Hex Appeal (13 page)

Just that quickly, Ronnie hissed, his eyes turning red again, but nothing more. He reared back, a look of horror on his face, before his body turned to dust and drifted to the ground. Mrs. Archer stood there, a wooden stake gripped tightly in one hand. She looked down at the dust with grief shadowing her eyes.

Nick's body was a blur as he moved to protect her.

Luger also stared at the pile of dust that had once been one of his younger vampires but made no move to retaliate.

“I had to save him,” Mrs. Archer whispered, lifting her head to gaze at Luger. “He was already dead and I needed to know he wouldn't be out there hurting people.”

“She is under my protection,” Nick declared.

Luger chuckled. “You are brave, madam. If anyone else but you had done this deed, they would have been dead before they could blink. I will miss Ronald, but I will not strike back. Sometimes a mother has rights a sire does not.” He was a dark blur then the doorway was empty.

Nick helped Mrs. Archer to her chair and urged her to take a sip of her tea. Her hands shook so badly he had to hold the cup for her.

“I couldn't let him be the way he was. I know he was a good boy, but when I saw him, I saw that his soul was truly gone,” she murmured, dropping the stake to the floor. “That's when I knew I had to do it. I read what to do in a book.”

Jazz edged her way to the open doorway where Coby stood near the counter. The other Weres watched her with shadowed eyes. She flashed them a slight smile.

“Um, does anyone have a Dust Buster out there?”

Guessing why she was asking for one, Coby sighed and turned to the waitress. “Get out the Dirt Devil. But you,” he turned back to Jazz, “have to clean up your own mess.”

“Just because witches have brooms doesn't mean we use them for that particular purpose,” she muttered, accepting the handheld vacuum.

A half-hour later, Mrs. Archer was back in her apartment and after assuring she was all right, Jazz and Nick left.

“She's stronger than she looks,” Jazz said, settling in the passenger seat.

Nick rested his hands against the steering wheel but didn't bother to switch on the ignition.

She turned and looked at him. “You knew she was going to destroy him, didn't you?”

He nodded. “I guessed it.”

“But why kill her son?”

He continued to stare out through the windshield. “Because he was her only son and was as lost to her as the husband who'd died years ago. She wanted to properly mourn him, not think of him out there looking for prey. She wanted to save him since he would never again have a normal life.” His lips momentarily twisted into a grim smile.

“Nick?” She leaned over, covering his hand with hers, gently stroking his fingers, and lending him her warmth. “What's wrong? There's more to it than what you're saying.”

He wouldn't look at her as he slid his hand away and reached for the key in the ignition.

“Just that Luger was right. She is a very brave woman.” He put the Jeep into gear and drove out of the parking lot. He was silent all the way back to Jazz's house, but before she climbed out of the vehicle, he leaned over and gave her a kiss that was rich with hunger. Before she could invite him inside, he pulled away and drove off the second she was out of the Jeep.

***

“I'm sorry, Esme, but I honestly don't see how I can help you,” Nick told his newest client. And how he hated saying that to someone who could clearly pay his fees. Business had been slow lately. Not that the bank cared about that when his mortgage payment was due. While the Protectorate had wanted to pay off his mortgage as payment for his assistance in destroying Clive Reeves, he turned down the generous offer that he knew would have held too many strings. He preferred to remain independent of the vampire organization that he knew was going through a great many shakeups after Reeves destroyed Nick's sire and mentor, Flavius. Nick's sire had been a ruling force in the group and now his spot was open to many. Nick knew no one could fill Flavius's seat. He feared whoever took it would not have the strength to do what was right.

Nick was used to the fact that not too many of his clients could pay his usual fees. The woman facing him, however, could pay his rates ten times over.

“Surely, there is a way you can help me. I need to see my daughter. I want to know she's truly safe.” She looked distressed.

Nick studied the vampire facing him. She was well dressed, wore expensive jewelry, and was well-fed judging by the healthy tint to her skin—although he knew more vampires were going the spray tan route nowadays. She shifted in her chair, sending out a seductive cloud of perfume that he was positive Jazz would recognize. His hexy witch was well versed in all the female stuff that eluded the male mind. He sent out a small wave of power, trying to guess Esme's age, but for some reason wasn't able to gauge her actual age. He wondered why she felt the need to shield herself. He had a feeling if he wanted to know the truth, he'd need some help. Luckily, he knew just who to contact.

“When our kind is turned and leave behind human family members, we must literally leave them behind.”

“I know that, but I want to see her for myself. Know that she's well,” she said angrily. “They keep her locked up in that house like a prisoner, so there's no chance of my even getting a glimpse of her.”

Nick nodded. “Let me talk to someone who might have a few ideas,” he said as he reached for the phone. One ring later he heard a familiar voice. “Hey.” His tone softened and then grew crisp when he noticed Esme's interest. “I have a client in my office who has a problem that you might be able to help out with. Any chance you can come over and talk with her?” He chuckled. “Sure, usual payment.” He hung up. “My colleague will be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“She?”

He nodded but volunteered nothing else. He'd sensed the female's interest in him the moment she stepped inside the office. He was positive if he'd returned that interest, his desk would have been instantly cleared of everything but their two bodies. Maybe it happened in books and movies, but he didn't consider it a good professional move for a private investigator, even a vampire one. And especially for one hooked up with a witch who could conjure up witchflame with a snap of her fingers.

Luckily, it wasn't long before he felt the shift in energy that meant Jazz was on the boardwalk. Not too long after he heard the faint whir of the old-fashioned cage elevator grind to a stop on his floor.

“You know, while you might be a total night person, I'm not.” A whirlwind called Jazz swept into his office with a Venti Starbucks
cup in her hand. She stopped short at the sight of the beautiful vampire seated in the client chair. Her narrowed gaze rose to meet Nick's amused one. “And I'm here because?”

“Jazz, this is Esme. Esme, Jazz Tremaine.”

Esme's lovely features tightened and her fangs dropped. “A witch!” she spat out the word like a curse.

“Wow, you figured that out all by yourself?” Jazz sipped her drink. She was used to vampires hating her. Not that she understood it, since she was such a cute and cuddly witch.

“Ladies,” Nick hastily intervened. He didn't want to think how this would go if either one got out of hand. There wasn't enough space for him to take cover. “Jazz, why don't you have a seat?” He glanced at a chair set nearby, but she promptly hopped up onto a corner of his desk, her legs swinging loosely. He should have known better.

“So, Esme, what's your problem?” Jazz asked, continuing to sip her drink.

The vampire took a moment before she replied. “I have a daughter that is taken care of by my family. I've always made sure she is provided for as long as I have access to see her, but now they take my money and refuse to allow me to enter the premises. They've had the grounds warded to bar me entry.”

“The way I understood it, you vamps leave all mortal family behind once you've been turned,” Jazz commented. “That it's safer for you.”

“That's true, but my daughter is very precious to me.”

Jazz looked her over with a sharp gaze that missed little. “In essence, you're dead to her. Why not let her think that? You're going to outlive her anyway.”

The woman's glare was strong enough to cut her to the bone. “Clearly, you aren't a mother.”

“I thought since you have an easier time moving among humans than we do, that you could check out the house and Esme's family for us,” Nick interrupted.

Jazz didn't look away from Esme's face. “Address?”

Esme rattled off a BelAir address that Jazz immediately filed in her memory.

“I'll check it out today and get back to you tonight.” Her smile held a hint of the same toothiness the vampire's did. “Say nine o'clock?”

Esme rose with the innate grace all vampires possessed. The whisper of silk was the only sound as she extended her hand to Nick. “Thank you.” She merely nodded at Jazz and left the office.

Jazz didn't move from her perch, deliberately not saying a word for a few minutes.

“How many lies did she tell you before I showed up?” she asked.

“What makes you think she lied?” Nick settled back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk surface.

She rolled her eyes. “Duh! The woman wouldn't know the truth if it bit her. Plus, she's heavily shielded. She probably has more than one charm on her. I'd say one charm to hide her true age and another one to hide her thoughts. You couldn't read her properly, could you?” She arched an eyebrow in question. She nodded. “Which is the real reason why you called me. Honestly, Nick, couldn't you see past the face and boobs?”

“I never noticed.” But his pious expression didn't fly with her.

“Oh sure.” She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a card. She dropped it in front of him. “I'm making it easy for you. Just a healthy reload, if you please.”

Nick picked up the Starbucks gift card. “Why do I feel as if my idea of a healthy reload and yours is completely different?”

“Then let me make it easy for you.” She leaned over, jotting down numbers on a piece of paper and pushed it toward him.

Nick winced. Thanks to Esme, his bank account would be healthier than it had been in some time, but if he continued paying for Jazz's Starbucks addiction, he'd be broke in no time. “Done.”

“Thank you,” she cooed, hopping off the desk.

“You're not staying?” He eyed her form-fit jeans and body-hugging sweater.

“I just got in from driving a group of drunken gnomes to a bunch of parties. I'm tired, my ears are ringing from crazy gnome jokes, and I reek of gnome ale. I want a shower. You're on your own, lover.” She stopped long enough to stretch across the desk and drop a kiss on his mouth. “I'll check out the address and will be back here before nine.”

“Before Esme shows up,” he deducted correctly.

“She can't be trusted.” She headed for the door.

“Because she's a beautiful woman?”

She looked over her shoulder, her hand resting on the doorknob. “Because she's a liar. I don't like liars.” She blew him a kiss and walked out.

“I wonder if all men have so much trouble with their women,” Nick muttered, turning to his computer and typing in Starbucks' Web site address. He had a gift card to reload and he knew Jazz wouldn't be happy if it wasn't done by the time she showed up that night.

***

“Talk about major real estate,” Jazz muttered, staring at the 1920s Mediterranean-style mansion enclosed by an eight-foot wall with security cameras mounted along the top and the closed gate that had a speaker box attached to one side. She parked back far enough on a side street facing the house that the security cameras wouldn't see her. “Who exactly lives there?” she mused.

“What did Jonathan tell you?” Irma asked from her spot in the passenger seat. “You had him use his computer skills, didn't you?”

“First thing this morning. The property owner's name is hidden under corporate shells.” She tapped the steering wheel with her fingertips.

“So how do you expect to get in?” Irma asked, attempting a nonchalance that didn't work with a 1950s dress, white gloves, and pearls. “Are you going to try one of those spells that makes you look like someone else? Maybe you could pretend to be a maid? I would think a house that size has day help.”

“Yeah, that'll happen,” she muttered. “The last time I was a maid was 1872. Longest day of my life.”

“A day? You could only last one day? I'd hate to see what your room looks like now if you can't keep a cleaning job for one day.”

Jazz waved her hand for silence. “Forget my being a maid.”

“Then what do you plan to do to get past that gate? I heard dogs and it sounded as if they run free on the property,” Irma laughed. “You'll never get inside. Not unless you make yourself invisible, walk through that wall, and escape the dogs. What if you send the dog in there? He might be able to distract them long enough for you to sneak in.”

“Right, like a ghost dog would attract their attention.” Jazz clicked her nail against her teeth as she studied the elaborate dwelling a bit longer. Her smile brightened up as she turned to Irma. “Fine. You said you want to help me and
you can
walk through walls.”

“Uh.” Irma's gaze shifted from Jazz's smiling face to the house. “How do I know you won't drive off and leave me there?”

“Easy.” Jazz grimaced and shoved at the ghostly furry head resting on her shoulder. “He's going with you and, as you suggested, distract the dogs in there.” She tried pushing the massive head away, but he wasn't moving. The lack of a backseat didn't matter to a ghost dog. “Euww!” She gagged as she felt the chilled rush of dog tongue across her face.

“He likes you.” Irma beamed, a proud ghost doggy mom.