by Linda Wisdom
“True, even flying first class doesn’t provide the amenities Vamp Air did.” He grinned when Flavius winced at his flippant tone. “You’re still too serious, my friend.”
“And you still fight authority when it suits you.” The elder vampire settled back in a chair. “So tell me what you have been doing. I understand Jazz is living in the area. Have you seen her? It’s been awhile for you two, hasn’t it?”
Nick was not surprised that in only a few hours, and with very little effort, Flavius had ascertained Jazz’s location. Even if he didn’t admit it, Flavius knew to the day just how long it had been since Jazz and Nick had seen each other. The elder vampire had endured his share of run-ins with the snarky witch over the centuries.
“It’s been a little over thirty years,” he admitted. “Jazz never changes.”
Flavius cocked an eyebrow, silently asking for details of the first meeting he sensed was more than a casual run-in. “You sound as if the two of you did nothing more innocuous than go out for coffee. That I can’t believe.”
“Not even close. I tracked her down the other night and she brought up witchflame and threw a fireball at me. She next threatened to stake me.”
“And that’s a new thing?” The elder vampire chuckled.
“This time she actually held the stake to my chest and made sure it was right over my heart.”
Flavius winced. “Jazz has always been gifted in holding a grudge.”
Nick looked at the being that knew him better than anyone. Flavius was more than his friend; he was his sire. He was the vampire that had turned him and then taught him the skills necessary to survive in a world that denied its residents sunlight and knew only violence. Flavius had spent his mortal adult life serving as a Consul, one of the highest-ranking officers in the Roman Army at the time when Ancient Rome ruled the world. He understood just what it took to exist among predators. Their friendship strengthened with each passing century. Nick wouldn’t know what to do if anything ever happened to his friend.
Nick studied the bland expression on Flavius’ face. “You’re not here just to talk over old times. You mentioned meetings. They had to do with the missing vampires, didn’t they?”
The elder vampire inclined his head. “It has come to the Protectorate’s attention that the numbers have greatly increased in the past year. They are now quite anxious since the problem has become more public among our community due to rumors going around of a supposed cure for vampirism.”
“They’re worried now? A little late, aren’t they?” Nick pushed his hands through his hair, dislodging the thick strands. He paced the length of the dark office. “Why weren’t they worried five years ago? Ten? Even seventy years ago when the rumors first began? When I first brought this to their attention? You are one of their senior members, Flavius. Hell, you’re probably their most senior member. Yet they did nothing to protect their own when the disappearances first started and continued to ignore the situation as they increased over the years,” he ground out.
“At the time they thought of them as isolated incidents. You know as well as anyone that similar happenings have occurred over the centuries. Members of our kind disappear for many reasons. We also didn’t have the resources we have these days.”
“Isolated?” Nick barked a laugh. “I have been away from this city for some time, but even I know these aren’t isolated incidents. In the beginning, one or two a month went missing. Now it is that number each week and possibly more.” His grim expression spoke volumes. “Come on, Flavius, we both know who is behind this and he needs to be stopped.”
Flavius shook his head. “You have no proof that Clive Reeves is behind the disappearances.”
“Do you honestly doubt I am wrong?”
“Ever the hard-headed policeman. You should have stayed with the Protectorate instead of striking out on your own, my friend. You would have been running a division by now.”
“No thanks. Too many rules.” Nick looked around at his cramped, funky office. If he had remained with the Protectorate, he would have had a suite in a high-rise building downtown, elegant antique furniture and rare paintings decorating his office, an unlimited expense account, secretaries, assistants at his beck and call, and any information he needed in the blink of an eye. Not to mention a healthy bank account.
Instead, his office took up one corner of a crumbling building where smells of cotton candy and popcorn drifted through the window, his furniture had been found at a flea market, voice mail handled his calls because he couldn’t afford a secretary yet and his bank account straddled the fence between red and black, leaning more to the former than the latter. Still, he was content because he had no one to answer to but himself.
Flavius rested his fingers together steeple fashion. “The Protectorate wishes to hire you to look into this matter.”
“Been there, done that, never again.”
Flavius shook his head. “We wish to hire you as an outside contractor.” He named a figure that had Nick’s bank account whistling We’re in the Money. “And we are willing to pay off the mortgage on this building, so you would have it free and clear.”
Nick wasn’t surprised they knew he struggled to make the mortgage payments every month. Just because he was no longer an agent with the Protectorate didn’t mean they stopped keeping tabs on him. He knew leaving the organization didn’t mean the organization left him—something he’d never share with Jazz even if he ever managed to talk to her without her bringing up witchflame. “I don’t think so. They would probably want to keep the deed. What is really going on, Flavius?”
Flavius shook his head. “I promise you the deed would be handed over to you. As to what’s going on, we acknowledge there have been problems in the past….”
Nick threw up his hands. “Problems? Flavius, you are like a father to me. And once upon a time the Protectorate was my family. But I have not talked to any Protectorate agent besides you for the last eight years. Why would they come to me now? You have plenty of agents more qualified than I to take Reeves down.”
“What happened then could not be helped.”
Nick took a moment to gather his thoughts. He did not want to argue with Flavius. It had been too long since they had seen each other and he would rather spend the time reminiscing about better times than dredge up old hurts.
“If they want to hire me, they will sign my contract and pay my daily rate and expenses.” He automatically quadrupled his usual fee. The Protectorate had access to unlimited funds; Nick didn’t.
He carried a decent caseload at the moment working for a couple of vampires who wanted him to find their missing mates, but they didn’t have much money and he took the cases because it gave him a legitimate reason to investigate the disappearances. Contrary to popular myth, not all vampires were wealthy. Many of the ones he worked for could barely afford to pay his expenses, but he refused to turn down anyone in need. Now, he figured if he was going to investigate the increase in disappearing vampires, he may as well let the Protectorate pick up the whole tab.
Flavius burst out laughing. “You have not changed at all. Dare I say you are as hard-headed as your witch?”
“She’s not my witch and, trust me, she wouldn’t appreciate you calling her that.” The fireball had been a close call and the stake even closer. “If I’m to do this I want full access to all the Protectorate’s records on the disappearances.”
“We will provide you with whatever you require.”
Nick shook his head. “No, I want everything the Protectorate has. I know how you work, Flavius. You would give me what you feel is crucial and not necessarily what I need. This has been going on for decades and I’m sure you have records covering all those years.”
Flavius waved a languid hand. “Agreed. I will give you the proper passwords to access all our records.”
Nick nodded. “Thank you. A contract will be delivered to your office within a few hours. You can sign it and return it along with my retainer.”
Flavius smiled. “That will be acceptable.” He stood up. “Have you talked to Jazz about Clive Reeves?”
Nick fought hard to conceal the direction of his thoughts in regards to that question. “Jazz’s memories of Clive Reeves aren’t exactly Hallmark material,” he muttered, grimacing at the colossal understatement. He regretted every day since that fateful night that he hadn’t destroyed the creature that looked human but had no human qualities. And they called Nick’s kind monsters. Those who did had never met Clive Reeves.
“Neither are yours,” Flavius reminded him. “Don’t allow that prejudice to get in the way of your investigation, Nico. We can’t interfere in a mortal’s life just because you have a hunch—and perhaps a grudge.”
Nick whipped around to face his sire.
“Then tell me this. Why have so many vampires attended parties at the Reeves mansion, and yet not all leave the property? And even with that knowledge, why has no one done anything about it?”
Flavius’ smile showed the weariness of a man who also had more questions than answers.
“Since the Protectorate has engaged your services, I would say that it is now up to you to find out.”
“I’m sorry, Callie, but I don’t do that type of work. I don’t follow alleged cheating mates,” Nick sighed, keeping the phone to his ear as he wandered the office. He glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. He was late meeting Flavius at Club Insolence, an exclusive club for wealthy vampires who were willing to pay the outrageous membership fees for their privacy. The club wasn’t Nick’s style, but Flavius enjoyed the elitist ambiance there. Nick planned to take Flavius to The Crypt, a more down-and-dirty club, the next time they got together. Knowing Flavius, he would enjoy what both clubs offered.
“But I was told you’re the best, that you can do what others can’t! Please?” the woman begged. “I need to know the truth about Thomas. I want to know that he still loves me as much as I love him.”
Nick stifled a groan. He wanted to tell her that ten-to-one her mate was cheating on her. The couple had been converted together only twenty years ago because they wanted to be together always. The trouble was, male vamps tended to be extremely promiscuous for the first couple hundred years just because they could and the sex was so mind-blowing that it turned into an addiction. If it hadn’t been for Flavius teaching him that quality definitely outweighed quantity, Nick would have been screwing a new woman, or four, every night, too.
“Do you truly love him?” he asked her, already knowing what her answer would be. Fates save him from lovesick baby vampires.
“Yes.” Her heart might no longer beat, but her sobs were without a doubt the heartbroken kind. “We vowed we would love each other always. That’s why we got converted together. But now he goes out almost every night and he doesn’t want me going with him. He said he’s expected to hunt with other males. I don’t believe him. Oh, he brings food back for me, but we don’t spend time together the way I thought we would.”
Nick pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Spare him from fickle young love. It never lasted as long as they thought it would. “I’m sorry, Callie, but I truly don’t take on this type of case. I’ll tell you what I can do. I want you to talk to a friend of mine. Her name’s Rowena.”
“Rowena,” she repeated the name. “So she can find out if Thomas is cheating on me?”
“No, but she can help you find your own way in the vampire world.” He winced at the muffled sob on the other end as realization hit hard that one night Thomas might not come back. Nick never did well with emotional females. At least Jazz never teared up when she was in an emotional state. She was more into throwing things at his head. “You admitted you personally have had few contacts with other vampires after the two of you converted. What about your sire?”
“Who?”
Nick swallowed a groan. “The vampire who made you. He or she should be instructing the two of you in how to survive in your new world.”
“No, we just paid this guy to do it.” She sounded totally clueless about the undead existence ahead of her.
He mentally spat out more than his share of curses and wished for a few of Jazz’s fireballs. “He shouldn’t have done that. It was his job to teach the two of you how to exist in our world.”
“Thomas has vampire friends who do that,” Callie said.
“You’ve relied too much on Thomas to take care of you and handle things for you. If, Fates forbid, something happens to him, you would be fair game for others. You need to know how to take care of yourself, Callie. In our world, it is essential that you be able to do for yourself or you’ll be fair prey for any vampire stronger than you, and right now you’re still as weak as a newborn kitten.” He had this vision of the constantly disappearing Thomas coming home at the stroke of dawn with a super-sized to-go cup of blood for Callie. What better way to keep her under his self-imposed power than to ensure she only fed if he brought the food to her? It was tempting to hunt down the bastard and show him what could happen to young arrogant vampires who did not follow the rules set down by the Vampire Council ages ago. But then the younger vamps saw the Council as nothing more than a bunch of old fogies who didn’t believe in living in the new millennium. He feared the time would come when a war would be waged between the old traditions and the new, far more progressive but often self-destructive ways.
When he hung up, he got the feeling that the young female vampire wouldn’t call Rowena and take that first step to independence, but he hoped he was wrong. He didn’t want to think that the emotionally frail Callie might grow so depressed she would greet the dawn, which was the vampire way of committing suicide. All because she was in love and wanted to be with her boyfriend forever.
No thanks to the internet, too many people, most of them troubled and lost, had the ability to seek out vampires, who, for a fee, would convert them with the promise of an eternal existence of wealth and decadence. What these hapless fools didn’t understand was that the fee only covered the conversion. Then they were left to fend for themselves, and without any training on how to understand their enhanced senses and thirst for blood, some turned feral, while others couldn’t handle it, and insanity turned to death. When Nick had been a member of the Protectorate, his main job was hunting down many of the vampires who performed the conversions and destroying them before their wasteful practices destroyed the balance with humanity. And since he managed to blend easily enough with the human community, he was able to work under the guise of a mortal law enforcement agent when it was needed. His hand behind the death of so many vampires, even if they deserved it, had been the main reason he had left the organization that had nurtured him from the beginning of his time as a vampire. He hated the destruction of any being if there was a way it could be prevented. Rowena, an old friend, had come up with a solution by running a sort of halfway house for fledgling vampires who had no clue what they had gotten themselves into.
Nick made a mental note to call Rowena when he got back and tell her about Callie. Thanks to Caller ID he had the young vampire’s phone number. Perhaps Rowena would be successful where Nick himself hadn’t been in helping the young vampire understand what she needed to do besides simply awaiting the return of the constantly wandering Thomas.
Lost in contemplation of miserable—though often self-imposed—vampire fortunes, it was pure chance that he glanced out his office window and saw Jazz walking along the boardwalk. Although he always thought Fate had a twisted sense of humor where he and Jazz were concerned, this bit of synchronous interference certainly beat all.
He took the quickest way out of his office by climbing from the window onto the narrow iron fire escape and going up instead of down. The buildings’ flat-topped roofs made it easy for him to follow her as she headed for the boardwalk’s arcade and pier.
He wasn’t surprised to discover she lived near the boardwalk. The child in Jazz had always loved the energy and bright colors of carnivals and fairs. On
ce upon a time they had spent many a summer evening at Coney Island riding the large wooden roller coaster, visiting the exhibits, and dancing under the stars. Those magical nights had more to do with Jazz, the woman, than Jazz, the witch. He smiled. She had been known as Jessica Tremaine back then. She had favored voluminous skirts that swirled gracefully from her tiny waist and she’d worn her hair up in an elegant twist. Nothing like the faded jeans and baggy sweatshirt she wore tonight with her coppery hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
But the magick between them never lasted long. His work would intrude on their lives and she would lose her temper because he would be forced to take her into custody for some infraction or another since she had a habit of interfering or getting in the way. So they would part amid colorful shouts and curses. There’d been so many partings, both past and present. Yet, they always managed to find their way back to each other. He liked to think the Fates had a hand in that.
Tonight Nick was content to follow Jazz’s leisurely progress past the usual Midway games that were guaranteed to take your money as easily as any Las Vegas craps table. As she walked by he noticed the workers cease their usual patter in hopes of luring passersby to stop at their booths to try their luck with one of the games. In fact, they managed to avoid looking at her altogether. She could have been a ghost freely strolling the weathered boards. Or someone who didn’t need luck in pitching dimes or trying the ring toss to win a prize.
“You’ve won’their games too many times, haven’t you, darling?” he murmured.
Jazz stopped for a paper cone of pink cotton candy then walked to the pier. As she enjoyed her sugary treat, she occasionally took a small bit of the spun candy and tucked it into a large tote bag hanging from her shoulder.
“You two behave,” he heard her warn the bag’s contents. “I don’t want Rex to ban me from the boardwalk too.”
