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around all the time. They can’t stay in one place too long or people start
     to notice they’re not aging. So why are vamps thinking others are missing?”
    “This is different. Some say they’ve been snatched. There’re even rumors that there’s some kind of cure to vampirism and that
     those who were treated successfully have taken up a mortal life again. So far, no one’s come forward to say what’s true and
     what’s not. There are even articles about the disappearances posted on some of the vamp news feeds.”
    She studied the drawings. “Hmm, I guess it wouldn’t be the same to have the pictures of the missing vampires plastered across
     blood bags, would it?”
    He looked up and grinned at her reference to a vampire version of pictures of missing children once posted on milk cartons.
     “Hey! How did it go with your deadbeat client? Did he pay up?”
    “Of course he did. With a little help from moi. ” She held up her wiggling fingers. “A cookie jar, not to mention pretty much the entire house, cursed by your dead, but
     totally insane, mother-in-law is nothing to ignore.” She grinned as she performed an impromptu soft shoe on the polished hardwood
     floor. “Martin ‘The Sleaze Bag’ Reynolds learned his lesson to the tune of five extremely big ones.”
    Krebs let loose a low whistle. “That’s some markup from your original fee.”
    “Expanded curse, expanded fee. Plus he totally pissed me off.” Her bunny slippers starting singing an off-key ditty as she
     continued her dance. “I warn my clients up front there are consequences if they cheat me out of my fee. Martin learned just
     what those consequences could be. He’s lucky I didn’t make it worse.” She walked over to the small refrigerator set in a corner
     of the room and rummaged inside. She cast aspersions on a man who couldn’t bother offering fat and cholesterol-filled snacks
     to his visitors. She finally settled on a butterscotch pudding cup. “I don’t know what I enjoyed more—seeing his mother-in-law’s
     face pop out of the Picasso hanging over his mantel or the way he panicked when he realized how long it would take him to
     bury all the pieces from the cursed antique cookie jar I broke.”
    “And you know your antiques well,” he murmured.
    “No age jokes, thank you very much.” Further exploration among napkins and single-size nondairy creamers earned her a plastic
     spoon that looked reasonably clean.
    “Exactly how old are you?”
    Although Jazz had related bits and pieces of her history to Krebs, she hadn’t told him everything. A woman had to have a few
     secrets, after all.
    She merely smiled, “Old enough.”
    She walked over to one of the front-facing windows and looked out. The brightly lit amusement park rides at the nearby boardwalk
     were easily seen from where she stood. The immense multi-colored disk doubling as a Ferris wheel overlooking the ocean lent
     magick to the night. One of the reasons she loved the house was that it was only a ten-minute walk to the beach and boardwalk
     when she needed a cotton candy and carnival ride fix.
    Krebs glanced up from his work and noticed her pensive expression. “You’re not exactly dressed for the boardwalk, love. Plus
     I thought your man-eating slippers were considered bunny non grata after their last visit.”
    Jazz laughed as one of her slippers snarled a response. “They’re convinced they were framed. Fluff said there was no way he
     could eat an entire man on his own. And Puff had a sore throat that day.”
    Krebs gave a mock shudder. “Jazzy, love, I’m glad you’re on my side.”
    She hitched herself back up onto the table and polished off her pudding.
    “In the wastebasket, please.” Krebs glared at the cup she set on the table. She wrinkled her nose at him and executed a perfect
     toss into the basket by his chair.
    Jazz sat quietly, content to watch Krebs work his own brand of magick. She doubted he’d appreciate knowing she thought