Levi looked pretty shaken by running into the Aventador so easily. None were persuaded it was a coincidence.
Murder looked at the photos on Levi’s phone.
Maxwell asked her to airdrop them to his iPad. She looked at Grant who had slid his Android phone back into his pocket as if he were whistling, looking at the sky, and saying “nothing to see here.” It was adorable.
He saw her looking at him and smiled. She melted a little. She almost smiled back but couldn’t. She was too sad about Giselle.
Maxwell had an idea. “Levi, can you set up another meeting with this Colin? Police can be nearby. But we need to find out if it’s the same car. We have tire tracks, etc. Seems likely to me that whoever shot at Murder also killed Giselle and wants very much to pin that on her.
Levi sent Colin another message.
Sorry about that. I was really wanting to meet another Protector. Especially such a handsome bloke.
My sister was the last person to see someone alive today! Crazy huh? Anyway, I’ve posted her bail, and I'm looking to kick back with a little special brew.
Grant raised an eyebrow. “Special brew? Is that legal?”
Murder smiled.
Maxwell answered. “Potions. Honestly, if you think he wants to kill you, that’s kind of a crazy idea.”
Grant was flummoxed. “You know about all this… stuff too? How did you keep that from me when we were partners, Rick?”
“You found out once, but since you were a No-Maj, I had to Obliviate you.” He made a flick with his wrist at him.
Murder and Levi both giggled because it just hit them that Maxwell looked a whole lot like Jacob Kowalski from the Fantastic Beasts films.
“Oh, it’s a Henry Potter joke.” Grant laughed.
“Harry,” all three of the others said simultaneously.
“Whatever. I’m more an Asimov or Bradbury guy myself.”
“Anyway, I studied for Mage back in College,” Maxwell continued. “My teacher told me I should be a cop after I blew up the fifth potion,” he chuckled.
Murder leaned into the table a bit. “Has anyone ever told you that—”
“Yes. So often that I grew the mustache to drive the point home.”
***
Can’t tonight
but I’m glad to hear from you so soon.
I really thought you might be giving me the old blow-off.
Sorry, it took me a day to get back to you, terribly busy at work.
Levi looked at the phone. “You only seem to be involved with whomever tried to kill my sister. Why would I blow you? Off, or any other direction for that matter.”
Murder shot him a pout. “I’m so sorry, Levi. I’m always ruining your dates. To that end, would you want to accompany Grant and me to Only Angels Have Wings? The Film Forum is showing it with live piano. Can you believe he’s never seen a Cary Grant film?”
“Aw. That’s very kind of you to offer. And, interesting as it sounds to watch your new beau look into a creepy, yet handsome, mirror for two hours, I think being a third wheel might be even more depressing than sitting here in the dark peeling my own grapes. Besides, it isn’t your fault. These people are clearly bat-guano-insane, And I don’t mean that as the compliment I usually make it out to be.”
“I think maybe if I lose myself an old film for a little while I could forget that Giselle is gone, at least for the tiniest moment. It’s horridly wrong that everyone can’t simply live forever.” The doorbell rang.
“You expecting Grant so early?”
“No, not at all. I was going to pick him up.”
They quietly tiptoed towards the door to check the peephole, but before they could get there, they heard a voice. As they crept closer, the voice got louder.
“Murder, darling, are you in there?” They looked at each other, eyes as wide and faces as shocked as if they were being visited by haints. They exclaimed in unison:
“Giselle?”
Murder sniffed the air. “That’s Absolute Osmanthus!” She had only ever smelled the fragrance once, but it had burned itself into her memory forever.
“Clive Christian?” Levi asked, rhetorically.
Murder rushed for the door.
Levi grabbed her arm, his expression stern and intent. “I’ll get that. We wouldn’t want your name to become your state.” He opened the door, and it was indeed Giselle, looking as fantastic and alive as she ever had.
***
They had all sat on the sofa for Giselle’s story. Murder cried once more. Joyful tears. She clung to her arm as if she might not ever let go again.
“So, as usual, I botched the job. Never forget that you and I were the clumsiest models ever, but it did land me in that really old billionaire’s lap!” Giselle laughed at how she related everything back to that moment. A good story is worth repeating.
Levi was still wrapping his head around the situation. “So, instead of Agelessness, your mage accidentally made it so if you died you’d come back as an Undead?
“You missed the point, darling. If you’re dead, you cannot become Ageless. My mistake was wanting to hold off and live as much of my normal life as I could.”
Murder smiled and laughed at her. “Only you would turn up here Undead with a ten thousand dollar bottle of enchanted perfume that not only halted your decay but covered any scent.”
“Twenty thousand dollars, love.” Levi was referencing the ten thousand dollar fee for enchanting the bottle. He shook his head at the thought. “Good thing you’re a billionaire?”
“About that. I don’t need to keep so much. I’ve decided to become a multimillionaire instead. I’m giving 30 percent to your fund, and 40 to Jack’s.” Murder cocked her head at her dear friend. “Why would you give so much to my women’s music education fund?”
“Because it’s the right thing. What good is it doing sitting in a bank account getting dusty?”
Levi grinned. “It's digital. It doesn’t get dusty.”
“The point remains.”
“You’re right,” Murder said as she hugged her dear friend and former coworker tightly. “He’s just jealous that he cannot be so generous!”
They all laughed.
The question burned in Murder’s mind. The question that had given birth to and sparked many a book, movie, TV show, or board game. “So tell me. Whodunnit?”
“Whoever it was did it when my back was turned. I was literally stabbed in the back!”
“I’m sure you know my other burning question…” Murder’s eyes widened as she awaited impatiently for the biggest answer of them all.
“I never left my body, darling.” Giselle frowned. Murder sighed, realizing she might not ever know if there was an afterlife until she arrived there. Or, until she didn’t.
“So can we call Maxwell now, Giselle?” Levi raised an eyebrow at her. “ We need to clear Murder’s name.”
“Absolutely. Does he really look that much like Kowalski?”
Levi and Murder fell into intoxicating, side-splitting laughter.
***
Murder had driven to where Grant told her he would be. A nursing home?
Grant knew Murder would be approximately fourteen minutes late. He met her at the front entrance.
As she exited the green Jaguar, her long red hair caught the wind. She shook it all ever so slightly with a graceful roll of her head. She was wearing her signature green, a dress with exposed shoulders and gloves that went almost all the way up. He realized he was standing with his jaw agape. He shook it off.
She put her arm around his waist. He pulled her close to him. They had their first kiss in front of the nursing facility.
“There’s someone inside I’d like you to meet. I’m glad your friend is... well, I don't understand what happened, but I'm glad. You seem so much better than you were yesterday.”
“Thank you. I was pretty lucky to be with someone like you at the time. I'm not much for letting a man take care of me, and It's rare to find one who can. I really appreciate it, so much.”
In the room was a very old woman. Grant introduced her as Ethel, his grandmother who had raised him, along with his grandfather, Grant Noble. Grant was the third of his name.
Murder realized that Ethel could barely see her. She had no idea who Grant was at the moment, and she didn’t think the old woman even knew her own name anymore.
“Grant, this is so sad.”
“Why? I wanted to bring you home to meet my parents. Grandma Ethel is the only one I have left, and it felt like I might be running out of time. She likes you, I can tell.” Ethel held her hand out to Murder. The latter felt her eyes get slightly wet. It was a mix of sadness and deep respect for the woman who raised this beautiful boy to be, as far as she could see, a good man. She couldn’t do it. She let go and left the room.
Grant followed her into the hall. “I’m sorry. I…”
“No, it’s fine. It’s my issue. I’ve been exposed to extra age and death and grieving lately. I’m used to ignoring the mortal condition.”
“We can leave. I just thought she might like to see me with a proper old lady.” He winked, and she punched his shoulder.
“I’ll go back in and visit. It’s very sweet that you pay attention to her. In spite of her condition.”
“Nah. Some days it’s different. She tells me a story, and she’s all there. I’m always afraid I’m missing that moment when I’m not here.”
Inside, Murder kissed Ethel’s hand. “You’ve raised a man who’s beautiful on the inside. It’s a damn shame he’s so homely.”
Ethel laughed! Then they all laughed, and Ethel fell asleep.
***
The experience of a convertible on a clear night was a new one for Grant Noble. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to look at the stars or his date. He found an angle where he could see both. Heaven.
“I watch movies about people like me,” she told him, smiling, “the gifted person always wants to be human, or normal, or whatever. I’m always yelling at the screen calling them out for being whiny and ungrateful. Who wants their brain to fail them, or for their body to get old? Did you know I’ve never had an ache? I’ve had pain when it was forced on me by another. But I’m young, beautiful, and rich, and I will be as long as I’m careful. Is that shallow? Am I missing something?”
“Maybe it’s aches that make us human?”
“Wow…”
“What?”
“Oh, That statement is a little cheesy and cliché sounding. Like one of the hundreds of songs about scars.”
Grant reached across and touched her green dress. It was softer than he had figured. “I'm guessing you’re perfect under there. You’d probably be more inclined to songs about scars if you had any.”
She placed his hand on her thigh under the dress. “See for yourself.” She smirked as he caressed her thigh, and his finger found the edge of her lace panties. She moved his hand back down to the middle of her thigh. “Not yet, Mr. Grant,” she laughed.
“As long as we’re already getting personal,” he continued, exploring her soft perfect skin without going above where she’d placed his hand, “I have a couple of questions related to your intentions. What about children? Do you have any? And don’t worry, this question isn’t a dealbreaker.”
She frowned and placed his hand on top of her dress.
“I’m sorry. I’ve said the wrong thing?”
“Dealbreaker, as it relates to relationships, is kind of a trigger word. As a thirteen-year-old girl, I was sold to a boy’s family to be his bride. The deal involved goats, sheep, and access to certain trade routes. Although I’m less bothered by it now than I used to be.”
“Noted. I won’t use that phrase anymore.” She lifted the dress a little telling him it was okay, that everyone gets a mistake.
He was really enjoying this game. Her teasing skills were superb.
“I tried very hard to have children with a man that I thought I was in love with in the 50s. The shaman we went to said the curse, or spell (which I prefer) basically resets everything about me physiologically multiple times a day. I couldn’t have a child, so he no longer wanted me.”
“He sounds like a pud. I’m sorry. What about adoption?”
“I am very much for adoption, too many children in need out there. I am a donor for a shelter in town. I go by regularly with clothing and books.”
“Nice.”
“My turn.” She took his hand off her thigh and held it. “I want to stay in New York. My plan for doing so, eventually, involves getting married, and setting up a cycle where I could take on the identity of my own daughter, and so on.” She noticed him shift in his seat a little. “And I don’t mean today... or tomorrow. There doesn’t even need to be a real marriage if I don’t find someone.”
“That’s definitely not out of the question for me. Obviously, I need to get to know you better.”
“Obviously. I’d like to marry a strong man who’s a good person and is great in bed.”
“Will there be an audition later?”
“Absolutely. You seem to be two-thirds of the way there, and I’m dying to know about the rest.”
As they arrived at the film forum, people began taking pictures of them with the classic green Jaguar. Grant didn’t know what to make of the sudden celebrity status.
Murder laughed at him. “They think we’re part of the show.”
“Oh. And I look like Grant…”
“Yes, and I’m basically dressed up as Rita Hayworth.” She showed him a photo of Grant and Hayworth on her phone. As he kissed her, the cameras clicked even more intensely. She couldn’t imagine the moment feeling any more magical, and there was no actual magic involved.
After the film, as they walked back to the Jaguar, she turned to him and smirked.
“Let’s go for a drive.”
“Where to?”
“Going for a drive isn't about where you’re going! It's about how you get there, and where you end up.” They left the city, heading north, towards crisp night air. Grant looked up.
“It’s amazing how many more stars you can see out here, as you move away from the city lights.”
“Imagine how it looked before city lights existed.” He tried. But it was hard to fathom.
“You’re really that old, huh?”
She didn’t answer.
He watched as she worked the pedals and the shifter around the fast and tight curves. He was enjoying going for a drive. She had eased back into a cruising speed and took his hand.
She didn’t want to take him home. But she did.
She wanted to go in with him. But she didn’t.
He kissed her goodnight softly and sweetly.
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