“Thank you for coming, Silas. I know for a fact that Soleil loved you deeply.”
“I loved her too,” he said. It was awkward to say the words in front of Meredith. The way he’d loved Soleil was different from the way he loved Meredith, but it wasn’t the time or the place to explain that now. Still, he noticed Meredith’s eyes dart toward the fire.
Astrial lightly touched her elbow. “Don’t fret.”
“Hmm?” Meredith’s eyes widened.
“Soleil wanted Silas to be happy. She was polyamorous and would never have kept him from you even if she was still alive.”
“Oh, uh,” she mumbled, “um, thank you.”
Astrial bowed deeply. “I must go now. The ceremony is about to begin.”
“That was weird,” Meredith said, once she was gone.
Silas snorted. “Different strokes for different folks.”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m the monogamous type. I definitely will not be okay with you taking other lovers.” She gave him a nervous grin.
He hooked a finger beneath her chin and pressed his lips to hers. “Good. I feel the same way.”
They followed the crowd of guests to a long line of people surrounding the fire. Silas noticed a familiar face on the other side of the flames, Ryker, alone and despondent, his dark, upturned eyes reflecting the light. Or maybe that burn came from within. Behind the incubus, the vampire, Julius, stood on the brink of the woods, hands folded respectfully. The vampire looked less despairing. In fact, his lips held a whisper of a smile as if he was the keeper of a tightly held secret.
The celestial fae, all women, crowded around a carved wooden box. When they opened it, Silas’s exhale shook with emotion. Inside, was what was left of Soleil—a dense, black orb cushioned on purple silk. The fae raised the box above their heads and began to sing.
The haunting tune was in a language Silas didn’t know, but the melody brimmed with love and loss. The group of fae proceeded solemnly toward the fire.
A tall black woman, dressed in rings of purple crystals that reminded Silas of the planet Saturn, addressed the crowd. “We come here to celebrate this revolution of our sister Soleil. The universe is a vast and unfathomable place. We are drawn to each other by orbit, we hold to each other by gravity, and we stay in each other’s galaxy by fate. Soleil was our sun, a bringer of light and warmth and pleasure. We bring her now to the fire of our ancestors, fire born of stardust from the far-off place of our origin. Be free, Soleil. May your light be renewed and shine for us always.”
Astrial, crying beads of light that twinkled like tiny stars on her cheeks, accepted the box from the other fae and tossed it into the flames. A plume of purple embers sailed toward the stars. Silas squeezed Meredith’s hand tighter as the fire consumed the box and the dark orb within. Soleil’s remains unraveled like a tightly wrapped ball of rubber bands, a giant purple atom rotating deep within the pyre. Flames turned to sparks, which in turn, transformed to hot embers. And then, abruptly, the fire burnt itself out. All that was left was a heap of hot coals and charred logs.
“By the goddess,” Meredith whispered. “Look!”
Silas narrowed his eyes on the spot where Meredith discretely pointed, but couldn’t see anything. Astrial stepped forward and removed one of the larger pieces of scorched wood. He gasped in disbelief. Under it was a small foot, the size of a human in the fourth or fifth year of life. Its skin was ash colored but alive, kicking forward with a jerky movement.
The crowd closed in, the celestials clearing off more of the firewood. “No, it couldn’t be,” he whispered.
“You didn’t know?” Julius appeared beside him. “Celestial fae are made of stardust. Energy. They don’t reproduce like shifters or humans. Not even like vampires.”
A hand appeared in the ash, and then Astrial helped a little girl step out of the steaming wood, her bright blond hair seeming to glow in the darkness. Her knees wobbled as she stepped forward, delicate and naked, two gossamer wings unraveling from her back.
Another fae, this one with bright red skin and a dress that looked like white fog, approached the girl. “I name this child Luna and claim her as my own.”
“Do any oppose this union?” the black woman asked.
No one said a word.
“Then I pronounce you mother and child. Take your daughter home.”
“Th… that’s her?” Silas asked Julius.
“Reincarnated.” Julius rested his hands inside his pockets. “Someday she may remember you, if only as a distant dream.”
“Wow,” Meredith whispered.
“Indeed.” Julius flashed her a little fang. “A vampire’s end is far from as pretty or as functional. It’s why we guard our lives above all else.”
“That explains some things,” Silas said. He scratched behind his ear. “Why are you here, Julius?”
