Hex in High Heels Read online

  Stasi glanced at the friend who was closer to her than blood. “Thinking about Jake again?”

  Blair nodded.

  “Did the kiss help you decide anything?”

  “Definitely, but I’m trying to be subtle.” Blair was convinced the wheels and gears in her brain could easily be heard.

  “Your definition of subtle, or mine?”

  “Sort of a cross between the two.” She dug her hands in her pockets and found a couple of Hershey’s Kisses. She handed one over to Stasi, unwrapped the foil on hers, and popped it into her mouth. Blair firmly believed that her thought processes improved when she had chocolate in her system. “I’ve said it before: there’s no doubt about Jake. He’s interested, but for some reason he’s holding back, and I need to find out why.”

  “It’s the Were thing. They all think they’re superior to us,” Stasi replied thoughtfully, nibbling on her chocolate Kiss. “I don’t understand why the other magickal beings don’t like witches. We’re all so wonderful. What’s not to like?”

  “Nasty hexes over the centuries, a few—or a hundred—wars. That type of thing.” Blair searched her pockets again for more chocolate but came up dry. She made a mental note to stop by Lancaster’s Old-Fashioned Chocolates and Candies without delay. She considered their hand-dipped milk chocolate graham crackers health food. And she thought she’d add a few coconut haystacks, along with Hetty Lancaster’s sinfully rich truffles, to her purchases. Her mouth was already watering at the thought.

  “But that wasn’t us,” Stasi pointed out, then reconsidered. “Well, some of the wars had to do with witches, but not us personally. We all get along. Well, to a point,” she had to concede. “And it’s not the way it was centuries ago.”

  “Thank the Fates,” Blair muttered, her mind still on the array of handmade chocolates at Lancaster’s.

  Stasi stopped and spun around to face her friend. “You’re thinking about chocolate, aren’t you?” she accused.

  Blair stepped around her and continued on. Witch on a mission—and with chocolate as the goal, there was no stopping her.

  “You are!” Stasi stayed on her heels.

  “You’re having regular sex with a guy who’s obviously giving you Grade-A orgasms.” She ignored Stasi’s hot blush. “I don’t have that pleasure. And while Flipper,” she said, referring to her trusty dolphin vibrator, “can take the edge off, it’s still not the same as the real thing.”

  Stasi narrowed her golden-brown eyes at her friend. “Then stop being subtle and do something! When has a stubborn man ever stopped you before?”

  “It would have been a lot easier if he was human instead of Were. Although love spells can be trouble, too. But I don’t want to get him with magick! It has to be his idea.”

  They reached the back stairs leading up to their apartment.

  Stasi shook her head. “Go get your chocolate. I’ll start the laundry.” She climbed the stairs. “But I want some champagne truffles!”

  “Done.” Blair’s mouth was watering more by the second as she thought of the rich chocolate she’d find in the small shop.

  She’d barely stepped foot inside the bright teal and hot pink décor of Lancaster’s Old-Fashioned Chocolates and Candies when the seductive scent of chocolate flooded her olfactory senses. She breathed in deeply. Ah, Nirvana!

  “I see someone’s in chocolate withdrawal.” Hetty Lancaster, a fortyish petite brunette with dancing blue eyes, stood at a marble counter pouring rich chocolate fudge to cool before slicing it into bricks.

  “I had two chocolate Kisses in my pocket, but Stasi was with me, so I had to share. All it did was prime the pump.” Blair leaned over the glass counter, careful not to drool on the pristine surface. “What’s that?” She pointed to colorful bricks of fudge.

  “Something new. It’s marbled orange fudge, like the orange and vanilla ice cream bars.” Hetty inclined her head toward a plate on the counter. “Try some.”

  Blair picked up a piece and popped it into her mouth. “Oh, this is good.” She stole another. “Okay, I need some of this, too. Along with milk chocolate with and without nuts, the mint chocolate, peanut butter and chocolate, rocky road, and some milk chocolate-coconut haystacks. Oh, and six—no, make that eight—milk chocolate dipped graham crackers. And a dozen champagne truffles.” She surveyed the displays, seeing even more she wanted—but eating herself into a chocolate coma wasn’t a good idea. She also knew she’d have to hide it from Bogie and Horace, who were as much chocoholics as she and Stasi were.

  “How I love customers like you.” Hetty efficiently boxed up the requested items. “And how I hate that you can eat this much and not gain an ounce.”

  Blair knew she had her magickal metabolism to thank for that, but it wasn’t something she advertised too widely. Although she knew she’d make a fortune if there was a way to bottle it.

  “You have turtles today.” She gazed longingly at the round candy made from caramel and nuts topped with chocolate.

  Hetty tossed a couple into a box. “By the way, you might want to hide somewhere. Agnes is on the prowl for volunteers. She was in here a few minutes ago.”

  Blair shook her head. “Too late. She ambushed me at Grady’s the other night, and I already said Stasi and I would help out, but she’s not going to get us to do more than I offered. Do you notice it’s usually the same people doing all the work for every town function? Why can’t she find other victims?”

  “Because she knows who will work and who won’t. Plus, she wants to impress Snow Farm’s new owner.”

  “There are days I wish someone would run for mayor against Floyd, because then we wouldn’t have to deal with Agnes and all her town promotion schemes,” Blair grumbled. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Floyd and Agnes, and she was very much aware of what the couple had done to revitalize the town. But she sometimes wished they would find other minions to help with their plans.

  “No one wants the job,” Hetty said, placing Blair’s purchases in three teal-colored bags with the shop name printed in hot pink script. “You can’t blame them. Most of us have our own businesses to run, and Floyd’s retired and happy to handle all the little things that come up with the town.”

  “Headaches, you mean.” Blair handed over her Visa card.

  “Exactly.”

  Blair tried not to wince at the amount printed on the charge slip, but she knew that Hetty’s candy was well worth the cost. When her husband divorced her four years ago and moved down the mountain, Hetty had taken over running the shop, making her chocolates, and raising her fifteen-year-old son, all with equal efficiency. Blair noticed that Hetty’s gaze kept veering toward the front window.

  “Looking for anyone in particular?”

  Hetty picked up the plate of samples on the counter and moved over to the back table to replenish it.

  “Vic should have been back with Jason by now,” she murmured. “It seems he brings Jason back later every time he has him.” She twisted her fingers, showing the fear and tension she’d been trying to hide.

  Blair was aware that Hetty’s ex-husband had an abusive personality that he had taken out on his wife, who had kept the violence quiet for her son’s sake, so nothing was ever done. Blair had even once less than subtly offered to work a severe punishment spell on Vic—any penalty from the Witches’ Council be damned—but Hetty begged her to leave him alone, fearing the man would retaliate, since he knew what Blair’s major gift was. Blair had accepted the woman’s decision, but she didn’t like it and swore that if Vic ever got out of hand, she’d zap him but good.

  “And you don’t dare complain to your lawyer about this?”

  “I got the shop and physical custody of Jason in exchange for not bringing up… things. Vic enjoys reminding me he can take me back to court any time he chooses, and he knows I can’t afford to keep on doing that.” Her eyes started to light up when a black Dodge Charger rolled to a stop in front of the shop, but the light dimmed when it was apparent that the tension
level inside the vehicle was high. “Please no,” she whispered.

  Blair watched Jason jump out of the car as Vic streaked out of the driver’s side and reached the boy in just a few steps, grabbing his wrist so hard Blair imagined she heard the bones grind. Judging from Jason’s wince of pain, she feared she wasn’t that far off.

  “Stay here,” she ordered Hetty, who had started to move forward. “I promise everything will be all right.” Blair was out the door in a flash.

  “Listen, you fuckin’ snot, you start treating me with the respect I deserve or you won’t be living with your bitch of a mother anymore, do you hear me?” Vic’s fingers tightened further on Jason’s wrist until the boy looked as if he would cry.

  “Vic.” Blair’s tone held about as much warmth as she’d bestow on a cockroach. Actually, she considered cockroaches many levels above Vic.

  He looked up. At first glance, Vic was handsome, with his ex-football player body and the bad boy charisma he exuded—until his darker side came out in full force, usually with harsh words and fists. Blair doubted he ever kept a girlfriend for long once they got to know the real him.

  The creep had once cornered Blair and it had taken a pretty nasty jolt to his genitals for him to get the message she wanted nothing to do with him, but he hadn’t forgotten, or forgiven, her rejection. She saw that now in his sinister gaze.

  “Back off, witch. This is family business,” he snarled.

  “I’d call it child abuse.” Her eyes lit on the dark purple, finger-shaped bruises on Jason’s wrist.

  “If you interfere, she’ll never see him again.”

  Blair’s temper could turn white-hot, but when she was beyond furious she tended to turn cold and right now the temperature in Antarctica was balmy compared to her.

  “I don’t think so, Vic. Don’t look at Hetty and don’t you dare blame her,” she snapped. “Right now, this is between you and me. This has to do with you being such a bully and what you’ve done to her and your own kid over the years, and your insane ability to get away with it. Guess what? Ain’t gonna happen anymore.” She took another step forward, feeling her power flow out through her fingertips. She made sure Vic saw and felt it, too. “Jason, honey, go on inside to your mother now.” She kept her eyes trained on Vic.

  The boy looked a combination of scared and relieved, but followed her direction and hurried into the shop and into his mother’s arms.

  “Here’s the deal,” Blair said conversationally. “You are going to treat Jason like the wonderful kid he is and you will treat Hetty with the respect she deserves. If you want to terrorize someone, go find a fetish club, where a nasty old Dom in a leather bodysuit and stiletto boots can stomp the shit out of you, but you will leave them alone. You got me?”

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the car. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you will hurt as you’ve never hurt before. Bad boy. Mad boy. I won’t be coy. No more hurt, no more pain. You… will… stop or you feel all you inflict. Make it so.”

  Vic swatted at the dark blue sparks that rained over him. “What the fuck?”

  “I made it easy for you,” Blair told him. “Any time you try to hurt Hetty or Jason by word or deed, you will find you can go no further. Your body will refuse to go any further. The same goes for any woman you try to abuse. Women, and children, are to be cherished and respected, not terrorized. And there’s no way you can take this spell out on anyone.”

  He straightened up and started for her.

  She held up a hand. “Don’t even think about it, Vic.” Her low voice throbbing with power got his attention more than her words. “You’ve always mocked Stasi and me as a Halloween joke. You have no idea what we’re capable of, and trust me, you really don’t want to know.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  Blair spared a quick glance to her left and saw Jake standing nearby. While his loose-limbed stance appeared casual, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the sharpness in his gaze.

  Oooh, my knight in shining fur.

  “I don’t think so. What about you, Vic?”

  The man appeared to grind his teeth. “Tell Hetty to make sure the little fucker’s ready on time from now on.” He reached inside the car and pulled out a duffle bag, tossing it to the sidewalk. He walked around the car and pulled open the door.

  “Just don’t forget what I said, Vic. The consequences wouldn’t be pretty,” she reminded him.

  As he revved the engine and roared off, his extended middle finger appeared over the top of his car.

  “Charming.” Jake walked over to her.

  “That’s Vic.” Blair looked back at the shop’s window and saw Hetty standing there, one arm draped over Jason’s shoulder. “Just a second.” She walked to the door and opened it up. “He won’t hurt you again, Jason,” she told him. “And he’ll actually behave.”

  “Blair, I…” Hetty looked worried.

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing major, just a little something that will remind him of his manners. There’s no way he can beat someone up just because he feels the need. And there’s no way he can fight it or have the spell erased. The only one strong enough to eliminate the spell is Jazz, and you know she’d only strengthen it if he were crazy enough to go to her. I’ve wanted to restrain him for some time, and now it’s been done.”

  “But he’s really strong,” Jason pointed out. “You know he’ll try.” He glanced down at his wrist, which was purpling more by the second.

  “If he does, he’ll find he can’t move. Can’t raise his hand, can’t even try anything through his lawyer, because who’s going to believe that a witch hexed him that way? People like the idea of hexes, but most still refuse to believe it can be done.” She offered them a smile before she ducked out again.

  “I see you did a bit of shopping.” Jake eyed the bags. “Are there rumors of an impending chocolate shortage in the world that I haven’t read about?”

  “Most of it’s for Stasi.” She decided not to divulge one of her vices. She was looking at a prime male specimen who had her mentally drooling even more than she actually did when walking into Hetty’s shop. Even though it was a cold day, Jake wore only a flannel shirt over a faded red T-shirt. She figured his Were metabolism kept him warm except on super cold days. “What are you up to?”

  He glanced across the street where his dark silver Suburban waited. Several large boxes were in the bed of the truck. “I’m heading down the mountain to drop off some things and pick up some supplies.”

  She summoned a bright smile while a tiny voice inside chimed Take me along! Take me along! like an energetic puppy. Any minute she’d be sitting up and begging with her tail wagging merrily away.

  Instead she took a step backward. “Well, have a good day, and thanks for being there in case Vic got out of hand. Although I guess he’d be a poor substitute for a coyote.” She grinned.

  Jake smiled back and nodded, then strolled across the street to his truck.

  “I really must work on my conversational skills,” she muttered, heading home with the intention of diving wholeheartedly into her chocolate stash.

  ***

  The witch is making me crazy. Jake downshifted as he reached a treacherous turn on the winding road. My life is making me crazy.

  For a moment back there, he’d been tempted to ask Blair to go along with him. His errands wouldn’t take all that long and he’d suggest they have some dinner, maybe even catch a movie. This time they could have a date that wasn’t under the ultra-watchful eyes of the whole damn town. He wanted to go out with her again, have the chance to kiss her good night again. Fill himself with the unique, sassy taste that was all Blair. Then thoughts of kissing her started to wander into forbidden territory.

  While she knew of his Were nature, did she honestly know what being Were meant? What the darker side of his personality could entail?

  When he swung the truck around another curve, a faint tinkle of chimes sounded i
n the air. He glanced briefly at the gold chain that swung from the rearview mirror, a chain he had once worn around his neck as a symbol of his status as the second-in-command’s whelp. Suspended from the links were small charms etched with ancient symbols. It was the only thing he had taken with him other than his clothing when he left the Pack, and reminder enough of why he hadn’t asked Blair to go with him. It had been a gift from his father when he had reached puberty, and Jake couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

  “If she finds out the truth about what I left behind with the Pack, there’ll be Hades to pay. I’ll be lucky to end up with even a small patch of fur left on my ass.”

  ***

  “It’s like Indian summer today,” Stasi commented as she and Blair took advantage of an unseasonable warm front to bask on their rooftop patio under the winter sun. Stasi was celebrating the warm day with summery capris and a sleeveless top, while Blair wore denim cutoffs, a dark yellow T-shirt, and tooled brown leather ankle boots with a three-inch heel. A straw cowgirl hat was tipped forward over her eyes. She looked ready for a night down at the nearest country-western honky tonk instead of an afternoon of vegging out.

  Blair pushed back her hat and surveyed her bare legs with a soft sigh. “If I’d known we’d have a great day like this, I would have gone for a spray tan. Magick tans still are hit and miss for me.”

  “You’re not the only one. The last time I tried it, I ended up looking so blotchy you would have thought I had some sort of horrible skin disease, and then it wouldn’t go away for two weeks.” Stasi smothered a yawn.

  Blair curled her lip as she observed her friend’s sleepy manner. “Do not mutter you had a long night, or I will have to hurt you.

  Stasi’s satisfied smile told it all. “Fine, I won’t.” She stretched her arms over her head and yawned again, then yelped when Blair zapped her bare leg. Bogie floated his way into her lap and snuggled in as she swung back and forth in the wood slat porch swing. “Jealous much?”

  “I’m taking the Fifth.” Blair spotted a tall figure in the distance and frowned. She dug the binoculars out of the nearby storage box and brought them up to her eyes—taking careful note of the angle of the sunlight. Her frown turned to a smile as she remembered Jake’s teasing.