50 Ways to Hex Your Lover (7 page)

Her head bobbed up and down. “Thank you.”

Again Jazz wondered if she had ever been that young. “Just don’t do anything so stupid again. And clean up those rooms until
they can pass the white glove test!” She walked out.

“How was it?” Irma called out. A flicker of light flew out of the car.

Jazz sighed. She knew Irma wouldn’t have been able to go too long without a cigarette.

“A bunch of Twinkies with no brains thought they could use a spell to make idiot boys act like idiot pigs.” She secured the
money in the glove compartment.

“Nothing unusual about that. When boys drink too much they always act like pigs.”

“Only this drink actually turned the boys into real swine.”

“Oh, my!” Irma patted her breast in ladylike shock. “That is not very sanitary either.”

Jazz thought of the smell that had seeped right into the walls. She was positive the girls would never get it out of the house.

“No kidding.” As she started up the car, she realized her next destination wouldn’t be as easy. She swallowed the groan that
threatened to rise up her throat. “And now I have to shop for groceries.”

“You’re a witch. Why can’t you just wave your hands and let the food appear in the kitchen?”

“Because I’d be punished for it.” Jazz thought of the produce manager who always leered at her while he fondled the melons.
She couldn’t imagine the council would tack on an additional sixty days for an exploding grapefruit … or five. Not when the
man deserved it. “Today, he just might find out what it feels like to be sprayed by a grapefruit,” she whispered to herself.

Sometimes, the punishment was worth the crime.

The coming of dawn pulled at Nick’s power, reminding him it was time to rest. He caught a last glimpse of the full moon, which
the weres revered and gave them strength, and wondered why the same full moon would also have a centering effect on Jazz.
Admittedly, with her energy level that said a lot.

Damn that witch!

After a frustrating night of tracking down a deadbeat vampire—even the undead were required to pay their bills—Nick was ready
to spend the daylight hours resting. He had been a vampire long enough that he didn’t have to sleep the day away and could
even go out on sunless days without fear of bursting into flames. But he spent bright days like today in the shadowed darkness
of his office, where he either caught up on paperwork or took a nap. After the night he had, today was definitely a day for
recharging his batteries.

The two-story building near the boardwalk was as antique as the nearby carousel. He took the cagelike elevator to the second
floor and headed for the office at the end of the hallway marked Gregory Investigations. The moment he stepped into the reception
area his senses detected he wasn’t alone. Just as quickly he knew that his uninvited visitor was a welcome one. He did not
bother turning on a light. Neither of them would require one.

“You’re very trusting, my friend. Even a mortal child could pick that sorry excuse for a lock.” A blond-haired man uncoiled
his lean length from the chair in front of Nick’s desk and approached him. His broad smile pronounced him friend rather than
foe. “By the sign on your door I see you have also modernized your name. I must say that Nick Gregory suits the vampire facing
me more than Nikolai Gregorivich did.”

“Flavius!” Nick threw his arms around the man in greeting. “When did you arrive in L.A.?”

“Last evening. I had some meetings to attend out this way and thought I would stop by to see you.” He glanced around the office
filled with 1940s era furniture that fit with Nick’s casual clothing and contrasted greatly with Flavius’s sleek Italian cut
suit, Egyptian cotton pale blue shirt that mirrored the color of his eyes and tasteful black diamond cufflinks. “I see you
still think you’re Sam Spade.”

“And I see you still view yourself as James Bond.” Nick’s grin revealed a hint of fang. “Where are you based now? New York
City? Paris? Rome?”

“I’ve been based in Madrid for the past few years.”

“Making use of the Protectorate’s private jet again, are you?” Nick teased.

“As befits a company executive. As I recall you once had free use of any jet in the fleet.”

Nick silently admitted that giving up some of the perks of the Protectorate did hurt. Every jet in the fleet was set up to
handle a vampire’s every need from protection from daylight to blood on tap whether bottled or fresh from a willing vein.

“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 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.