by Becca Fox
Charlie’s jaw was clenched real tight by the end. He pulled me into his side and held me close while I cried quietly into his shirt.
“You can tell me ‘no’ whenever you want.” He pressed a quick, awkward kiss to the top of my head. “No questions, no judgment. I promise we’ll only go as far and as fast as you’re comfortable with.”
He sounded angry, but I knew it wasn’t because of me. Marty would destroy Charlie in a fight and yet I knew right then and there that Charlie would jump at the opportunity to punch Marty’s teeth in. If Charlie sounded uncomfortable now it was because he wasn’t used to talking to someone about this stuff; I understood. He was being completely genuine with his promise. I knew I could trust his word. I gulped down grateful tears and burrowed farther into his side.
To lighten the mood, I told him about my shopping adventure with my mom next. It seemed to help a bit.
Jasmine was all about the silence. We sat together, holding hands and staring at the sleeping detective during her shift. Every once in a while, she’d smile sadly at me, as if thanking me for being there. I would squeeze her hand in reply.
Vanessa made calls. She contacted the policemen and EMTs who had beaten her to the scene of the crime, and interrogated them ad nauseam. She wanted to know every little detail about the hit; who was there, what they’d seen, how they’d reacted, what the scene had looked like before and afterward. Vanessa, unlike Victor, took notes on a tablet, her fingers flying.
Then she spoke to the head of city-wide security, asking about the traffic cameras that had managed to record the horrible act, and how fast the footage could be released to the precinct. She phoned a judge to get the necessary warrant for the footage and made a passionate speech to persuade the man to expedite her request. All the while, she sipped the horrible hospital coffee and glanced at Victor with so much guilt and anguish in her dark eyes it was heartbreaking.
I finally nodded off at three in the morning. I just couldn’t fight the exhaustion anymore. I woke up with a terrible backache and a new-found respect for Charlie, who’d spent weeks sitting at my bedside when I was in the hospital. Probably in the same type of chair. It was proof he’d loved me even then. I teased him about it as we watched the sun rise through the window. He rolled his eyes and shoved a chocolate donut in my face to get me to shut up.
Vanessa went back to her place at seven. She would shower and change and then head to the precinct to continue working. She promised she’d get an address for the couple responsible for the hit and set up a surveillance team. She would find something to convict them, to force them to call off the Salamander. Jasmine hugged her. Charlie shook her hand. Before she left, Vanessa kissed Victor’s cheek and whispered something in his ear. Then she walked out with a look that could kill. She’d get justice for her man one way or another. I wished I could be there to see it happen.
Almost immediately after Vanessa left, Jasmine’s doctor burst onto the scene. He was younger than I thought he’d be, smart-looking, and handsome with his curly brown hair and angular face. I’d only caught his name spoken once or twice. It was either Andy or Anthony. I couldn’t remember. Honestly? I didn’t think he was that close to the Campbells. But when I stepped out of the room so he could see Victor, I saw Jasmine throw her arms around the doctor. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. He looked a little frazzled but he didn’t hesitate to return her embrace with just as much force. It occurred to me then; this guy was Dad #2. He loved the twins like they were his own, and probably thought of Victor as his brother. For that, I respected him instantly.
◆◆◆
“You should go home.”
I looked up from the hospital cafeteria burger I’d been psyching myself up to eat. “You want me to leave?”
Charlie took a bite from his macaroni and cheese, scrunched his face, and promptly spat into his napkin. Shuddering, he pushed his lunch tray away. “I don’t want you to leave but you don’t have an obligation to stay here any longer. You’ve been here all night; that’s more than most people would’ve stayed. You deserve a hot shower, some real sleep, and good food.”
“I’m fine,” I said, because I honestly was. I mean, I had a headache and my body hurt, but I was glad to be there. It felt like I was helping.
Charlie sighed. “Would you just complain about something already and make me want you to leave at least a little?”
I smothered a grin. “Your breath smells like bad cheese.”
“Go home,” he deadpanned.
“Yes, sir.”
“But come back later,” he murmured, lowering his gaze.
I reached across the table to take his hand. “I will.”
Chapter 38
Jasmine
I was staring at a vending machine when Angela Smith came walking toward me. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, but I had to get a good look to believe it was really her. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. Her very practical rain boots, jeans, and jacket did nothing to distract from her beauty, subtle though it was.
What was she doing here? I was pretty sure Uncle Victor’s almost-murder had made it into the news by now, but I never thought…
“I came as soon as I heard,” she said, reaching out to take my shoulders in her hands. She peered into my face, her ancient eyes taking me all in. “How are you feeling?”
“Raw,” was the only word that came to mind. “Like my heart has major road rash.”
Without preamble, she pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
I blinked back tears as I returned her embrace.
“How is your brother?” Angela asked, breaking the hug.
“Angry. Restless. Agonizing over what he could’ve done differently to avoid this.” I scoffed. “As if anyone could’ve seen this coming.”
“And your uncle? Has there been any improvement?” Angela gestured to the waiting room and then we walked back there together.
“None. The doctors warned us that he could be in a coma for several weeks, maybe longer.” I rubbed the tips of my fingers across the underside of my eyes as they began to water. “Even after he wakes up, he’ll have a long road to recovery.” I dropped into one of those awful plastic chairs, sighing down at my hands. “I hate just sitting here. I wish there was something I could do.”
“Have you asked…?” Angela took a cursory glance around before lowering herself into the chair next to me. “Have you asked Death to spare your uncle?”
Mr. Smith came ambling around the corner with two coffee cups in his hands. He sat next to his wife and handed her one of the cups, nodding politely in my direction. It was hard to read him. He could’ve been bored or tired or uncomfortable about being in a hospital, visiting with people he didn’t know very well. All because his wife felt a connection to me. I scrutinized him out of the corner of my eye. I was almost touched that he was here when he didn’t have to be, but I knew too much about their curse to let that feeling fully materialize.
He was here for his wife, not for us. And while the thought was sweet, it just depressed me even more. So I turned back to Angela. “Why would she listen to me?”
“You hold a certain power over Death, Jasmine,” the immortal woman said. “You realize, of the eight people she cursed, you are the only one who’s allowed to see her regularly, to speak with her and receive answers from her?”
“Receive answers?” I echoed with a bitter chuckle. “Hardly.”
Angela pointed at me with a twinkle in her eye. “But she does speak to you. She could choose not to; she has proven that with Jerald and I, who have sought her earnestly for centuries.”
She had a point there...
I shook my head. “Asking her to let my uncle live wouldn’t make any difference. She admitted she has power over the body and soul, but she doesn’t control who goes and when. That knowledge she gets from something else.” I twirled my hands in the air at the confusing impossibility of it all. “She compared it to instinct. I don’t know. It was weird.”
“And yet she spared you and your twin when you were babes,” Angela said, her thoughtful gaze shifting away from me. “She took away your ailments, made you healthy as if you’d always been. What allowed her to make the choice at that point in time?”
“I…don’t know,” I murmured, because I hadn’t thought of it, “but if she’s too afraid of draining away the rest of her power to try and undo our curses, she’s not going to exert herself trying to fix my uncle just because I say ‘pretty please.’”
Angela sipped her coffee and shook her head at her husband to communicate her befuddlement. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
“She exhausted some of her power once and gave the twins two recurring abilities,” Angela finally said. “Why is some of her power not taken from her every time Jasmine visits the land of the dead or when Charles gets a vision of the dying?”
Mr. Smith shrugged. “Perhaps it works like a spell that’s cast once and lasts forever?”
“I don’t know,” I was forced to say a second time. “I guess I’ll have to ask the next time I see her.”
“You forced her into your presence when you—” Angela pressed her lips together, regarding me with a squinty-eyed look of remorse.
“When I tried to commit suicide,” I said to prove she hadn’t offended me by bringing it up.
“Why then, I wonder?”
“Suicide is an act against nature, same as murder,” Mr. Smith surprised us by saying. “Death is a force of nature after all. Perhaps both terrible acts disrupt her designated course, force her in a different direction?”
“Or, in my case, force her into action,” I said. “She didn’t want to let me go for some reason.”
“Like I said.” Angela tucked a knuckle under my chin, raised my face, and looked at me like a jewel appraiser might. “You’re valuable, Jasmine Campbell. Death needs you. If she didn’t have your companionship and the knowledge that at least one human being understands her plight, what would she have?”
It was almost like she knew I needed to be validated, like she sensed how helpless I felt, just sitting there. Waiting for Vanessa to find the third immortal couple. Waiting for the Salamander to be caught. Waiting for Death to make up her mind about my uncle. I was so grateful for her words; I almost cried in earnest. I swallowed the knot in my throat and gave a tiny nod. It was all I could manage but I think she understood.
Angela dropped her hand, her kind smile lingering. Then her focus shifted to something behind me. The three of us stood.
Charlie came toward us, talking to someone on his cell phone. He looked about as well as I felt. Anthony had offered to drive us both to the precinct for a shower and a nap, but neither of us had been willing to go.
“Thanks, Vanessa. I’ll be over in a few minutes,” my brother said before he hung up. He managed a less-cranky-than-usual frown for the Smiths. “Hi, again.”
“Hello, Charles,” Angela said, suddenly antsy. She tapped her fingers against her coffee cup. Shifted from foot to foot. “I’m so sorry about your uncle. Believe me; we didn’t come here to ambush your sister in her vulnerable state. We merely—”
“I believe you,” he muttered.
Angela beamed.
I didn’t know why she cared so much about what he thought but I was glad he was trying to be nice to her. She’d been so kind to me, after all.
“It’s actually a really good thing you guys are here.” He glanced at Mr. Smith too when he said this. “I have to—I need to—” He growled softly, shoving his phone into his pocket. He addressed Angela’s shoes when he finally said, “I need your help.”
“Of course, anything,” Angela said. Belatedly, she looked to her husband for approval, which he gave with a slow nod.
“Vanessa thinks she’s found your friends, or at least where they’re pretending to live.”
We all perked up at this.
“She’s setting up a surveillance team. Her plan is to follow them around for a few days and wait for them to mess up.” Charlie shook his head, finally mustering the courage to look up at the Smiths. “That’s not good enough for me. It’s not good enough for her either, honestly, but she said it was the only thing she could do…other than send someone in with a wire and try to get Mr. and Mrs. Velazquez to confess.”
“They would never confess,” Mr. Smith said dismissively. “They trust no one.”
“But they might be more willing to open their doors to someone they know,” Angela said. “Someone who could perhaps plant a listening device in their home.”
Charlie didn’t say anything, just held her gaze.
The Smiths shared concerned looks before angling themselves away slightly and having another one of their telepathic conversations. This one was particularly short.
“We’ve been passive long enough,” Angela said, pulling her shoulders back. “These deaths must end. If we can help the Campbells, we should.”
“We have survived by remaining as far away from our brethren as possible,” her husband hissed. “Now you want to go into their home? Spy on them? Be the reason they go to prison? Meeting with Izz and Segil in a precinct was one thing. Meeting Fadele and Nij where they’re strongest and giving them a reason to seek vengeance against us is madness. I won’t allow it.”
“In all our years, we’ve given them no reason to harm us,” his wife insisted. “If we come to them, appear weak and in need of their protection—”
“This is not our problem.” Mr. Smith flung a hand behind him. “This investigation involves Izz and Segil. Let them risk their lives to end it.”
“They won’t. You know this. The responsibility to protect their employees”—Angela gestured to me and Charlie—“to protect those who want to bring Fadele and Nij to justice, falls on us.” Blinking back tears, she let her hand drop. “This feud began with me.”
Mr. Smith shook his head. “No.”
“With the doubts I was foolish enough to write down in my silly journal,” she continued, her voice shaking.
“You can’t blame yourself. Our relationships with them were already on unsteady ground by the time—”
“It must end with me.” Angela pressed a hand against her chest, looking up at her husband through wet lashes. “It must.”
Mr. Smith looked like he wanted to argue further. Instead, he exhaled and shook his head. “This won’t fix the rift between us. We’ll still be cursed, able only to die at each other’s hands.”
“Behind bars, Fadele and Nij won’t be able to do as much damage. Also, doing this could begin to erase the bitterness between us and Izz and Segil. We’ll still be cursed, yes, but we’ll be in a better state than we were before.” Angela took his hand. “I won’t go without you. As in all things, we must be united.”
Her husband nodded, seemingly exhausted by the discussion. After staring into Angela’s eyes for a moment longer, he leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. When Mr. Smith looked back at Charlie, he said, “We’ll help you.”
Angela gave him a proud, tearful smile.
Charlie finally released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you. Vanessa and her team will be watching the whole time. They’ll step in if it looks like you guys are in trouble. They’ll do everything they can to make sure you get out of there in one piece. I promise.”
“I believe you,” Angela said. “All I ask in return is that you would allow us to visit you and your sister more regularly from now on.”
My brother squirmed uncomfortably but said, “Yeah, sure,” before changing the subject. “As soon as Anthony comes back from the bathroom, I’ll have him take me to the precinct. I’ll shower and change, and then meet you guys in the lobby. We’ll meet up with Vanessa afterward. She’ll give you more details.”
The Smiths nodded.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Charlie said, giving me a quick one-armed hug. “Look after Uncle Vic for me.”
“I will.” Wrapping both arms around his neck, I whispered in his ear, “I’m
so proud of you.”
He shrugged me away, red-faced. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”
I gave Angela a hug next and wished her luck.
“We’ll see each other again soon,” she murmured into my hair.
“Whatever happens, I’m glad to have met you.” When we pulled away from each other, I smiled at Mr. Smith. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” he murmured. “There’s no guarantee this will work.”
It had to work. We didn’t have any other ideas.
December 13th, 2005
A bit of shame still resides in me since leaving Africa. We felt like failures. We still do at times. But we’re slowly feeling like ourselves again.
We’ve been staying on one of the islands of Iceland for a few years now. It’s just been the two of us in a small fishing cabin by the shore.
The ocean, the rain, the ice, the cold air have all been so comforting.
This has been the best form of therapy that we can think of for our circumstances. But this therapy, deserved or undeserved, must end sometime. I don’t know when but I feel the time is soon approaching.
Remaining stagnant for more than a few years in one abode has proven problematic in the past. But our setting here on the cold shore has allowed us to feel safe instead of confined. We have been working with people for far too long. We “burnt out” as the saying goes. And solitude has calmed our aching souls.
But it’s been long enough. We are nomads, after all. Always moving.
I know that, were we mortals in these times, settling down would be a far more desirable goal, having only a few years to spend. But in eternity, staying in one place indefinitely is not desirable.
No. It is time to go.
* * *
Chapter 39
Charles