Hex Appeal (12 page)

“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!”

“Damn,” Krebs muttered. “What did you tell her?”

“That you were involved in a project that was taking more time than you estimated. I don't like to lie, Krebs.” She stuffed her donut in her mouth and used that hand to thump the back of his head leaving behind a smidge of chocolate frosting.

“Ow!” His hand flew up to defend himself. He looked at his fingers then licked them clean of the frosting. “I haven't figured out yet how to let her down gently.”

“I think she's already realized that because she said, and I quote, ‘tell that scum-sucking bastard he can just melt in a lake of acid,'” Jazz said. “Along with some other insults I didn't quite catch, but I think had something to do with cutting something off and feeding it to her goldfish. She hung up before I could grab a pen and ask her to repeat them.”

“Maybe I should send her flowers.”

“I think the only flowers she'd want to see are the ones adorning your casket.” She frowned at the splash of color by his computer. “What are these?” She picked up the colorful glossy brochures.

He hunched down in his chair. “Nothing important. Just something I picked up.”

“Uh huh, you just happened to walk by
three
different boat brokers and they pushed these brochures on you.” She fanned them out and shook them under his nose. He batted them away impatiently. “I can't believe this, Krebs! You're thinking of buying a boat? Why would you do that? I get seasick just looking at the radio-controlled models in the pond in the park. Crossing the Atlantic from England was a nightmare for me! And we're talking a voyage that lasted months!”

“You know I like going out on the water and renting a boat gets expensive. Plus I could use it for entertaining clients,” Krebs mumbled, still refusing to look at her.

“Clients? Most businessmen schmooze with their clients out on the golf course. Oh wait, that's right! They can't go out in the sun! Krebs, half of your client base can't go out after dark and many of those have an inordinate fear of water. And no way you should be dealing with them face to face. Don't you think a pool would be better for your human clients? At home entertaining is quite the thing. Something nice and cozy?” She pulled herself up to sit on the table, swinging her legs back and forth. “Weekend barbecues with the neighbors. Romantic evenings out by the pool, although I hope you'd only do that when I'm not around. And I strongly suggest you don't ask Janelle over. She'd probably try to drown you.”

“Get off the table and no, a pool would
not
be better. If you want to swim, the beach is only a few blocks away. Go with me when I go surfing and you can swim all you want.”

“You go surfing at dawn! Thank you so much,
not!
And I burn easily so I'd burn even more out on a boat along with getting seasick before you even left the dock. Plus I'd have to use so much sunblock I'd slide right out of my bikini.”

“And I'd complain about that?”

“Mind out of the gutter, Krebsie.” She snapped her fingers in front of him. “Back to putting in a pool, which would be so much nicer. Even relaxing. Especially if you include a spa in the deal. Maybe one of those rock waterfall spas or a pretty lit fountain in the middle of the pool? You've wanted to upgrade the backyard after the you put in the new patio last year, so why not upgrade to a pool? ”

He frowned at her. “And you'd contribute to it?”

“I paid my share of the patio costs.”

“Yeah, after I threatened to make you a witchy star on
Judge Judy,
” he reminded her.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Like you would have done that.”

“But you didn't want to push me into it, did you? Plus what exactly would you contribute to this pool other than pushing Mr. Hickman into cardiac arrest if he looks over the fence and sees you out there in a bikini?”

She tapped her chin with her forefinger in thought. “Oh...my rubber duckies. They'd have all that open space to swim in instead of my tub and they'd love to be out there in the sun.”

“Do you mean they're re...?” A panicked look washed over his face. He waved his hands in front of him. “You know what? I don't want to know.”

“Could you honestly expect anything that Blair gave me not have a speck of magick in them? Besides, they're harmless. They like to hang out by the tub.” Jazz returned to perch on the table, but further down. “Even with the new patio we still have more than enough yard for a pool and spa and plenty of grass left over. Less for you to mow since you don't want a gardener.”

“I like the exercise. Plus, I've always wanted a boat,” Krebs confessed. “My family spent a lot of time out on the water when I was a kid and I miss that.”

Jazz knew that Krebs and his upper-crust, very socially conscious family had parted company when he wouldn't attend Harvard and join the family business. After a time partying in the rock 'n' roll scene, Krebs found his niche in computer Web site design where his unique style caught the attention of the preternatural community. He hadn't lacked for work since.

“A pool would be cheaper than a boat, would add to the value of the house, and you wouldn't have to find a boat slip,” Jazz said, coming up with what she hoped were her best arguments.

“I can have a day out with my buddies, drinking beer and doing some fishing.”

Jazz slid off the table. “Boat salesmen are like car salesman. Remember what happened when you bought the Porsche? You had to call me to get you out of there because you felt trapped. If you've got a boat salesman working on you getting that bigger and better boat, I might not come to your rescue,” she warned.

“I didn't feel trapped by that Porsche salesman. He was just talking about add-ons I didn't need!” he called after her.

“Wuss!”

“I wasn't the one who gave him that cold sore!” He returned to the computer code scrolling down his screen. “And she calls me nuts.”

“I heard that! Next time you're trapped by a Porsche salesman you're on your own!”

The sun felt warm on his skin, providing a comforting heat he hadn't felt in centuries. While he could go outside during the day when the sky was overcast, he couldn't be out when the sun was this intense. How was it possible for him to stand outside in the bright light of day without bursting into flame?

He took stock of his surroundings and felt even more confused.

If he didn't know better he'd swear he was standing in the middle of the street in a suburban neighborhood complete with little white fences around lush green
lawns, SUVs and mini-vans parked in driveways, basket-
ball hoops and bicycles littering the yards. While the houses were obviously expensive, they were also abodes for the all-American family.

“If you want a ride to school, Kirk, you need to get here now.” A blond-haired man wearing a navy suit and carrying a briefcase walked out of the house Nick stood in front of. He headed for a gleaming silver BMW parked next to a white minivan. Nick could see a hodgepodge of sports equipment filling the back of the van.

Surfer dude all grown up, Nick thought to himself.

“Hey, you! Didn't you forget something?” A woman wearing a white polo shirt and black jeans hurried out carrying a travel mug. She handed it to him along with a kiss while a boy of about ten ran out and climbed into the passenger seat of the BMW. A little girl who couldn't have been more than three toddled outside and clung to her leg. The woman looked down and laughed, swinging the girl up to settle her on her hip.

Nick stared at the woman feeling as if someone had punched him hard in the heart. Her copper-red hair was cut in a short easy-care style and her moss green eyes showed no hint of makeup. Her delicate features were alive with happiness and love for the man she faced. Nick was used to seeing magick sprinkling around her; now he saw nothing but a sunny aura that smacked of mortality.

Witchy Jazz had turned into a soccer mom.

She's happy
,
a voice whispered in his ear.
She doesn't need her magick and she doesn't need you.

“No.” His body shook with sorrow. “No!” He reached out, wanting to pull her away from the man who had one arm around her. “Jazz! Jazz!” But she didn't hear him as she and her husband shared a passionate kiss and their son yelled, “Gross!” and made gagging noises.

“No!” Nick literally flew out of his bed, falling against the chest of drawers. He still felt the pain in the vicinity of his heart as he pulled himself to his feet and clung to the wooden top.

Images were seared on his mind's eye. Jazz looked happier than he'd ever seen her before and the love she showed the man who was obviously her husband shimmered all around them.

She had a normal life. A life without magick. A life without him.

If Nick's heart still beat, it would have ached with a pain that could tear through his entire body.

When he made his way back to his bed, all he heard was the seductive voice whispering in his ear that Jazz was in a life that didn't include him.

The thought was the stuff made of nightmares.

***

Nick still felt unsettled when he picked up Jazz that evening.

“Wow, if I didn't know better I'd say you didn't sleep well.” She peered closely at his face as she settled in the passenger seat of his Jeep Wrangler.

“It's been a busy time.”

“How is this meeting going to be handled?”

“I'm picking up Mrs. Archer then we head to the Full Moon. The pack leader is letting us use the meeting room in the back.”

Jazz wrinkled her nose at the mention of the all night café that catered to Weres. Normally, vampires and Weres didn't do well together, but Nick had managed to have a cordial relationship with the pack leader that owned the café and enjoyed using the facility for neutral ground. “If anyone there humps my leg, I'm outta there.”

“I feel sorry for anyone who'd even try.”

He felt her gaze on him and knew she was trying to figure out why he wasn't his usual self. There was no way he'd tell her about his nightmare or how it left him feeling.

The idea that Jazz could have a future without him was unsettling. But he knew it was possible.

Witches and vampires. Never the twain shall meet.

“Please tell me Luger isn't going to be there,” Jazz said. She stuck out her tongue.

“I doubt he'll allow Ronnie to go without him.”

“Ah, trust issues. Have you ever done this before? Hooked up a mortal with their vampire family member?”

He shook his head. “A few have approached me, but I was able to persuade them it wasn't a good idea.”

“Yet Mrs. Archer somehow slid past your power of persuasion.” She drew a deep breath. “She's a mother who wants to see her son again, but she has no clue that he's no longer that person.” She was quiet for a moment. “What about you? Did you want to see your family again after you were turned?”

Nick shook his head. “My parents were told I died in battle. If I had gone to them they would have seen me as a monster and tried to kill me. Flavius explained it was best I go far away and that's what I did.”

Jazz momentarily thought of the time she and her sister witches were banished from the academy and her first thought was to return to her family, but she knew it was impossible. By then, she wasn't the girl her parents had raised, so, frightened and unsure what to do, she and the others made their way into a world they were un-familiar with.

“Some decisions are difficult,” she murmured, looking out the window. She felt the brief cool touch of Nick's hand on her hand and felt the comfort he offered.

It turned out Mrs. Archer lived in a sprawled-out apartment complex geared for retirees. Jazz obligingly climbed into the back, resting against the window with her legs stretched across the seat.

“So my boy will be there?” Mrs. Archer asked, clutching her purse tightly in her hands. Her arthritic knuckles looked white.

“His sire promised me that he would be there.” Nick didn't add that no one went against Luger's wishes without repercussions.

Jazz wondered what Nick promised Luger to agree to the meeting. She knew little of the vampire, but what she knew was that he believed in rage and violence of the first order. She feared the kindly woman would learn a very hard lesson that night.

The Full Moon Café was a '50s style diner designed to look like a train's dining car. While it looked appealing, for some reason humans were prone not to stop there while the Weres enjoyed the hearty fare served 24/7. Jazz popped in now and then since they brewed a mean cup of coffee.

Coby, the pack leader, stood behind the counter looking at the newcomers with a black flat stare that was off-putting at best. At about five-foot-seven, he had the wiry strength that was even more pronounced when he was his furry self. Jazz figured his salt-and-pepper hair was an echo of what color he'd be like during the full moon. Four Weres occupied stools at the counter while the booths remained empty. The four didn't bother looking their way, but there was no doubt they knew exactly what had just walked in. Jazz wondered if they were here for backup in case something happened, and if that was the case, she'd be grabbing Mrs. Archer and diving under the nearest table.

“Coby.” Nick nodded his head in greeting. “They here yet?”

Coby shook his head. “Luger just called and said they'd be here in about five minutes.” He stared at Jazz. “I suppose you want coffee?”

“Yes please.” She put on her bright polite smile. She knew since she stood on neutral ground her spells were forbidden, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be ready in case something happened. Sometimes a witch's gotta do what she's gotta do. And Jazz liked remaining in one piece a lot more than following rules. Witch blood didn't bother Weres the way it bothered vampires, so she was fair game. But she also knew Coby was tough on his pack and anyone who disobeyed his rules was dealt with in a less than pleasurable manner.

Coby picked up a large mug and filled it with a dark brew. He glanced at Nick and Mrs. Archer. The former nodded and the latter looked uncertain.

“Would you prefer tea, ma'am?” Coby asked in a voice that was almost gentle.

“Yes, thank you.” Her reply was barely a whisper.

“If you want to go on to the back room, I'll bring them in.” Coby pulled out a couple more mugs.

“Thanks.” Nick guided Mrs. Archer toward the rear of the diner.

“He's very polite,” she whispered to Nick, unaware she was easily heard by preternatural hearing.

Jazz noticed that Coby watched the woman with what she felt was sorrow.

“She's going to regret tonight,” he muttered, pouring coffee into another mug and fixing up tea the British way by warming the mug before pouring more hot water and adding a tea bag.

Jazz sipped her coffee, grateful for the caffeine jolt to her system. “I think she knows that, but she still intends to go through with it.”

Coby shook his head. “My old lady kicked me out my first full moon. Seems she couldn't handle it.” He looked as if he wished he hadn't made the confession. He shook it off. “Maybe you should introduce Nick's client to your ghost. The lady looks like she grew up in the 1950s.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, well.” He placed the mugs on a tray along with a small container of sugar and another with lemon wedges. Before he picked it up, he topped off Jazz's mug from the coffee pot. “You wanna take this in with you?”

“Sure.” She figured he didn't want to face the hopeful mother again. She picked up the tray then paused. “Do you know Willie who works at the boardwalk?”

“Ferris wheel? Some. He's come in here a few times.” Coby's expression told her he didn't think much of Wereweasels. “That's right. Your magickal bunny slippers were accused of eating him.”

“They didn't do it!” She was getting damned tired of defending her slippers, but she knew if she didn't, no one would.

He shrugged. “No fur off my nose if they did. His kind isn't what you like to be around too much, but I guess Willie did okay working for Rex. At least he stayed out of trouble.”

“If someone mentions seeing him would you give me a call?” She conjured up a business card and placed it on the counter.

“No guarantee that will happen, but if I hear of something I'll let you know.” He picked up the card and slipped it in his shirt pocket.

Jazz carried the tray to the back room where she found Nick and Mrs. Archer seated across from each other at a small table. Nick spoke softly and she guessed he was explaining how the meeting would be handled.

“Here we go,” Jazz said brightly as if she was the hostess entertaining guests. She handed Nick his coffee and set out the tea for Mrs. Archer.

“I didn't realize...” Mrs. Archer stared at Nick's mug.

“Coffee seems to be something we can't give up.” Nick smiled.

“They're here.” Coby looked in the open doorway then walked away.

Nick stood up and walked around to stand by the elderly woman, resting one hand on her shoulder. Her expression was hopeful.

Jazz stood to her other side.

The first man to appear was well over six feet, dressed in a black suit and tie. White-blond hair flowed down to his shoulders, highlighting white skin that hadn't seen the light of day in centuries and eyes so blue they almost blazed a cold fire.

“Nikolai.” He inclined his head in a polite greeting.

“Luger.”

“My boy?” Mrs. Archer started to stand, but Nick's hand kept her seated. She silently implored him.

Luger stared first at Mrs. Archer then at Jazz, who remained stone-faced, and finally turned his gaze to Nick.

“I thank you for agreeing to this meeting,” Nick said formally.

“It is not a good idea.”

Nick said nothing since he agreed.

Luger stepped aside to reveal a slightly built man who would never stop being in his early twenties.

Jazz easily sensed the lack of humanity in the elder vampire. It was the same with the younger one. She knew the elderly woman would see only the boy she raised.

“Ronnie?” Mrs. Archer's voice was hushed, expectant. Her face shone with joy. She held out her arms, but he didn't go near her.

“Mom, you shouldn't have tried to find me.” He sounded weary.

“I had to know you were all right.” Her smile wavered then disappeared.

“I'm fine, so please go.”

“But...”

He shook his head, slashing his hand through the air. “I'm not the same, Mom! You're better off thinking of me as dead.”

“You're not dead!” She stood up, this time Nick not bothering to restrain her. “You are my son.”

He continued to shake his head, still keeping his distance.

Jazz felt the pain in the other woman's heart; the sorrow that overwhelmed her that her baby boy was no more.

“Please, Mom, you've seen me, so will you go and not bother me again?” Ronnie asked.

Mrs. Archer drew a deep breath. “Are you happy?” She whispered it as if she was afraid of the answer but compelled to ask anyway.

Ronnie looked at Luger then glanced away. “This is my existence now.” For a second his eyes glowed red and his fangs dropped, but she didn't shy away.

Luger gave a crisp nod.

Ronnie ventured toward his mother, his movements stiff and uncertain while Mrs. Archer stepped forward with outstretched arms. Nick remained on high alert.

The top of the woman's head reached Ronnie's chest as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Jazz wasn't sure what caught her attention first but she knew that Nick and Luger also felt that something was very wrong.

“I will always love you,” Mrs. Archer said.