Dead-Tective Box Set

by Mac Flynn

  "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 screeched 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 n
ame?" 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?"

  "We don't know why Ruthven killed her," I spoke up. Vince glared at me, but I shrugged. "That's what we were trying to find out when that witch hexed us."

  She raised an eyebrow at Vince. "I know you and Ruthven have some sort of long-standing disagreement, but why should you care about his murdering of a witch?"

  "Because he murdered Tim for a reason, and that reason involves Hilda," Vince told her.

  Vera snorted. "That's rich. You caring for your old partner. That hex of Simone's must have packed a powerful life spell to put that much soul into you."

  I jumped to my feet, pressed my fists to my hips, and scowled at her. "He cared about Tim's murder before the hex. If you really knew him and cared about him you'd know that already and wouldn't be sitting here wasting our time while he stands there dying."

  She frowned. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important," she argued.

  "What's more important than Vince's life?" I snapped at her. "Some stupid questions you want to ask? Ask them later, stop wasting our time, and give us that floor number!"

  Vera's eyes narrowed and she slowly slid off the couch and onto her feet. A purple mist floated from her fingers. "I've heard some stories about you, little girl, but you obviously don't know anything about me. I haven't lived two hundred years and learned thousands of hexes just to have some inductee into the paranormal society tell me what I should and shouldn't do with my time."

  "Well, guess what? This little inductee is telling you you're being a total ass by standing here talking while Vince is dying. If you've got some questions write them down and send them to us via ghost post or however somebody sends messages in this stupid society," I growled.

  Vera raised one of her glowing hands as though to strike me, but Vince's hand snapped out and he caught her wrist. "That's enough," he told her.

  The witch turned to him with the corners of her mouth turned down in a snarl. "I haven't forgotten the rule about you dying with your partner, but this little brat needs to learn some manners. She just can't snap her jaws at anyone she pleases."

  His eyes narrowed and I noticed his grip on her wrist tightened. "I won't let you harm her," he repeated.

  Vera's eyes widened, and they flickered between Vince and me. The tension in the room was broken when she erupted in a laugh. I stepped back and wondered if she'd lost her mind. Vince held tight to her wrist. Vera managed to get a grip on her humor and she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Now isn't this extraordinary? Could the unemotional ancient vampire actually have feelings for a human female?" Vince started back from her proclamation and released her wrist. She rubbed the reddened skin with her glowing hands and the redness disappeared beneath her fingertips. "My my, you have lost much of your grip with that hex. And does my eyes deceive me and I detect a hint of a blush on those pale cheeks of yours?"

  Vince straightened and his lips thinned. "This conversation will only lead to a dead end. Which apartment belongs to the girl?" he insisted.
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  Vera chuckled and sunk onto her plush chair cushions. Her eyes turned their penetrating stare on me. "You've shown me quite the miracle, so I'll tell you. Her room's on the third floor, the first room on the left." She reached into her low-cut dress and pulled out a key. "This will unlock the door." She tossed the key to Vince, who deftly caught the item in one hand.

  Vince bowed his head and strode out the door to the entrance hall. I moved to join him, but paused and half-turned to the witch. "What miracle did I show you?" I asked her.

  Her lips curled up in a smile that held more admiration than mockery. "That a vampire's dormant heart can still beat."

  "We must leave," Vince called from the hallway outside the suite.

  "You'd better hurry. Vincent doesn't like to be kept waiting," she advised me.

  I gave the witch one last scrutinizing gaze before I hurried after my partner.

  Chapter 10

  I found Vince near the elevator doors with a frown on his face. "We don't have time to waste," he scolded me.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but a terrible shrieking noise interrupted my words. It repeated itself over and over again in a loop of high-pitched screaming. The doors to Vera's apartment swung open. "Werewolves have infiltrated the building and are making their way up to the third floor!" she shouted at us.

  Vince turned away from her and slammed his hand on the elevator button. The doors swung open and we hurried inside, but with one extra passenger. Vera joined us. The doors swung shut, and she looked up at the floor dial above the doors. "Where are they now, Mona?"

  The secretary's voice spoke through the dial. "I deactivated all other elevators, but they are taking the stairs and are almost to the third floor."

  Vera frowned. "What about the hex traps?"

  "They're nullifying them with magical tomes," Mona replied.

  Vera slammed her hand against the wall below the button board and growled. "Damn Ruthven and his Books of Blasphemy!"

  "Books of Blasphemy? You mean those books with all the spells?" I asked her.

  She removed her hand from the wall and showed an indent where her magic-enhanced hand left its mark. "Yes. He's gathered much of his perverted magic into those books that have spilled on the market. I didn't think the spells could be mastered by anyone but Ruthven, but this proves me wrong."