Grant was shocked, even more so, because then he heard Grant the first’s voice in his head. “She looks like a classy one too.” Murder, or was it Ethel? Hit him on the shoulder.
Grant spoke. “What is going on?”
Murder’s voice returned and she touched the music box. “It’s this, Grant. Your grandparents are speaking through us because of this music box.”
“Take the mirror, it shows truth,” Ethel spoke again through Murder’s lips.
In his head, Grant heard Grandpa again. Murder saw this as if her Grant was speaking in an older man’s voice. “And the knife, it absorbs magical blasts and can release them when you strike. It will cut the stew out of ya, even not charged up.”
Grant closed the knife and put it away. He did not want to get the stew cut out of him.
Murder was dying to ask a question. She’d never met any actual ghosts in her many years. She was still kind of wary of Grant knowing that being cursed means being damned. He’s my Fiancé now. He has to know eventually.
“Can you tell me if heaven and hell are real?”
Ethel replied. Which didn’t bother Murder, she had talked to herself many times before.
“I’m sorry child,” Murder scowled lightly at “child” she really hated that, but she knew Ethel couldn’t know that, and to Ethel, she did appear to be a child. “We do not know the answer to that any more than you. We’re not spirits, we’re more like a snapshot of our essence suspended in time. A magical artificial intelligence, if you will.”
“You make magic sound like science.”
“It’s more like science than you know. If you’re wondering if your curse means you are damned. I cannot know.”
Grant I Spoke again, too. “Lucky for you you have Trip here to look out for you. You can’t go to hell if you never die.”
Murder smiled. Grant groaned. He hated Trip as a nickname so much he’d never used it outside the family home. He had even asked Ethel not to use it after Grant I died.
Murder smirked. “What? It’s cute. And I love playing triplets.”
Grant I continued. “We are runnin’ out of time, when the box runs out of juice we’ll be gone again.”
Grant responded, “Tell me why you hid all this from me. Why you kept me from magic.” Grant stood and took Murder’s hand. He thought it might be nice if Grant I and Ethel could have a last dance. She seemed to agree. As they slowly swayed and held each other, Grant could feel his Grandpa’s tears running down his cheeks.
“Your parents,” Grant I said sadly. “I was convinced magic could save them. So much so, that I convinced you and your Grandmother as well. After a while, we were all mad at magic for not yielding any results. We thought it might be best if you didn’t grow up hating the gifts you had. So we wiped it away so you could have a normal life, we meant to tell you, but my heart gave out.”
Ethel continued for him since Grant didn’t know anything that had happened after he died, “And I started losing my memories, by the time I was ready to tell you, I was in Hidden Brook. I would start to tell you a story, but it would leave me just as quickly. On the day you brought Murder with you, I realized that you had found magic all on your own. I could finally stop fighting and just rest. When I let go of that last thing, my spells all broke and I passed away.”
Grant I changed the subject. He couldn’t handle losing her again and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, “The pincushion and pins work as long-distance swords. Like a voodoo doll kind of.”
Ethel added, realizing why he changed the subject, “and the thimble—”
The room returned to normal and the music box closed. It shuddered with a few tiny bolts of energy as it settled back into dormancy.
Murder held him, “I’m sure that was hard, thinking about your parents. Losing Grant and Ethel again…”
“Honestly? It was amazingly cool,” he smiled, “Sharing a mind with Grandpa was intense. He always seemed so hard-boiled. Feeling his tears was like seeing a whole new person.” He smiled through tears of his own.
“I’m sorry I wasted some of your Grandparent time.” Murder took his hand and squeezed it.
“It’s fine, it wasn’t wasted. I only wish we’d gotten info on the pocket watch. If you’re scared to die because of a curse at least that makes some sense. I wondered why simply being mortal sounded so horrible to you.”
“I do not wish to grow old. Like at all. But... if I know there’s no hell for me. It might not be as scary. There’s the other thing too. If I have to be mortal and have my brain get all soupy and my body whither, then having you face it with me should make it marginally more tolerable.” She smirked at him and he sighed.
“I love you. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you go on forever. That said, growing old with you sounds kind of amazing to me too.” His eyes were wet as he kissed her.
“Keep in mind. We don’t have to be immortal to age slowly. I knew one magical woman who lived to be nearly 300 years old, no curse involved. You and I together have at least that much magic.”
***
Levi looked in the mirror one last time. He’d done a deep cover glamour once before. It can mess with your head if left on too long. Tress’ brooch was designed with this in mind, as she used hers constantly. It also provided a nice range of customization.
“I’m an artiste!” She had told him. He’d decided not to correct her. Artiste really only applies to the performing arts. She was indeed brilliant. So he let it be.
“See you soon handsome.” He told the man in the mirror with the roguish charm. He placed the lapel pin on his right breast pocket. He grew three inches and broadened across his shoulders. His jaw went a bit more square, and his skin a shade darker. He surveyed the work.
“Eat your fool heart out, Micheal B. Jordan!” I’d do me. He winked in the mirror and decided not to do that with this face anymore. He would need a whole new range of expressions. He walked to the door of the lavatory, Tress was jingling her keys.
“You done self-flagellating?” He stepped into the light and her attitude changed. “Or, you know, I could take care of that for you.” She bit her lip.
“You know I’m only into boys.” Tress reached for her brooch, and he stopped her.
“You’re a girl whether you’re wearing that pin or not.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying, besides I’d feel bad after. I like Ira…”
“Speaking of… is he coming?”
“Too risky. I’m sorry. My community, both magical, and non-magical trans girls, depend on the secrecy of this warded safe house.”
“Well, I appreciate the help either way. Your karma should get a nice jolt.”
“I can’t count on Karma. I need your BFF and her beau to come through for me.”
“If Murder makes a promise, she’ll do her level best and little more.” They walked out to her car, and as he ducked into the tiny hardtop convertible, he kind of wished he had reconsidered the extra three inches of height.
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