Death's Curses

by Becca Fox

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Did you need something from me?”

  “Yeah. I was going to ask if you could drive me over to the hotel where Angela and Jerald Smith are staying.” I patted my tote bag, which hung at my side. “Gotta return the journal.”

  “Right, right. We can grab breakfast on the way.” Uncle Victor set the file aside and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, Nessie.”

  Vanessa had pulled out a hair tie when we weren’t looking and had tamed her fluffy hair. She tucked her sleeping laptop under her arm and stood with a wink. “I’ll be here.”

  She looked like a model striking a flirty pose in her wrinkled quarter-sleeved top, high rise jeans, and scuffed up boots. Hadn’t she been dead to the world a second ago, snoring and drooling like a normal person? How could she look this good without any preparation?

  By the tortured expression on my uncle’s face, he must’ve been thinking the same thing. Too late, he did his best to erase the open longing from his face. But Vanessa wasn’t clueless. The way she bit her lip. The way her gaze slowly roved over his person. The way her grip on the laptop tightened. She knew he wanted her, and she wanted him just as bad.

  They’d been so good about acting professionally in the past. What changed?

  The sparks were flying more fiercely than ever. No one was around but me. It was the perfect time to act upon their feelings. The romantic music in my head was reaching a crescendo. The two of them leaned toward each other, still holding each other’s gazes. Hope flickered across Vanessa’s face.

  “Oh, would you just kiss already?” I blurted out. “The suspense is killing me!”

  Uncle Victor made a choking sound. He spun around and took me by the arm. Vanessa beamed at me as I was dragged out of the break room.

  “You can’t just say things like that, Jazz,” my uncle rumbled, carting me all the way to the front doors. “Vanessa and I are coworkers. We’re not allowed to date.”

  “And you’re too afraid to ask her out.”

  “Will you keep your voice down?”

  Fortunately, there were only two other people in the precinct at this hour; one of them was confined to the reception desk and the other was sweeping the floors. Uncle Vic nodded at each of them and smiled politely while shouldering his way outside. Then he went back to looking grumpy and embarrassed.

  Charlie and I didn’t look anything like Uncle Victor, what with our dark hair and eyes, and super pale complexions. But when he scowled like that, he totally resembled my brother. It made me smile.

  “Something must’ve happened between you two last night, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so hot and bothered this morning,” I teased.

  Uncle Victor dropped my arm and gawked at me, like I’d just said the “F” word. “What are you—? We didn’t—Nothing happened last night!”

  “Maybe it wasn’t anything to you, but whatever you said or did revealed to Vanessa exactly how you feel about her because she’s not even bothering to hide just how much she wants you.” I poked him in the arm and danced over to his Corolla. “I could’ve cut the sexual tension in the room with a machete.”

  “Jasmine!”

  I did a pirouette when I turned to face him. “Yes?”

  My uncle kept staring at me in confusion and horror. “How do you know what sexual tension is?”

  I blew a raspberry at him. “The internet. How else?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his forehead. “In what universe does my sweet, innocent, sheltered niece know about…? Ugh, my head is splitting open.”

  “Just breathe. You’ll be fine.” I tapped a knuckle against the passenger side door. “Could you unlock the car?”

  My uncle fished his keys out of his pocket with a frown. The car beeped a moment later. I climbed in and watched him amble over.

  “Of course, you’ll feel even better if you finally give into your feelings and go out with Vanessa,” I said as he settled into the driver’s seat.

  “We’ve been over this, Jazz. It’s not a good idea.” Once he’d turned on the car, he put it in reverse. “Healthy relationships aren’t built on secrets and I have plenty of them.”

  “No, Charlie and I have a secret. You can still build a relationship with Vanessa without telling her about it.”

  Uncle Victor shook his head. “You still have a lot to learn about people, Jazz. Trust me when I say it wouldn’t work.”

  “But you guys aren’t happy like this. Wouldn’t it be better to give it a try and fail than to keep wondering and wishing and longing for each other in solitude?” I asked, hugging my torso and batting my eyelashes at him.

  My uncle sighed through his nose, his eyelids drooping as if this conversation was making him tired. “No, because at least this way we can still work together.”

  I pouted. This was always how the conversation ended. Uncle Vic was just too stubborn. I guess all I could do was hope Vanessa made the first move and did it so spectacularly that my uncle couldn’t refuse her. I was convinced that a kiss was all it would take. One amazing, perfectly timed kiss could plow over the last of Uncle Victor’s defenses. I gazed out the window, lost in the “first kiss” scenes of all of the romantic movies I’d watched over the years.

  My thoughts turned to Ralph then. I shook my head, stopping that train before it could leave the station. I couldn’t go there or I’d start to depress myself again. I was on a mission. There was still a hit man and an immortal couple to catch. I had to focus.

  ◆◆◆

  When Angela opened the door to her hotel room and saw me standing there with a box of donuts, she smiled. “Hello.” Then she saw Uncle Victor and looked back at me. “You’re Jasmine.”

  “The one and only. Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all. Please, come in.” She stepped to the side, opening the door wider. Over her shoulder, she said, “Jerald? We have company.”

  There was a squeak of bed springs and then Mr. Smith walked around the corner with a book in his hand. They were both dressed comfortably, her in wool tights and a V-neck sweater, him in worn jeans and a flannel. Once again, I was struck by their contradicting features. Their flawless skin, glossy hair, and pristine bodies; the wisdom and nostalgia of old age in their eyes.

  These two had lived for thousands of years. The thought sent a chill down my spine, but somehow managed to make my heart ignite with envy at the same time. Why in the world would these people, who had seen it all, done it all, learned it all, and traveled around the world several times, want to be mortal?

  I mean, on the one hand, I sort of understood. It must be heartbreaking to know everyone they’d ever loved was dead. Living in fear and never being able to truly settle down obviously took its toll. But, to a person who had been forced to stay in bed and locked away in a precinct all of her life, being free and invulnerable sounded like a dream come true. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to trade curses with them.

  Of course, I felt guilty as soon as I thought that. I’d never wish my existence on anyone else.

  “Hello, again,” Uncle Victor said, ever the professional. “Sorry to drop in unannounced, but I wanted to personally tell you that you are no longer suspects in my investigation. I apologize for any inconvenience. You’re free to leave the city whenever you want. But first, my niece wanted to return your journal.” He nudged me with an encouraging nod.

  I dug around my tote bag and produced the leather-bound book. “It was an incredible read. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

  “Of course.” Angela accepted the book with reverence. “We are family, after all.”

  I tried not to be intimidated by her worshipful expression. I’d come here with a purpose. I couldn’t be distracted. “I have a lot of questions.”

  Angela’s face brightened with child-like excitement. “Good. So do I. Care to sit?” She held a hand out toward the desk and the simple wooden chair sitting beneath the TV which hung on the wall.
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br />   “Sure.” I handed the box of donuts to my uncle and stepped forward, giving Angela an awkward smile.

  We walked together, careful not to brush elbows in the confined space. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room between two small end tables. An alcove before the bathroom sported a counter with a coffee maker on it. Just like in all the hotel rooms in all the movies I’d ever seen. Under different circumstances, I might’ve been more interested in the room since I’d never been in a hotel before, but the questions that had popped up while reading Angela’s diary were back, demanding my full attention.

  “Coffee, Detective?” Jerald asked, pointing at the pot.

  My uncle had just finished a cup but he nodded all the same. “Yes. Thank you.”

  The two of them stepped into the alcove. It must’ve been even more awkward for them, being in such close proximity and having nothing to talk about, but I knew they were trying to give us privacy which I appreciated. I sat in the front desk. Angela plopped down over the edge of the bed, holding the journal against her torso.

  I tugged on the end of my skirt, ran my fingers over the patterns in my tights, crossed and uncrossed my ankles. Finally, I gave a tiny laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous.”

  “It’s perfectly fine.” Angela placed a hand over her heart. “I am too. How can I put you at ease?”

  “Tell me something funny and weird about yourself.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but once I’d thrown it out there, I knew it was the right call. Laughter could break any tension. “For example: I never learned how to whistle. The last time I tried, I managed to bite my tongue.”

  Angela chuckled. “Very well. I’m allergic to sea bass but I absolutely cannot say ‘no’ to a good bowl of ceviche. I pack a box of EpiPens every time we visit Mexico.” She drew in a big gulp of air and held it in, making her whole face puff up like a blowfish.

  I laughed. “Wow. What did you do before EpiPens?”

  “I withstood the itchiness and bloating until it faded away.” She shrugged. “I can survive without breathing so it was only a minor discomfort.”

  “Right.” Pinching an eye shut, I smiled apologetically. “I forgot.”

  She pursed her lips but there was laughter in her eyes.

  The floor unit kicked on, sending a gust of dry, warm air over us.

  I tucked my hair behind my ears. It was time to get serious. Despite my burning desire to pepper her with questions about their travels, I knew we couldn’t sit here all afternoon. I had to prioritize, ask the most important questions first.

  “I’m so sorry.” I twisted my hands in my lap, unable to meet her questioning gaze. “Every word you wrote was laced with sadness and regret, fear and turmoil. You were given a gift but it came at such an enormous price. It’s haunted you, taken everything from you, sent you on a path you never wanted to take. Having read the journal cover to cover, I know—” I blinked hard. “I know you’d do anything to be free of your curse, same as us. But…forgive my naivety, but hasn’t it also been a good thing? Traveling, studying, growing, experiencing, with no physical or monetary limit, with no time restraint: it’s every human being’s dream, isn’t it?”

  Angela lowered the book into her lap and ran a hand over the cover.

  “So, why? Why give it all up to live a mortal life and die, just like everyone else?”

  “We’re still stuck,” Angela said softly. “We have experienced all this world has to offer, except that which we truly desire: to start a family, grow old, die.” She looked up with a pleading expression. “We can never truly know what it means to be alive because we’ll never know death. There is beauty and…meaning in the finite. It’s so difficult to find fulfillment and pleasure in an existence that has no end.”

  I swallowed a great big ball of tears. We were so alike it was almost scary.

  “I’m forced to die the same way people within my radius do,” I found myself admitting. “I visit Death every time, watch her escort souls to heaven or hell, get a glimpse of the peace and freedom in the afterlife, only to be brought back to life again. I’ve tried to kill myself.”

  Angela sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the book.

  “Death intervened. Said neither of us could escape our fate. I don’t know if she’ll ever let me die. In a way, I’m in the same boat as you.” I wiped the tears before they could complete their tracks down my cheeks. “I’m locked away in the precinct to keep the world from witnessing my deaths and questioning my abilities. I can’t live. I can’t die. I just…exist and burden the people who care about me.

  “Charlie gets visions, sees people dying through Death’s eyes or the person doing the killing. He can live a semi-normal life. He’s the one who goes with my uncle to crime scenes. When he’s near the dead bodies, he sees more details about their murders. He can actually help.”

  I heard the bitterness in my own voice and hated it. Jealousy wasn’t something I ever allowed myself to feel toward my brother, not when I knew how much my condition pained him. He would trade places with me in a heartbeat if he could; admitting that I wished I had his ability would only make him feel worse.

  Still, there were times when my feelings bubbled to the surface. As I sat in front of this woman now, who was practically a stranger but still someone I felt that I knew, I didn’t want to hide.

  “I would give anything to have a purpose,” I whispered. “A reason for being here, no matter how small. Every day, I wake up and wonder, ‘Why? What’s the point?’ I mean, I know my family would be wrecked if anything happened to me, but they would survive. They have goals, futures, soul mates to walk with them through this life. Me…”

  Angela reached out to grip my hand and stare so deeply into my eyes that I couldn’t look away. “You are alive, sweet child. You are healthy and smart and strong. That means there is hope. And where there is hope, there is power.”

  I squeezed her fingers, wanting so badly to believe. But, as long as I was cursed, I just couldn’t see the hope or power she was talking about. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

  “I really didn’t come here to complain.” I rubbed my fists against my eyes to get rid of the last tears. “Mr. Ward’s campaign staff is still being targeted.”

  “I would like to help,” Angela said, pulling her shoulders back. “What can I do?”

  “My uncle and brother have figured out the person actually committing these murders is a hit man from Asia, but there’s someone else pulling the strings from a distance.” I nodded at the journal. “I think there are two someones, actually. Your old friends, Fadele and Nij.”

  Angela sighed, setting the book aside as if she couldn’t hold it anymore. “Unfortunately, I can’t say it’s beyond their ability. Their illicit dealings could’ve definitely put them in the same circles as hired guns. What I can’t understand is why. After all these years…”

  “I have a theory.” I told her everything I suspected. “My uncle is bringing the Wards in for questioning. I don’t know if they know anything useful, but we have to ask. Anything they could tell us about the last immortal couple could potentially help us figure out what their current aliases are, where they could be hiding, how we can find them and stop them.” I gripped the armrests of my chair and leaned forward. “When the Wards come for the interrogation, will you?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Will we what?”

  “Will you come and meet with them? Maybe getting everyone in a room together, talking about this, will spark an idea my uncle or I or my brother couldn’t think of.”

  It was a long shot. There was so much history between them, so many years of harboring negative feelings toward each other. But this was our only chance. Vanessa and Uncle Victor still had a lot of case files from Interpol and the FBI to go through; it could take them weeks to find a link between the Salamander and this last immortal couple, weeks in which more innocent people would die.

  “Jerald and I will do whateve
r we can,” Angela said, making me breathe a sigh of relief, “but I’m afraid it won’t be much. As you suspect, we haven’t spoken to Fadele and Nij since we split up in London all those years ago. If Izz and Segil have made this pact, I can’t imagine they know much either.” Angela nodded, brow flat. “But we’ll try. Of course we will.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was still the possibility that I was totally wrong, and Fadele and Nij had nothing to do with this. I didn’t give it much thought. Somehow, I knew we were on the right track.

  I smiled. “I’m sorry. I’ve been doing all of the talking. I’m sure you’ve been dying to ask me your questions.” I flinched at my word choice. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Angela said, holding out a pacifying hand. “I take no offense. I’m afraid you’ll find my questions trite after yours, but I must know.”

  “Ask away.”

  Angela pressed a hand against the mattress and tucked her legs underneath her. “What is Death like? How does she look, how does she speak, how does she seem? Why did she curse us? Do you think she had a purpose or was it simply on a whim? Is it possible that she…?” She took a deep breath. “Do you think she would undo our curse if you asked?”

  I blinked at her. “Uh…”

  “I apologize.” Angela blushed and lowered her gaze. “I’ve wondered for so long.”

  “Oh, I know,” I said with a laugh. “It’s okay. I’m just wondering where to begin. Honestly, I don’t know much. I only remember bits and pieces after coming back from the dead. It’s like a bad dream; the details fade the longer I’m awake. But I’ll tell you what I can.”

  May 24th, 1979

  I am saddened to admit that after years of studying medicine in America and now Switzerland, we have lost our passion for healing. Perhaps we have been studying far too long in a clinical setting that we have lost track of what it feels like to heal people.

  I cherish the knowledge of western medicine and Europe’s clinical treatments, but if I have to fill out another chart for Dymeka, I am going to scream.