“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 whatever 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
