SERAPHINA
My heart pounded as I stared out the car window, my breath coming in uneven gasps. The looming mausoleum, a large vaulted building filled with bodies, was intimidating to say the least. Rumors suggested that this one had several layers below it, used to store some bodies in a deep freeze.
To me, the thought of being surrounded by so much death made my skin crawl. As the sun set, I watched the mourners entering the building. All were dutifully wearing the garish red Jack had insisted on.
I knew I would stand out in my white suit, more suited to a bride than a widow. The lacy veil over my eyes was more to hide my red, tear-streaked eyes than for aesthetic purposes. It was a final request asked of all attendees in his will.
I was on the lookout for snow-blond hair, piercing eyes, and a devilish, murderous smile. My determination was like a smoldering flame in my stomach. Aleksandr Vasiliev would be here, and I was ready to confront him.
Damien, in his red suit that did nothing for his orange-toned hair, opened the car door. Evelyn slid out first. Then Damien offered his hand to me. I took it, focusing on the firmness of his grip, wishing my emotions were as steady.
Sleep deprivation was gnawing at me. But I moved forward with determination as Lilith exited the vehicle next. I had walked too quickly without my group and collided with a large man.
One of my heels slipped and I let out a small shriek. The man barely noticed, more concerned with keeping his own balance as he tried to right himself. I reached out to steady myself, grabbing his arm. He corrected his footing again with a grunt.
âWatch yourself,â he muttered, pushing slightly with his hip.
I pushed back with my arms, shoving him away from me, trying to ground my heels before I fell again. âYou watch yourself, asshole!â I retorted.
He made a disgusted noise, then another as he looked down his nose at me. His long dark hair had come loose from its ponytail during our altercation. While I couldnât see his face, part of me recognized his voice.
âThis whole fucking funeral is ridiculous enough, but canât you at least follow the damn rules? Are you that fucking entitled?â he asked, trying to fix his hair.
The veil was obscuring my vision, frustrating me as I gave him a dirty look underneath. My hand lifted to rip it off delicately, in order to let him properly see my glare. Garrick Eyak met my face with a large scowl of his own.
Garrick was involved in all sorts of shady business with Jack, from narcotics and opium to security, foster care, and juvenile correctional facilities. Even a âsummer campâ that wasnât clearly defined in the funding. Something I hadnât known when we first met.
A small part of me wondered if I was looking at Jackâs killer. âWell, Iâm happy to end the funding here and now, Mister Eyak, but Iâm afraid I have a husband to bury first before we sign the official paperwork,â I said, my words sharp and cruel.
Garrick looked taken aback, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form words. His gaze held mine steadily. Something I hadnât been able to do unless I was pinning down a subject as I took care of the dirty work that was Jackâs legacy these days.
I didnât want to turn away from any victim I ordered killed in front of me. His eyes were somehow warm, as if seeing right through the pain and fierce anger.
âWow, you tied the muttâs tongue so easily, little Seraphina,â Evelyn said, smirking as she, Lilith, and Damien hovered close.
âIâm so sorry. I didnât mean to run into you,â he said, his face suddenly sincere.
I softened a bit at the genuine look in his eyes, knowing that playing the ~angry~ grieving widow wasnât a good look anyway.
âItâs fine, Iââ My words trailed off as I spotted a blond head bobbing through the crowd.
It was Aleksandr, talking to Nathaniel Chen. Garrick followed my gaze, his face turning grim, and his words softer.
âI suppose you have your hands full with your husbandâs death, Ms. Blair,â he said. The way he said Miss instead of Mrs. made my skin crawl.
âIâm sorry for our poor encounter.â Aleksandr disappeared inside, making me realize there was ample opportunity to approach him as I turned back to Garrick.
âAfter today, heâll be the least of my concerns, Mister Eyak, though the same cannot be said for ~you~. His death is likely to impact you and your organization a great deal.â
Garrick swallowed hard, his eyes studying me. âIs that a threat, Miss Seraphina?â
âMiss Blair,â I corrected, my tone sharp. âBelieve me, Iâve only just begun. You and any other person who had dealings with my husband have another thing coming if you think Iâm about to have my money involved in places I donât want it. Iâm not my husband.â
Garrickâs grin widened, his hand rubbing his chin in a show of amusement. I was a small woman, standing up to him, my fists clenched. I brushed off his condescending look and strode into the funeral, no longer interested in any further conversation.
I despised that look, a blend of pity and warmth bundled in one. As if I were someone in need of tenderness and protection, when I was clearly all teeth and claws. Even if I did recognize some of my anger as grief.
~Easy there, kitten. No need to ~bare your claws~ Aleksandrâs voice echoed in my mind, his gaze heavy on me in that dim, gloomy hallway. That was the same night my husband was murdered.
I tried not to feel shame and guilt at how erotic I found him. How I might be attracted to a man with the blood of my husband on his hands. I was only half-listening as the new High Priest of the Umbra Aurorae began his speech. Time seemed to slow down.
I knew the moment they called me up, I would see my husband for the last time. The sound of static filled my ears, and I felt as if I were about to be submerged underwater again, drowning my anger. Pain seeped into every inch of me as I tried to accept this reality.
I was here, and Jack was really gone. âNow that his energy has passed the veil, it is time to return the last thing that symbolizes what tied him most to this earth in his final days. In hopes that one day their energies may reunite beyond this time, and into the next,â the High Priest intoned.
My stomach churned as Elis Ashwin beckoned me forward. His most recent buzz cut was an attempt to look younger, screaming fraud. Everyone knew Jack had been the real leader of the coven, even before Elis was elected this year. It made me suspect him too as a possible murderer.
Elis extended his arm as I approached the stage. I took his hand, trying to maintain my grace despite the numbness spreading through my body. I tried not to be sick as I held what could be a murdererâs hand while he led me to my husbandâs body.
I had to grip Elisâs arm tighter as I looked down at Jackâs cold, lifeless form for the first and last time. Grief threatened to consume me, like a giant spider wrapping its dark legs around my heart.
They had done a good job of hiding the damage. I knew beneath his suit were wounds so deep, several organs were still missing. A small white pillow rested on his hands, matching his white suit.
At peace. It made me want to lash out at him.
I was angry at his choice of colors, and a million other things that had now soiled my hands forever. Somehow, I kept my composure, picking up his ring from the pillow and slipping it onto my other finger where it hung loosely.
I held it close as I took the stand at the podium to speak. I wanted to get this over with, hoping my voice wouldnât betray me. I was glad I had chosen something short and sweet.
âPerhaps if death is kind, and there can be returning,
We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.
We shall be happy, for the dead are free,
For now, I live as you wander the beyond,
Spirit to guide me back in your arms.
Rest in peace,
Enjoy your time until we meet,
In the Meadow under the baobab tree.â
I hadnât expected applause, especially at a funeral. A wave of dizziness hit me, but it wasnât a surprise as I mutely took a seat.
The fact that I had borrowed part of my speech from Sara Teasdaleâs poem If Death is Kind was no longer my main concern. Instead, my main goal was to stay upright as I felt a fainting spell try to overtake me.
The procession broke apart, with Lilith and Evelyn standing on either side of me as they rose from their seats. I remained glued to my chair, sweating from the nausea.
I signaled to Damien that I needed some time alone. He looked at me with concern as I rose to my feet, seeking fresh air away from the crowd.
I seized the opportunity to slip into the hallway behind the main pew. From there, I ducked into one of the nearby stairwells leading to the lower tombs, hoping to avoid any immediate interactions.
I took a deep breath in the quiet, my eyes closing as I felt my heart racing. I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs.
Jackâs ring felt heavy on my right finger as I rolled it between my fingers, taking deep, calming breaths. I leaned against the cool marble wall, allowing the dizziness and nausea to subside.
I was in awe of what had just happened. I was trying to breathe, trying to feel it again.
This time, my fainting spell had felt very different. It was a feeling that hadnât caused me to collapse.
A feeling I had chased over and over again but never seemed able to grasp. Magic.
A small meow startled me. My eyes popped open at the sound in the silence. My head whipped from side to side, trying to locate the source of the sound.
I wondered how a cat had gotten in. I questioned whether I had somehow conjured it, or if it were some sort of sign from the Goddess.
I wondered if one, if any, of the faces of our great mother would grace me with a sign. The jet-black cat looked at me from atop some steps leading to a tomb below.
Its striking green and blue eyes pierced into me as it stood still. The sound of footsteps interrupted our eye contact.
My eyes and head turned to the right as Aleksandr seemed to materialize from thin air. His gaze was fixed on the spot I had just been looking at.
When I looked back, the cat was gone. Aleksandr wasted no time as he headed down the stairs, as if trying to find it.
I decided to follow him, but quickly realized I had made a grave mistake. The many tombs and random hallways between the tight stacks below easily confused me.
I was surrounded by a sea of dead bodies, encased in their final resting places. I couldnât retrace my steps as I spun around in a full circle.
âShit.â