by Becca Fox
“You shouldn’t come with us,” I said, pushing away from the bed. “You need to rest.”
Jasmine wiped her eyes with a harsh swipe of her hand. “I’m fine. I’m coming.”
“What do you think, Tony?” Uncle Victor asked.
The doctor examined Jasmine’s face carefully. “Are you up for it, Jazz?”
She nodded curtly. “Yes. I want to go.”
“Are you up for it? You know there’s a difference.”
Jasmine sighed and rubbed her temples, abandoning her determined resolve. “I can take it.”
Anthony nodded. “All right, then. Hurry back.”
“One stumble, one slurred word, and I’m bringing you home,” I said, helping her rise. “Understand?”
Jasmine made a face at me. “Yes, Mom.”
◆◆◆
The vacant building had yellow caution tape over the door and the gate before it. It was scheduled to be demolished next week. Still supporting Jasmine and closely followed by my uncle, I pushed the gate open. My sister cringed when the rusty hinges creaked.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
She tried to smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
We approached the office structure warily. The four other police officers, who had been chosen to accompany us, set up a perimeter before entering. They kicked the door down, hurrying in single file with their guns raised. I pulled Jasmine within the old walls when we’d been given the all clear. She let go of me to approach the dead woman lying on the chipped floor.
My uncle let out a small sound of sympathy.
“She’s so young, and she has such a pretty face. No wonder Death was so happy.” Jasmine knelt with an outstretched hand as if to touch the body. She didn’t; she just left it extended there, a few inches away from the corpse. “How did it happen, Charlie?”
I felt the faint pulses of Death’s presence when I concentrated, like cold drafts in the room. When I mentally reached out to those echoes of cold, I was thrown back in time. Shadows and screams of agony surrounded me. There was a loud snapping of bones before a rope was tied around the woman’s neck and yanked. Fortunately, I couldn’t feel anything. That was Jasmine’s part of the curse. I was just the observer, peeking into this terrible scene through the perspective of the murderer.
When I opened my eyes again, I sat cross-legged beside the corpse; Jasmine crouched next to me like a spiritual totem keeping me grounded in reality. An officer took pictures of the victim and the surrounding area.
“Cause of death was strangulation,” I said. “But she was tortured first. Either we’re dealing with a sadistic bastard”—My uncle grunted as if discouraged at the prospect—“or the killer needed information from the victim and killed her once he’d gotten what he wanted.”
“So the killer was male?” Uncle Victor asked, scribbling away in his notebook.
I nodded. “The hands I saw doing all the damage were definitely male, but he wore gloves. I doubt forensics will find any fingerprints.”
“Anything else?”
I cast my eyes around the room. “There should be some rope lying around here somewhere. It was the murder weapon.”
My uncle called out to the other officers, telling them to search the building for rope.
“Is that all, Mr. Campbell?” Dr. Ochoa timidly asked.
I turned with a start. The medical examiner and her team must’ve arrived while I was in my trance. I nodded at the doctor and she began to examine the body.
The people working with my uncle didn’t know the real reason why he brought his nineteen-year-old niece and nephew to crime scenes. They were told we had psychic powers. Those who doubted stopped doubting when all of our weird predictions started coming true.
“Cause of death does appear to be strangulation, but I’ll know more once I’ve gotten her to the lab,” Dr. Ochoa murmured, gently handling the corpse’s neck. She tugged on a lanyard hidden among the folds of the victim’s blouse. “I think I’ve just found a name for your victim, Detective.”
Uncle Victor squatted down next to me. “What do you have, Doc?”
Dr. Ochoa pulled the section of the gray lanyard up and over the body’s head. Uncle Victor put some synthetic gloves on before he took the lanyard.
Jasmine leaned over to take a look.
“Her name was Ida Mavity. She was David Ward’s press secretary,” my uncle said.
“So someone wanted sensitive information about the mayor,” I said. “Or soon-to-be senator. Or whatever.”
“Charlie,” Jasmine said. “Do you remember the death of the last person you saw? The one who got mugged, shot, and dumped in a garbage truck?”
I nodded. “Yeah, what about him?”
“Do you remember where he worked?”
Uncle Victor answered that one. “According to the report, he had been…Mr. Ward’s political director.” He frowned. “He had been fired just hours before you two sensed his passing.”
I stood. “Whatever information the killer wants, he can’t have gotten it from the first victim. That must be why he came after Ms. Mavity.”
“It’s too early to jump to that conclusion.” My uncle gave the lanyard back to the kneeling medical examiner and straightened out of his crouch. “Let’s head back to the station, kids. We’ll find out the truth soon enough.”
◆◆◆
Uncle Victor parked the car before the North Precinct.
The whole building looked like a giant baby had been playing with blocks and had stacked them haphazardly; one long cement rectangle on the bottom, a thinner glass rectangle up front on its side, and a third wooden rectangle laid horizontally on top. It wasn’t just a symbol of justice and peace, but a work of art. It was one of my favorite buildings in the city.
A pretty little garden had been set up by the front doors with stone walkways weaving in between the plants. A lot of employees took their lunch breaks there, in the shade of the trees. When it wasn’t raining, of course.
Jasmine turned to me almost desperately. “Can’t we go window shopping or something?”
No matter how nice the place looked, it was still her prison. The thought made me sad and mad at the same time.
I opened the door and climbed out. “Anthony will want to see you right away.”
“He won’t mind if I stay out a little longer. Besides, I’m feeling much better now that the body’s gone,” she said, crawling out after me.
Which was probably true, but that didn’t make it okay to go into the city so soon after an episode.
“Jazz—”
“Charles,” she said, mimicking my tone.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. One of the contact lenses slid. Cheap piece of shit. I adjusted the lens as best as I could and blinked several times.
“She does look like she’s gained some color,” my uncle interjected. “You guys should take advantage of the quiet while you still can. Who knows when someone else in your radius will pass?”
I frowned at him. He was supposed to be on my side. We’d talked about this. My uncle gave me an innocent smile.
“Fine,” I snapped. “At least let Anthony know where we’re going.”
Jasmine grinned, the prospect of a field trip making all earlier signs of fatigue evaporate. She led the way into the station. “Just let me grab my contacts and we can go.”
I cast a scowl my uncle’s way before following her inside.
Jasmine spun around to grin at me. “Hey! When we’re done window shopping, do you think we could stop at the tea shop in Pike Place Market?”
“Nobody our age drinks hot tea,” was my rebuttal.
“All the more reason to keep up the tradition. We’re already abnormal. Might as well lean into it!”
“Have fun, you two,” my uncle said before making his way to his desk.
“We will,” Jasmine promised.
My uncle pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and placed it on the desk’s surface. Then he raised his eyebrows at
me as if to say, “Call me if anything happens.”
Who else would I call? I mouthed back. I was still annoyed with him for being such a pushover.
He just kept giving me that expectant look as he slid into his swivel chair.
The rest of the journey through the precinct was quiet between me and Jazz. All around us, people talked on their phones, typed on their computers, and took statements from strangers. These visitors gawked at my sister and I as we walked past but the officers barely paid us any mind. After four years of watching Jasmine skipping through the halls with me as her skulking shadow, I guess they were over it.
Jasmine took my hand once we were in the elevator. “Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles.”
I glanced at her. Her bright pink knitted sweater was too long for her. The dark leggings and rain boots made her look like a child. Her large eyes and lack of curves didn’t help her seem any more mature.
God, I really didn’t want to take her out. She was so determined to enjoy things, anything, but I knew how much pain she was in. I saw it every time she died and was bedridden. After a field trip sometimes, when she thought no one was looking, she looked so sad and tired. Being inside all the time frustrated her, but being outside didn’t help her either.
I wanted to keep her here, where she was safe, where we could take care of her, where there were few reminders of the life she couldn’t have. Where the prying eyes of this obnoxiously curious city couldn’t reach her. Uncle Victor thought we should do whatever it took to make Jasmine happy. It was hard to be the bad guy when I wanted to make my sister happy too. She deserved it. But, no matter what we did, she could never actually be happy, at least not for very long. I would do anything to free her from this curse, even if it meant bearing the entire weight of it myself.
Jasmine’s face softened. “You’re thinking again. You know what it does to you.”
I tore my gaze away from hers and glared at the elevator door. That was the worst part of this waking nightmare; I couldn’t help her. Not really.
“Did anything interesting happen at school today?”
“Some girl walked in on me while I was taking a leak.”
Jasmine laughed.
That made me loosen up a little.
“Wish I could’ve been there to see the look on your face! Why’d she go into the boys’ restroom?”
I slid the metal slate aside and let her exit the elevator first. “She’s new. She’s still learning it isn’t a good idea to mess with Randi. From the looks of her, I’d say she enjoys messing with people like Randi just to get a reaction from them.”
A mischievous smile formed across Jasmine’s face. “Was this new girl cute?”
I thought of that fearless smirk, those defiant eyes, and the switchblade she hadn’t hesitated to whip out the minute I’d pissed her off. No. I didn’t think anyone would dare call her cute.
I forced myself to scoff. “She was wearing a vest over a shirt with a flying pig on it. Who does that?”
“Someone who belongs in Seattle,” was Jasmine’s reply. “We’re back, Anthony!”
The doctor sat at Jasmine’s desk, but looked up when we came in. “How’d it go?”
“A young secretary from the mayor’s office was murdered,” I said. “Someone’s trying to intimidate and/or learn secrets about Mr. Ward.”
“It’s Charlie’s theory anyway. Uncle Vic’s doing research as we speak,” Jasmine said. “I’m feeling much better now so we’re going window shopping. Want to come with?”
“Maybe next time.” Anthony gestured to the pages arrayed before him. “I still have several more of your papers to go over.”
Jasmine tssked. “All work and no play makes Tony a dull boy.”
The doctor turned back to his work with a little smile. “Have fun.”
October 24th, 1720
My fear has been realized.
Segil and Izz found my journal and confronted Dymeka and me. They accused us of treachery and betrayal. They even recruited Nij and Fadele to accuse us of perfidy. My intentions were always rooted in the deepest of affection, never animosity. We were merely concerned with the manner of their behavior. The men began to quarrel, nearly ending in blows, while the women scorned me. But Dymeka stepped away and hid me from their disparaging glances. The two couples allowed us to leave their company in memory of what once was, or so they said.
We took our belongings and tearfully left the town house we had been residing in in London. We lived there for five years. In comparison to all our past abodes, London seemed like home. In truth, this was simply because we lived there the longest. But now we had nowhere to go; no relatives or relations of any kind. Our only true acquaintances were our immortal brethren.
Now we have no place in the world. My only comfort is that Dymeka is still by my side.
I know I shan’t weep for the betrayal of my friends for long. Those couples were growing far too tempestuous to be together for long. I know the reason for their mistrust. It is the reason Dymeka took me and fled without hesitation. Our curse has rules: chiefly, that we remain immortal only until one of the six intentionally kills one of us. I would never do it, not after the many lifetimes we have spent together. However, I cannot say with certainty what they would do, at least not after tonight’s events.
Dymeka no longer has any faith in our brethren. He is determined we change our aliases and start anew in a different land. While we have, on countless occasions, done so, this instance we are not hiding from suspicious neighbors. We are hiding from our cursed brethren. I have never feared for my own life, for no illness or mortal can slay me. I had no need to fear Death but tonight was the first night, of which I am certain there will be many, where I feared for my future and that of Dymeka’s.
* * *
Chapter 3
Esmeralda
I tied a bandana around my head and flexed an arm in the mirror. “We can do it!”
“Quit fooling around up there and get started!” my aunt shrieked from downstairs.
I slouched out of my confident posture and wrinkled my nose at my reflection. I didn’t know what was worse; cleaning or the thought of tackling the mountain of homework I’d been given. It was my first day. Who gave students homework on the first day? Apparently, all of my teachers.
I heaved a mournful sigh before leaving my room. My aunt had already gathered all the cleaning supplies I might need, piled them into a bucket, and left them in the hall. A vacuum sat next to the bucket. I grabbed a handle in each hand and proceeded to the head of the stairs. The mansion was old enough to still have mahogany floors. Creaks sounded under my feet. There would be no sneaking around while I was staying here, not with the old bat’s freakishly keen hearing.
“Where should I start?” I called down the stairs.
From this vantage point, I saw my aunt sitting in the pink plush chair across the fireplace in the sitting room. She seemed to be knitting something while watching her soap opera.
Aunt Dinah turned just slightly to holler back, “Start with the rooms at the end of the hall. Those are the ones that have been vacant the longest.”
“Wicked,” I muttered. “Dust city.”
I wasn’t wrong. My eyes welled up and my nose started twitching just after I opened the door of the farthest guest room. I sneezed multiple times before I was even able to get a good look at the room.
It was larger than mine, I noted with annoyance.
It had a queen-sized bed, matching bedside tables, a dresser, a window, and a closet. Dust particles danced in the light streaming in through the pale-yellow curtains. I strapped on a circular mask to protect my nose and got to work.
I was marching downstairs with a pile of dusty sheets and pillowcases half an hour later, tired and frustrated. “I ain’t gonna survive cleaning this place. I sneezed so much I’m pretty sure I threw my back out.”
“You’re fine,” the old lady said without even bothering to look away from her knitting.
I g
ave her the stink eye before turning the corner and loping into the laundry room. Once I’d tossed the sheets into the linen basket, I removed the mask from my sweaty face. I stopped in the kitchen for a glass of iced tea and wandered back to the sitting room. Leaning an elbow against the back of my great aunt’s chair, I took a sip.
I grimaced at the bitter taste and forced myself to swallow. “You gotta buy something other than tea, Grandma.”
She harrumphed. “Why?”
“We youngsters need stuff with more flavor. Juice, soda, lemonade, anything other than tea.”
My aunt pursed her lips for a moment. “I’ll consider it.”
“That’s mighty big of you. Thanks.” I glanced at the TV. “Whatcha watching?”
Aunt Dinah slapped her knitting project down over her knees. “Don’t you have homework to do?”
I pushed away from the chair, making faces at the back of her head. Then I retreated to the stairs.
“You keep doing that and your face is going to get stuck that way.”
I spun around, but my great aunt had returned to her knitting. I loudly imitated one of her harrumphs and went to my room. Placing the glass of iced tea on my dresser, I decided to continue my quest to get the window open. The old bat had included WD40 in the bucket of cleaning supplies so I used some of it on the hinges. I opened the window as far as it would go and took a deep, greedy breath. The autumn breeze felt so good on my warm face. After snatching the pack of cigarettes from my messenger bag, I sat on the windowsill and enjoyed my afternoon smoke.
Peering down at the little package, I realized I only had five cigarettes left.
Well, that would be the end of my “disgusting” habit. Aunt Dinah gave me a whopping five dollars for lunch every day. I had a better chance of stealing from her impenetrable bedroom and convincing her it was the neighbor’s cat than getting a job. I wouldn’t have much energy to work after my daily chores anyway. I took another drag and blew the smoke out through my nose.