Hex Appeal (20 page)

He looked straight ahead and saw what he was looking for. “Blair, great to talk to you, glad you had a safe drive down here, but I've got to go. Let's do lunch.” He switched off the phone in mid-rant and clipped it to his waistband.

The trio of young men lounging by a seedy bar could have been triplets in their baggy jeans and hooded sweatshirts. But it was the middle one that interested Nick. It only took a visit to the crime scene and finding the man's scent, plus the necessary time, to track him down. If there was something Nick prided himself on it was his hunting skills.

“You looking for anything special?” his intended victim asked while the other two melted into the shadows.

Nick smiled, allowing his fangs to show and his eyes glow a deadly red. “I think I've found it.”

***

“Being mortal sucks. I don't like it,” Jazz moaned the words she'd used all day until Krebs retreated to his work with mumbles he not be disturbed for
anything.
Stasi and Blair were this close to running out of patience. “Fluff tried to bite me through the cage bars! The stilettos slid under the bed and refused to come back out. I can't see Irma, although maybe in a way that's a good thing, but it's not the same. And I bet I stepped on the dog, but I couldn't tell.”

“That dog is something else,” Blair muttered. “The hairy monster tried to hump my leg.”

“He's done a lot of that lately.” Jazz sighed. “Not that I know anymore.”

She picked through the box of candy until she found a Bordeaux brown sugar cream and nibbled on it. “I have a zit that's almost as big as my chin. And I gained four pounds in one day!” She plucked at the waistband to her lilac plaid cotton pants then rearranged the hem of her solid lilac fleece hoody over her tummy that she was positive was podding out big time. “There has to be a way to banish this spell before I turn into a balloon!” Her words were garbled from the chocolate mint truffle she next stuffed in her mouth. “And look at this! Nothing. It hasn't glowed once!” She gently stroked the moonstone ring she wore on her right ring finger. The milky blue stone usually glowed a faint ethereal light in response to her touch. Now there wasn't even the faintest of flickers. Her chest rose and fell with the deep heart-rending sigh of the emotionally suffering individual.

“I still say it's some sort of curse.” Stasi looked up. She sat on the floor using the coffee table to hold the books and scrolls she'd checked out of The Library where she'd spent a good part of the day and most of the evening. Even though it was past two a.m., the three women were sprawled in the family room with Stasi reading while Blair and Jazz watched DVDs. Jazz idly leafed through a few spell books she asked Stasi to bring back to her since she knew The Librarian would allow Stasi anything while he would have lent Jazz only grief. She quickly discovered that her new mortal brain couldn't assimilate the magick infused in the paper, however, and she finally shoved the books aside.

“Great, a curse hits the curse eliminator. How ironic.” Jazz started to pick up another chocolate, but Blair snatched the white See's box away. The battle was short-lived when Blair caused the box to disappear into thin air. “Where did you find The Library's realm?”

“It was in the center of a lovely botanical garden that featured a fishpond filled with these gorgeous carp,” Stasi said absently, studying her books. “I'd love to go back and see more of the gardens.”

“Terrific. You get a pretty fishpond. I get an X-rated bookstore or the county dump for an entrance,” Jazz grumbled. “Even more proof how much The Librarian hates me.”

“Maybe if you were nicer to him,” Stasi suggested.

Jazz thought about the notion for a second and just as quickly discarded it. “Nah, he'd just hate me more.” She swiveled around to glare at her friends. “And why didn't you tell me Dweezil called? Not that I really care, but it would be nice to know what's going on in my own house.”

“How did you find out?” Stasi had the deer-trapped-in-the-headlights look.

“Duh! Caller ID.”

“I told him you're sick.”

“I can imagine that went over well.” By now Jazz was just plain depressed. “Since he never gets sick he doesn't believe anyone else does either.”

“I wasn't about to tell him you had become mortal.”

“Oh, no way.” Jazz looked around her for a snack but couldn't find anything within easy reach and she was too lazy to get up and root around the kitchen for something. She decided maybe it was better she taper off since her stomach was feeling a bit wonky after all the chocolate she'd eaten. She might have to ask Krebs for some Alka-Seltzer. “The entire supernatural community would know what happened to me in no time. He's a worse gossip than Minerva.”

The other two witches were very familiar with the tarot card reader based in Capistrano who managed to ferret out closely kept secrets and broadcast them faster than the Internet. No one with something to hide went anywhere near the woman.

“I mentioned you had a very bad rash all over your face due to a spell gone wrong. He said to call him when you get your looks back. That if you looked that bad you wouldn't be of any use to him right now anyway.”

“That's Dweezil. All heart. I bet he won't even spring for a get-well card. Actually, come to think of it, for all I know his kind doesn't even have a heart. You know, if my magick doesn't come back I'll have to find a job and we all know I don't do well with mortal jobs. I don't want to stand in a store entrance greeting people! Or ask someone if they want to upsize their order! I can't do that! I need my life back!” she wailed.

Jazz flopped back down on the couch, hugging one throw pillow against her chest and another stuffed under her head, her tangled hair looking as if it hadn't been brushed all day—which it hadn't—and her bare feet dangling over the side. She hated to look at her feet since her ever-present gold ankle bracelet with the amethyst studded broom charm had vanished. It was bad enough that she required a nasty smelling cream for a zit that she swore was expanding by the second, but when her ankle bracelet abandoned her during her time of need it was downright heartbreaking.

She hated to think what she'd wake up to in the morning.

Blair took up the other side of the couch, but she'd thoughtfully covered her feet with fuzzy socks so her ankle bracelet wasn't visible.

“Is that a rash?” Jazz curled her body upward to peer closely at her bare ankle. She scratched the patch of red scaly skin then scratched harder. “Does anyone know what psoriasis looks like?”

Stasi and Blair exchanged telling looks over Jazz's bent head.

“I wonder if you don't have some kind of odd magickal virus and all we can do is wait for it to work its way out of your system,” Stasi said.

“Then why doesn't Lilibet know there's a virus targeting witches running around? Or am I the lucky witch...non-witch...to get it?” Jazz was well on her way to earning an Oscar nod for her portrayal of the most pitiful witch-turned-mortal in history.

“Did The Librarian have anything to say about all this?” Blair asked as she filed and shaped her nails.

Stasi grimaced. She didn't look at Jazz as she muttered. “Just that it couldn't happen to a better witch.”

Jazz whimpered and buried her face in her hands. “He's not a wizard; he's a nasty troll with an evil sense of humor. He knew some of the spell books you checked out were for me and the only reason he let you take them was because he likes you. If I'd been able to go in there, he would have turned that damned hourglass over and told me I have an hour in a dark, smelly, and moldy alcove with who knows what scurrying around. And now it's only going to get worse for me. Do you know what I saw in the mirror when I was in the bathroom?” She paused for maximum effect before sobbing, “Crows feet! And then I found this!” She held something up between her thumb and forefinger.

Blair leaned over to get a better look. “Is that what I think it is?”

Stasi's mouth dropped. “It can't be. It's not possible.”

“It is exactly what you think it is.” Jazz nodded. “A gray hair!”

“Well, you are seven hundred and—”

“Do not even go there, Stasi!”

“What if we talk to the Witches' High Council,” Stasi suggested. “Eurydice might know of a solution. I can't imagine she would allow this to happen to any of us.”

“She'd probably agree with The Librarian that I deserve this like some horrible punishment. You know what? I'm done. I'm going to bed and if I'm really lucky I'll wake up in the morning and discover all of this was part of my nightmare.” She peeled herself off the couch. “And if I ever get my magick back I'm tracking down that mugger and I'm turning him into a warthog. Then I'll turn him into disgusting slime and pour him into a bucket and ship him to Nick.” She slowly climbed the stairs. “As for fang face Nick Gregory, he sucks big time! I hope he drinks tainted blood that turns him into a hobgoblin! A really ugly foul-smelling hobgoblin that needs to be banished to the Under Earth.” With each ascending step, Jazz's revenge plans turned more gory and bloodthirsty. By the time she reached her room, Nick had been sliced, diced, and stuck in a crematorium. Both Stasi and Blair released sighs of relief when the door closed on Jazz's ranting. They dreaded to think what else she'd come up with.

“I'm not sure which is worse. Jazz as a mortal who's so wretched it's downright scary or her getting her magick back and going on the warpath,” Blair said. “At this rate, no one will be able to live with her.”

“I hate to admit it, but I'll be relieved when we return to Moonstone Lake.” Stasi pulled a scroll toward her and began scanning words written in an archaic language. “None of what happened makes sense, Blair. She has a dream about living a mortal life and then wakes up mortal. While I'd still like to call this a virus, it's just too easy to say that. Plus, if that's the case, then the idea of this happening is frightening. That would mean if it happened to her, it could happen to any of us...”

Blair reached down, sorted through the books, and chose one. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell that rose up as she turned the pages of a book that was easily a thousand years old. “Oh yeah, not a good thing and something Lili definitely needs to be made aware of. Maybe she can come up with a vaccine for it.”

“Only if it does turn out to be a virus and not a spell.”

“Just as Jazz said, a curse against the curse eliminator.” Blair exhaled a deep breath. “But if it's a spell, who cast it against her and why? This isn't some everyday spell your ordinary witch could cast. Something like this is very complicated and it would involve a lot of power. Probably even a wizard's power and possibly even someone's blood to make the spell work right. If that's the case I don't look forward to whoever cast it against her because Jazz won't care how many years are added on to her banishment when she goes looking for payback. She'll turn that person into a microbe that can still see and feel. And that's only if they're lucky.”

Jazz didn't turn on the lights when she went into her bedroom. No way she wanted to see her pitiful self. She knew her ponytail was falling out of the scrunchie she'd haphazardly jammed it in and her hair felt dry with split ends; her clothing was so rumpled it looked as if she'd slept in it for a month; and she was positive the zit on her chin was expanding to the same massive proportions she imagined her body was doing. She was convinced by morning anything was possible. She could even imagine she'd wake up looking and smelling as disgusting as Tyge Foulshadow. Thanks to his dirty deeds at Clive Reeves' mansion where Nick was almost destroyed and she would have ended up the maniac's pet, he had been sanctioned and banished to his world, wherever that was. All she knew was that it wasn't a realm she cared to visit.

She didn't bother brushing her teeth or washing her face. In her frame of mind, she didn't want to look at her disgusting self in the mirror and she didn't care who she might offend with halitosis or gross out with her bad skin. Without even undressing, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

“With my bad luck I'll dream I'm married to Dweezil and we have three million little Dweezils.” She choked on her words.

As she drifted off into a self-induced tortured sleep, breathy words laced with a hint of evil laughter floated through her head.

You're not as invincible as you thought you were, are you, little witch bitch? What a shame I couldn't make your time of mortality last longer, but I hope you enjoyed your adventure. But don't be too complacent, my dear. There's no reason why it can't happen again. And next time your new adventure could last forever.

***

An eardrum-piercing scream from upstairs was their first warning.

Stasi sighed as she poured herself coffee and topped off Blair and Krebs' cups before sitting down at the table. Syrup-drizzled waffles sat in front of each of them. “Oh dear, it's gotten worse.”

“I don't even want to think how much worse it could be.” Blair shuddered.

“You two have it easy. I have to live with her. Unless you want to take her back with you. Maybe it would be a good idea for her to get out of L.A.” Krebs looked ready to bolt from the room.

“Don't even think about it,” Blair warned him, easily guessing his thoughts. “I'm more than ready to make sure you can't leave that chair. And she's not leaving here until this virus or spell or whatever it is is broken.”

Krebs half stood up to make sure Blair hadn't followed through on her threat. Seeing her expression, he dropped back down in his chair and returned to his breakfast.

“I'm back! I'm back!” Jazz raced down the stairs with the speed and noise of a toddler heading for a loaded Christmas tree. She danced into the kitchen with that same type of energy. “Cup to me!” she sang out, giggling when her
Wicked
cup floated toward her. She held the cup high in a victory motion while dancing around on her tiptoes showing off a gold anklet with an amethyst-studded gold broom dangling from the chain. Her hair flowed down her back in perfect shiny copper waves and there was no sign of the skin imperfections she suffered from the day before.