “Wonder who caught his attention now?” she murmured, dancing down the rest of the way and stopping in the kitchen long enough to refill her coffee mug before she went outside. The moment she stepped outside she heard a pounding beat coming from the carriage house. Queen singing We Will Rock You was accompanied by a reedy very off-key voice.

  “Irma’s alive … er, around?” she said with a sense of wonder and hastened her steps.

  When she stepped inside the carriage house, she found Irma standing on the passenger seat swiveling her hips in a way that no woman her age should ever do.

  “Now that’s just nasty.” Jazz stared in horrified fascination.

  When the ghost turned around, Irma opened her eyes and smiled broadly.

  “We did it, Jazz! You found a way for me to leave the car!” she squealed.

  Hip-swinging with squealing was definitely not a good look for Irma. But Jazz would keep that piece of information to herself.

  “You did great, Irma,” she said, smiling back, lifting her coffee mug in a toast. “You were the only one who could have accomplished it.”

  “I still don’t understand how that was possible,” the ghost said.

  “It’s simple. Clive was afraid of the wraiths wandering his grounds because he knew how much they hated him. They were doomed to stay there until his death, but he’d ensured they couldn’t cross the mansion’s threshold to kill him. Because you weren’t one of his victims, you could cross the threshold and be the means to destroy him. You were the last thing he expected and it was perfect.”

  Irma’s grin mirrored Jazz’s. “Then I’m glad I could be of help. Is Nicky all right?” she asked, floating back to her usual seated position. “He looked a little worse for the wear last night. Although, I must say he’s a fine figure of a man.”

  “He’s recovered,” she said, remembering just how well recovered. “And a good day’s rest will finish the job.” She walked over to the chair Nick had sat in the night they watched Arsenic and Old Lace with Irma. “We really couldn’t have done it without you.” She knew it was taking a chance admitting that to the ghost, but she figured Irma deserved the kudos.

  Irma beamed under her praise. “And I left the car too.” Her smile faltered. “Those ghosts killed him, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, they did,” Jazz said gently. While she was too familiar with death, she sensed Irma, even in death, was not familiar with it, especially not violent death. “He deserved it, Irma. He had taken what was left of their existences and he would have continued doing it to others if we hadn’t stopped him.”

  “Oh, I don’t feel guilty he’s dead,” Irma said. “I just wish I hadn’t been sent back here. I think I was ready to move on.” She made a face as she slapped the dashboard with her gloved palm. “So I guess you better get working on a spell to get me out of here permanently.”

  Jazz toyed with the idea of not telling her, but if Irma found out on her own, there would be hell to pay. “Actually, you’re free of the car. You can go anywhere you want.”

  The look on Irma’s face was a true Kodak moment. “Anywhere?”

  Jazz nodded, watching her take in the news.

  “Seriously?”

  Again Jazz nodded.

  “You’re not fooling around like you usually do, are you?”

  Jazz laughed. “No Irma, I’m not fooling around. You can cross over or run amok in Nebraska or whatever you want to do.”

  Irma scrunched her face in thought and then came to a decision.

  “Well, since everyone I know is dead or close to it, I guess I should stay here.” Irma looked around the carriage house. “But can we paint the interior a lovely shade of pink or maybe a soft green? And get some curtains? A lady needs her privacy. And a portable heater is very necessary now. Or perhaps we could fix up that small apartment overhead. You once said there’s only junk stored up there anyway. It wouldn’t be perfect living quarters, but better than what I’ve had for the past fifty years.” She continued prattling on.

  Jazz turned away muttering that some people just couldn’t be content with what they had when she felt her foot sink down. She looked down to find a huge glob of ectoplasmic goo all over her shoe. “What in Fates—”

  Irma froze. “Oh.”

  Jazz turned around. “Oh? What is this?” A faint whimpering sound drew her attention to a shadowy corner of the carriage house. “No. No, no, no, no, no …” She stared in horror as part of the shadow separated from the corner and made its way into the light. She reckoned the figure was the size of a small horse.

  For the first time, Irma looked uncertain as she walked over to the ghostie mastiff and placed her hand on top of its head. “He followed me home after I was returned from the mansion,” she said in a weak voice. “I can keep him, can’t I?”

  Jazz stared at the huge slobbering creature who offered her a lopsided doggy grin, complete with strings of ectoplasmic drool hanging from its muzzle. “Damn. I should have gotten you that canary,” she sighed.

  Epilogue

  Jazz didn’t need to look at caller ID to know Nick was on the line. Sunset had occurred thirty seconds ago.

  “Come on, Nick, we’ve saved the vampire race. What’s next? Saving the world?” she asked, the minute she picked up the phone. “I even had it easy this time around. I only had to deal with the sheriff’s department twice during all this, and I didn’t have to see what one of the county cells looked like. Although Detective Larkin has already called three times today, so I think we’re going to have to go down there and make a statement just to keep him on my side.”

  “I think we can wait on the saving the world bit for a day or so. Same thing with Detective Larkin.” He chuckled. “No, I had something else in mind.”

  “Oh really?” She started thinking about a repeat of the previous night sans Clive Reeves, the dungeon, fire, and so on. Although, a naked Nick stretched out on an altar wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe with some silk scarves instead of the chains, central heat instead of cold dank air, and some warm scented massage oil to add to the experience. Yeah, that she could do. She was so lost in her lascivious thoughts that she almost missed his next words.

  “Jazz Tremaine, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?”

  Her jaw literally dropped. “Huh?”

  His chuckle was warm in her ear. “You really need to do something about your communication skills. Yes, dinner. I will pick you up at your house, take you out to a nice restaurant, and I don’t want to hear any arguments from you that I can’t eat solid food while you can. Then perhaps we can go somewhere to hear some music or go dancing.”

  Jazz swallowed. “That, uh, that sounds like a date,” she ventured, wanting to make sure she wasn’t imagining his words.

  “It does, doesn’t it? And do you know that’s something we’ve never done in all the time we’ve known each other? I would like to take you on a date, Jazz.”

  Witches and vampires didn’t date. She and Nick, especially, did not go out on dates. They fought, they made love, and then fought some more. She threatened to behead or stake him. He called her crazy and vowed he’d go to the other end of the earth to stay away from her. Then they parted for ten or twenty years.

  But the idea of going out on an actual date was appealing. To wear something sexy, go all girly-girl, and share a truly romantic evening with Nick was downright appealing.

  She pretty much had her life back. As she predicted, Dweezil had screamed about the damaged limo, but she reminded him his insurance would cover the repairs. There were calls on her voice mail asking for her services as a curse eliminator. She wouldn’t be dealing with the Witches’ High Council for another hundred years as long as she stayed out of trouble. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  And Nick wanted to take her out on a date like they were two ordinary people. Except he was a night person on a liquid diet and
she could turn people into frogs and no amount of kissing would turn them into any form of a prince.

  But for one night they could pretend they were … well, real people.

  “I would very much like to go out to dinner with you tonight, Nick Gregory,” she said formally. Then she grinned as her true nature kicked in. “But you might want to be aware of one thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t put out on the first date.”

  Acknowledgments

  The road to creating and ultimately finishing Hex has been wild and fun. And I couldn’t have done it without the help and support of some fantastic people.

  My husband, Bob, who understands that I “hear” voices in my head. My mom, Thelma Randall, who always told me I could do it.

  My agent, Laurie McLean of the Larsen/Pomada Literary Agency, aka, Batgirl, who has totally gone way beyond the call of duty. I wanted to write outside of my comfort zone. She made sure I not only wrote outside my comfort zone, I pretty much demolished it. Thanks, Batgirl, I love ya for that.

  My editor, Deb Werksman, who read Jazz and loved her as much as I do. If I ever find a pair of bunny slippers like Fluff and Puff, they are yours!

  Thanks to my beta readers, awesome authors in their own right, Elaine Charton, Lisa Croll Di Dio (who gave me a great line about holy water), Lynda K. Scott, Lynne Michaels, and Terese Daly Ramin who kept me on track many a time.

  To Lisa again and Yasmine Galenorn for making sure all my witchy stuff was right. And for Yasmine screaming at me in an email, “Take your finger off the delete key!”

  The Witchy Chicks, Yasmine Galenorn, Terese Daly Ramin, Lisa Croll Di Dio, Madelyn Alt, Candace Havens, Kate Austin, and Annette Blair. Your support is much appreciated.

  Jazz, Nick, Irma, Fluff and Puff, and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts—whether they beat or not.

  About the Author

  Linda Wisdom was born and raised in Huntington Beach, California. She majored in journalism in college and then switched to fashion merchandising when she was told there was no future for her in fiction writing. She held a variety of positions ranging from retail sales to executive secretary in advertising and office manager for a personnel agency.

  Her writing career began when she sold her first two novels to Silhouette Romance on her wedding anniversary in 1979. Since then she has sold more than seventy novels and one novella to four different publishers. Her books have appeared on various romance and mass market bestseller lists and have been nominated for a number of Romantic Times awards as well as the Romance Writers of America Rita Award.

  She lives with her husband, two dogs, two parrots, and a tortoise in Murrieta, California.

  When Linda first moved to Murrieta there were three romance writers living in the town. At this time, there is just Linda. So far, the police have not suspected her of any wrongdoing.