Levi took off his jacket, Ira took it and placed it on a coat rack by the door. Damn it.
Murder spoke to him in his ear. “It’s great, I can see now.”
Levi breathed deeply.
The shaved head man spoke. “I am Jengo,” He said, in a deep voice with an African accent. The rest followed his lead, introducing themselves.
“Valeria.” The small woman nodded.
“Edward.” The middle-aged man smiled at them.
“And I am Tress,” the girl in white smiled. She removed her brooch and her glamour dropped, revealing a handsome, yet feminine young man in her place. It was a fairly minor change, as the wig, makeup, and dress were doing most of the work. The difference in her voice, however, was undeniable. “My alter ego you’re seeing now is Paul. I was born Paul, but Tress is who I am.” She replaced the brooch.
Levi smiled. “I was worried at first but... I feel something. A connection maybe.”
Valeria spoke. “Yes. It is a common thing for subservient immortals to feel. I first felt it in the marketplace where I met Jengo. We have suffered numerous deaths from our oppressors for wanting to be together. We both respected our charges before they became so cruel.”
Edward stood. “We all have similar stories. My charge locks me in a room unless he needs to be driven, something cleaned, or someone to kill for fun. Tress has a master that isn’t as violent as the rest of ours, but that’s not to say he isn’t cruel. She’s sure he would never lift a finger to her. But he asks her to be Paul out of tired morals that no longer fit the world”.
Tress took over the telling of her story. “The curse prevents my body from being physically altered, so I can never be Tress on the level I would like. We all seek emancipation. The problem is we don't know what happens when an Ageless One dies and releases their Protector.”
Levi looked at Ira.
He shrugged. “My charge? Insane. Obsessed with me figuring out how to kill a Protector named Levi. That is why I made sure that was your real name. If you can get me out of my servitude, I’d gladly help you be rid of her. She likes to beat me when things don’t go her way. Seventy years on, she still hasn’t told me her name. Luckily she only shows up when she wants something.”
Levi was aghast. “I thought I might want emancipation too. But I don’t know. Recently, Ira’s charge made me relive a horrible time in my life... But I love my charge.. And I know she’ll want to come here and help you.”
“I’m already here, Levi.” They all turned to look at Murder and Grant who had entered the room.
Everyone at the table stood. Edward invited them to sit.
***
Murder sat down by Levi. Grant stood since there weren’t any more chairs. Edward offered his.
“I’ve been sitting in a car most of the day, but thank you.”
Levi pulled the radio out of his ear. Grant gave him its case.
“For transparency’s sake... I didn’t know what to expect coming here. I had my friends here watching out for me. This is my charge, Murder LaVoe and our friend, Detective Grant Noble.”
“Did you say Murder LaVoe?” Tress stood and curtsied, “I’m a huge fan! I was at the Lady Dreamscapes show when that crazy woman shot you! Come to think about it, you being Ageless makes a certain sense. The waltzes… sorry I’m rambling.”
“We want to help in any way we can.” Murder scanned the faces at the table. “You seem to know a bit more about the rules of this sick game than we do. We’d like to learn everything you do about it. Then, we can investigate the rest. My hope is that we can find a nonviolent solution, even if it means ending immortality forever.” They discussed what they knew:
Ira was 96 years old. His charge was much older. So, some Ageless could get new Protectors. They still had no proof Ira’s charge was who she’d led them to believe she was on any count. He’d been conscripted at 26 years old.
Tress had never been killed by her charge, but she had died, only once, she’d lost her glamour and had been seen as Paul in a dress in the 1700s. She was beaten to death, and to add insult to injury, when she woke she was arrested for witchcraft. Her charge, Stephen, let her serve her time. “To teach him a lesson,” he had said, purposely misgendering her, as he liked to do.
Murder got angrier with each tale.
Jengo seemed to have the most physically violent charge. She liked to whip him and mutilate him simply to watch the wounds heal. From his description, she was an ancient Egyptian woman who had several of the pharaohs convinced that she was Bastet. Today, she went by Faridah. She was working as a model. Maybe Giselle knows her? Jengo knew the when and where of the curse, but had no idea who cursed them.
Valeria’s charge was a man who claimed to love her, so he killed her every time another man paid her attention. Murder knew the type. She suggested that maybe they kill him first and just hope for the best. She claimed she was kidding. The bastard also didn’t show Valeria any affection at all. He wanted a living doll to rape and kill.
He had been a drug lord in Florida in the 80s. Today he dealt in real estate and a “protection” racket. He went by only Rico, or Mr. Rico. Valeria was only 70 years old. She was quite sure she was Rico’s second Protector.
She hadn’t known him before she woke up on his estate, in Miami. She believed she'd been drugged, and kidnapped. At the time, money and attentive care had actually been preferable to the poverty she had lived in previously.
Edward’s charge was known as ‘Sir Gregory’. He asserted to any new acquaintance that he had been a Knight of the Round Table. He was most certainly not. Gregory was cursed in the 1900s. He was not a knight, and killed Edward every time he reminded him of the truth.
Edward had been his school teacher. This was the only pairing that knew not only exactly when and where the curse was placed, but also by whom. The person who had placed the curse was Edward’s own wife. She caught him cheating and went to a witch. She wanted him to be stuck in servitude to his terrible student forever.
Murder stood with the iPad with the notes file of questions that still needed to be answered.
How had Rico and the supposed “Queen Anne” managed to get new Protectors?
What happened to their originals? There was a loophole of some kind here.
What happened if a Protector turned on the Ageless charge? Maybe it was the answer to the first question?
Tress walked over to Murder after the brainstorming session to thank her. Instead she just hugged her.
As they went to their cars to leave, Murder threw her fist in the air. “Vive la révolution!”
They answered in kind. “Vive la révolution!”
Murder smiled. “Stay in touch, don’t hesitate to call. other than a funeral tomorrow we’ll basically be around if you need us. We will reconvene to plan soon.”
“I’m going back with Ira,” Levi told them sheepishly. “We have an evening of drinking and whatever planned.”
“Be vigilant,” Murder asked of him.
Grant agreed. “He seems nice, but just remember the thrall. He might not even be in control.”
Levi nodded, “I know. But I have a good feeling.” Levi activated a tracker and put it in his interior coat pocket. “I was born at night, but not last night.” He got in the scary Volvo with Ira who had reinstated his Colin accent.
Grant opened the Ford’s door for Murder. “Your chariot, M’Lady.” As they drove, she held his hand.
She eventually turned to look at him. “If you want out… I would understand. This isn’t your fight.”
He looked at her. A horn blared. He had swerved a bit. “Zero tolerance policy on distracted driving, means I should never be driving a car with you in it.. No, I’m… I’m all in. I was impressed with the way you handled that back there. You’re a natural leader, and a good detective in your own right.”
“You didn’t surmise this to be my first revolution, did you?”
“No, I suppose not. I joined the force because I love this town. My community. Those people are New Yorkers. This is my Job. Even more so now that Grant the first left me his inheritance. I can feel it. The power it has. I’m convinced it has something to do with this problem… And we either all die helping those people or we end immortality... Or... I become immortal myself and you have to look at this ugly mug for ever.”
Murder smirked, “Forever may not be long enough, Grant Noble.”
Grant pushed the Bluetooth button on the Ford’s stereo. “I found a song for you. It’s got that waltz beat.” Pretty Penny by Stone Temple Pilots filled the sedan’s speakers.
“Thank you. I love this one.” She wrapped her arm around his and he could feel her sway to the beat. He lost himself for a moment and began to sing along, way out of key. She looked at him and smiled, but as she did, he stopped and covered his mouth, as if he were embarrassed.
“Why did you stop?” she asked. He saw the concern in her eyes.
“Because I can’t carry a tune in a bathtub, forget the bucket.” She laughed and immediately felt bad about it as he continued, “I’ve been told my whole life just to not sing where anyone can hear me.” She squeezed his arm.
“Baby, if you want to sing, then sing.” She sang a line from “Sing A Song” by The Carpenters. He joined in, still terribly out of key.
“I know how much joy it gives me to sing. I would never deny you that kind of elation in my company.” She started his song over and they sang it together. She even noticed a marginal improvement, just because he was no longer embarrassed.
He squeezed her hand and got teary-eyed. “Thank you.”
***
When Grant woke, the first thing he did was check for Levi’s tracker. It was right where he’d hoped, in the other room of the penthouse suite.
Murder stretched, his rustling about had roused her from her sleep. She saw he already had the tablet in his hands.
“Everything All right?”
“Yep, Levi’s tracker is here in the Penthouse. We’re good.”
“Good. If you don’t mind, I intend to read those letters this morning.”
“Just can’t wait huh?”
“Well no, I also hope to find out if your grandparents had a song.”
Grant liked the idea of her singing at Ethel’s service. “Yes! That would be amazing.”
“And... maybe I’ll figure out what the watch and the ring do as well.”
“Ah yes, but most of all—”
“Yes, most of all I’m a gossipy old lady who really wants to be nosy about your grandparents love life.” She rolled her eyes, slightly annoyed at him for making her admit it.
“I love it.”
That was enough to set things right though, she knew he respected her volumes of experience. She just wished he could express it without making her feel old. She kissed him on the cheek as he slipped his shoes on.
“I’m going to go get us some coffees, and I need some stationery. I’m a terrible speaker so I always need to write something down.”
“I have stationery!”
“Yes I saw. Calligraphy and inkwell pens. Only thing I’m making with that is a mess.”
Murder chuckled as she opened the oldest letter.
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