by Flynn, Mac
Vince cautiously opened his eyes. He turned them eastward and beheld the bright, glowing day star. His blue eyes widened and his mouth dropped slightly open. He stood and stumbled over to the two-foot tall ledge that surrounded the rooftop. Vince placed his hands on the wide ledge and leaned over the sixty-foot drop.
I followed him and couldn't help smiling at his expression of awe. "My god," I heard him whisper.
"Not bad, huh? Bet it's been a long time since you saw one of these without getting scorched," I replied.
"A very long time," he agreed.
I smiled and turned my gaze on the bright sun. I closed my eyes and opened wide my arms to take in the warmth. The sun enveloped me in its soothing embrace, and I sighed. "I really missed this," I whispered.
"Thank you."
My eyes snapped open and I looked to my partner. He stared straight ahead with his lips pursed together. "Did you. . .did you say something?" I asked him.
Vince straightened and coughed. "Thank you for showing me this view. It was. . .nice."
I smiled and flung the blanket over his shoulders. "No problem. Now let's get you back to bed before you catch your death of cold."
We shuffled our way back to our apartment and I tucked Vince into bed. His skin was still cool to the touch, but he'd stopped shivering. I took my place on the floor, but in a minute I heard the familiar squeak of the bed, and I lifted my head to look at my mummified partner. "Still can't get warm?" I asked him.
"It s-seems not," he answered.
I glanced around the wrecked, drafty room and sighed. "Yeah, this place is pretty cold. I guess there's only one thing left to do."
Vince lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder when I climbed onto the bed with my entourage of blankets. "What are y-you doing?" he questioned me.
"If your body heat isn't working for you then you need another body," I told him. I slipped myself beneath the covers and slid toward him.
Vince's eyes widened and he tried to escape me, but he already lay at the edge of the bed. "I-I have no need of-"
"Bullshit, now just lay still and behave." I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him toward me. He twisted and turned his back to me, and his hands caught the edge of the bed, so I scooted until my chest lay against his back. "See? Is that so bad?"
Vince lay as stiff as a board-well, one that quivered-and I could practically hear his teeth grind together. "Please release me," he commanded.
"Nope," I replied, and snuggled closer. Secretly I was grateful for his warmth as I, too, was a little bothered by the cold of the room.
"Human, release me at once," he demanded.
"You're a human now, too, so just relax and get some sleep." I closed my eyes and burrowed my face into his long back. He shuddered one last time, but the shivers didn't return. His body was so warm and I was so tired that my voice drifted into a sleepy whisper. "See? This isn't so bad."
I drifted into a beautiful, peaceful human sleep.
Chapter 8
Old habits are hard to break, and we slept most of the day away. It wasn't until about three that I awoke from my slumber. I didn't bother to open my eyes before I stretched. Or rather, before I tried to stretch. Something had my arms pinned to my sides and both my legs pinned beneath it. I opened my eyes and was met with a view of a white shirt. The things wrapped around my legs were Vince's legs, and his arms were wrapped around me. He held me in his strong, warm embrace as we both lay face-to-face.
I blushed and squirmed. My movements didn't awaken him. He slept like his former undead self. I pressed my hands against his chest and tried to push us apart, but he'd found his male human strength and wouldn't let go. "Vince," I spoke up. "Vince, let me go. I have to go to the bathroom." I glanced up into his face and my eyes caught on something strange that hadn't been there the day before. "Vince! Vince, wake up!"
Vince's eyes shot open and he bolted upright. He turned his head this way and that, and in the light of the weak sun through the covered windows I caught my first good glimpse of him. He had wrinkles beneath his eyes and along his chin, and there were streaks of silver hair along his temples. The veins on his hands stood out among his wrinkled flesh and dark spots covered the back of his palms. "What is the matter?" he asked me.
I sat up and nodded at his face. "Vince, you're old," I told him.
He scowled at me. "I am well aware of my age."
"No, your face is all wrinkly," I rephrased.
Vince frowned, threw off the blankets, and hurried out of the room. I followed him to the bathroom, the only place in the apartment with mirrors. He stared into the mirrors, but the room was too dark to see anything but a dark reflection, so I flicked on the light. Vince started back and his eyes widened. He leaned forward and, with a shaking hand, reached up and touched the wrinkles and gray hairs.
"You think it's the hex?" I asked him.
Vince dropped his head and pursed his lips. "We must go to Bat. I will drive," he told me.
He swept past me and into the living room. "What's wrong? What is it?" I questioned him as I followed him out the apartment door and down the stairs.
"I'm not sure, but Bat will confirm my suspicions," he replied.
Vince drove us to Bat's in record time. Well, a record for a human. We parked the car in the garage and Vince was at the dividing wall door before I even stepped out of the car. I hurried after him as he flung himself into the lab. "Bat! Bat!" he called out. He was like a madman as he rushed through the tables of beakers and bottles. "Bat!"
"What's the noise about? Can't an old man get some sleep?" a sleepy voice called from the far corner of the lab. Bat rose from a chair seated before one of the tables, and he blinked his bleary eyes at us.
Vince raced up to him and grabbed him by the collar. The former vampire pulled the startled mad scientist against him so their faces nearly touched. "What's happening to me?"
Bat started away from Vince and raised an eyebrow. "You seem to have aged," he answered.
Vince shook him as I came up to the pair. "How do we reverse this aging?" he growled at Bat.
Bat frowned and pried himself from Vince's hold. "The first thing to do is stop panicking. The aging process appears to be very slow."
My mouth dropped open and I gestured with both hands to Vince's aged face. "You call this slow?"
Bat scoffed. "If it were quick he would have been reduced to a pile of fine dust a half day ago. Yes, this is certainly a slow aging brought on by the hex, and only the revocation of the hex can reverse the effects. If they can be reversed."
I felt the color drain from my face and saw the same reaction reflected in Vince's face. Vince turned and strode through the tables and back into the garage. Bat sidled up to me and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Stay close to him," he instructed me.
"To sweep up his ashes?" I returned.
He shook his head, and his lips were tightly pursed together. "No, to keep him from harming himself. I haven't seen him so lost in fear and anger since-well, for a very long time. He may harm himself, so he needs you to protect him from himself."
I snorted. "Guardian angel for a former vampire. I'd better get a nice halo with my wings when this is done."
I followed my frantic partner and stepped into the garage just as he was backing the car out. "Hey, wait a sec!" I rushed around the front and was glad I left the door open as I swung myself inside and slammed the door shut. I glared at Vince, but his attention was on backing up. "You could have at least waited for me!" Vince's only reply was to clear the driveway to the garage and step on the gas as hard as he could so we sped down the alleyways and onto the main roads in the slums. I grabbed the handle at every tight turn. "Could you slow down?" I yelled at him.
"No."
"Could you at least give the hex a chance to kill us instead of doing it yourself?" I growled.
"No."
I flung myself across the seat, grabbed the wheel from his control, and stomped my left foot on the brake. We screeche
d to a wobbly stop just short of crashing into a stop sign. I turned to Vince and scowled at him. "What the hell is wrong with you? We've faced dangers before-hell, you've faced a hell of a lot of dangers in your life. What's the problem now?" He frowned and turned away. My eyebrows crashed down, and I grabbed his chin and turned him so he faced me. "What the hell is the problem?" I repeated.
Vince tore his chin from my hands, but still faced me. "I will not die of old age."
My mouth dropped slightly open. "Is that it? After all the other trouble we've had you're afraid of dying of old age?"
He snarled and turned away. "You would not understand."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Try-" I paused and sighed. Bat was right, Vince was scared. My arms dropped to my sides and my voice softened. "Come on, Vince. Haven't we been through enough that you can tell me what's bothering you?"
He opened his mouth, clamped it shut and shook his head. "You can't begin to understand the loathing I have for age. I have not known aging for many centuries. It is as foreign as an exotic disease is to you, and is completely fatal."
"But everybody dies," I argued.
Vince whipped his head to me and his narrowed blue eyes glared at me. "I do not die. Not of that."
"So you're what? Wanting to die some other way? You want to kick the bucket in a heroic fashion with guns blazing?" I guessed.
He sneered. "Something like that."
I scooted closer and touched his arm. "Vince, you're not going to die of anything anytime soon because I'm not going to let you do that. Not just because you'd take me with you, but because I-well, I just don't want to see you die at all, okay? You're a pain in the ass, but you're my pain in the ass."
Vince's face relaxed and he raised an eyebrow. "Your pain in the ass?" he repeated.
I blushed, and turned away and crossed my arms over my chest. "Hey, a girl can not want a guy she knows to die." My eyes flickered over to him. "Besides, you're kind of cute with those gray hairs at your temple. It gives you a sort of R'as Algul look with the added bonus that you're a little ghoulish."
Vince stared straight ahead and sighed. "I am. . ." His voice faded off so I couldn't hear the last word.
"You're what?" I asked him.
He frowned. "I am sorry," he spoke in a louder voice. "I should not have panicked as I did."
I smiled. "Well, you can panic all you want, just don't try killing us with the car. I'd like to go out in a blaze of glory, but not because the car's on fire from the crash."
A shadow of a smile slipped onto his lips. "I will be a more cautious driver," he promised.
I smiled and shrugged. "Good, now let's get going. Where are we going, anyway?" I asked him.
He started up the car and drove us back on the road, but with less panic. "To Hawthorn Avenue."
I frowned and tapped my chin. "Isn't that where you said a bunch of witches lived?"
"Yes. That is the registration office for the guild in this city," he explained.
"Registration? What are they registering?"
"Witches."
Chapter 9
We drove through the slums to a city block much like our lovely home. There was the usual apartment buildings, but these were smaller and older. They barely had four floors and were spaced apart to allow for wider alleys between them. Vince stopped us in front of one of the less ugly buildings. None of the windows were broken, but they were all dark and nothing moved behind the thick curtains that hung in them. Nothing moved on the street, either, as Vince led me up the tall stoop and through the double doors.
It was like we'd entered another building. The lobby was as large as a five-star hotel reception area, and all the decrepit aspects on the outside stayed on the outside. The floors were polished marble and the redwood walls hung with old, expensive tapestries. A grand staircase stood at the back, and to the left was an elevator. On the right side of the lobby stood a long, elegant mahogany front desk, and behind the desk sat a secretary.
The woman looked like any other secretary: about forty with hints of gray and with her mouth pressed in an eternal frown. She sat in a large, high-back plush chair and filed her nails. The only unusual aspect about her was the fact that the nail file floated in the air while her free hand held a magazine.
At our entrance she sat at attention and snapped her fingers. The nail file plopped itself into a drawer, and the drawer closed on its own. "How can I help you?" she asked us.
Vince led me up to the desk and I was glad to see his step held its usual confidence. "We need Witch Identification and her known address," he told her.
The secretary snorted. "We can't just give out that information to anybody. There has to be a good reason or authorization from the Head Witch."
I frowned. "How are we supposed to even identity the witch if we don't know her name?" I wondered.
The secretary gave me a condescending look. "If you've been hexed by a registered witch then we can easily find out by examining the hex and identifying her magic fingerprint. However, we don't go around Identifying all the hexes someone's been cursed with and letting strangers stalk down our members. There has to be a good reason for us to reveal our sisters to anyone, especially a pair of humans."
Vince reached across the desk and grabbed her by the collar. He dragged her toward him so their faces nearly touched. His voice was calm, but firm and slightly terrifying. "Dying is a very good reason," he told her.
"I think that's the first time I've seen you lose your temper in a hundred years," a voice quipped.
We turned to see a beautiful, voluptuous woman of twenty-five emerge from the elevator. She was a woman most other females envied, what with her huge assets and a tight shirt to show them off. Earrings in the shape of witch's brooms dangled from her ears, and she strode up to us in red high-heels with a matching dress that had a slit that went up to her waist. Vince dropped the secretary and straightened himself.
The secretary pressed her clothes with her hand and pointed an accusing finger at us. "But Miss Vera, these intruders were-"
"It's fine, Mona." The woman known as Vera tapped her way over to Vincent and slid a thin, delicate finger across his shoulder. "Vincent is always allowed in here. If you'll come this way." She turned our attention to the elevator.
Vincent followed her, and I felt like a third leg as I followed him. We climbed aboard and I noticed there were fifty buttons on the panel and fifty numbers on the indicator above the elevator doors. The exterior of the building had only shown four floors. The doors shut behind us and the woman tapped one of her hands on the button with the number fifty on it. She turned to Vince and slyly smiled at him.
"You should have told me you were coming. I could have slipped into something more comfortable," she teased. Her eyes swept over him. "A very nice look with your gray hairs. It suits you without looking fake.
"The gray was not my choice," Vince replied.
"Yes, I know. Your life pulses are so weak that I barely sensed you enter the building. You should be dead in a few days," she commented.
I felt the color drain from my face. "Is that it?"
Vera turned her attention on me and her smile didn't waver. "Mhm, unless you can get the hex off you. I imagine it must be quite the complication being chained to each other with those rings," the woman replied.
I tucked my ring hand behind me and glanced between Vince and her. "You two know each other for a while?"
"We used to date until he lost his humor with his soul," she explained. She turned to Vince and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts squished up against Vince, but he only turned his face to the side so they didn't bump noses. "He was quite the rowdy young man in his younger days."
I tamped down the surprising rise of jealousy inside of me. "So do you know how to break the hex that's killing us?"
"Yes, and no." The elevator rang and the doors opened to reveal a small entrance hall with a pair of double doors ten yards from the elevator.
Vera slipped
off Vince, stepped out of the elevator and led us through the double doors. Beyond the entrance hall was a lavish suite decked out in purples and blacks. There was a living room situated in a center depression, and she directed us to the couch. She herself took a lush seat close to Vince's cushion. "I know who put the spell on you. Any witch with training can know the magic fingerprints of another. Simone is poorly skilled, but very gifted," she commented.
"But can you get it off?" I persisted.
She shook her head. "No. Only the witch who placed the hex can revoke it. Fortunately, I may be able to help you find her. Or rather, she might be able to help you find her. Her apartment is on one of the lower floors. You can look through her things and maybe find a clue as to her whereabouts. That's what you detectives do, isn't it?"
I scowled at her. "Then why didn't you just take us there?"
Her sly eyes flickered to Vince. "Because I'd like some info myself, and my questions didn't need to be overheard in the lobby." Her smile faded and her eyes grew cold. With that look of cool hatred I could understand how she got the top suite of the witch place. "One of my old friends, Hilda, was recently murdered by some of Ruthven's men, and I want to know why. I heard you were looking dealing with Ruthven, and hoped you could answer my question."
Vince stood and shook his head. "Ruthven is too dangerous a man for you to be asking questions of."
Vera snorted and waved away his concerns. "That's unusually gallant for you. Your humanity in that body must be causing you to slip, but I don't care about the dangers. Many of my witch sisters are scared that Ruthven has started a war against witches. Nothing I say will calm them, and I can't give them any answers to their questions. Now are you going to give me some answers or are you going to waste the precious few days you have left looking through the fifty floors in this building searching for Simone's room?"