As we cross the ferry, the sky opens with a torrential downpour. Fucking perfect.
We arrive looking half drowned while rows of chairs sink into the soft earth. I’m glad I didn’t wear my heels. The priest calls for attention, encouraging us to take our seats under the white tent. We follow, finding some open seats, but as I sit my chest seizes upon seeing the closed casket. I know he’s not in there, but it’s still so jarring to see it in person, making it feel real. My body shivers, and not from the cold.
Walker grabs my hand, but I shove him off. I don’t want his comfort right now. I want to feel every second of this pain, because it means that what Pierce and I had was real- no matter how brief.
The priest keeps his speech short and impersonal, sticking to the most basic bible verses and bland words of comfort. The irony of bible verses being spoken over Pierce who was possessed with a fucking demon isn’t lost on me, and I find myself chuckling beneath my breath.
Skye elbows me in the rib, and I cover my mouth with my hand, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, this is such a stupid farce of a funeral. He would have hated it.” She nods her agreement, her eyes falling on Lukas who’s sitting up front next to his dad.
An older woman with a severe haircut turns to shush me, and I roll my eyes. much to her chagrin.
“Well, I never.” I hear her murmur, which only makes me snort.
I feel seconds away from booing this priest, his pompous voice filling this tent which is full of pretenders. Walker squeezes my leg and whispers, “Salem, your eyes are turning black.”
I take a breath to steady myself, reigning in the power that had crept up without me knowing. I make a mental note to make time to visit that woman in town.
I had decided to put off dealing with my family, because that was how I’d always been able to cope with them. Being related to people who’d hurt me emotionally, had given me a lifetime of pain. Each interaction with them was like walking on a minefield, you never knew when something could blow up in your face.
I could call up my grandmother and ask her if we came from a family of witches, or I could stick to researching in the library with the hope that I would eventually find something. Or trust this stranger’s word that the woman in town might be able to help me.
I twist a strand of thread that’s come loose from my sleeve around my finger until the tip turns cherry red.
Finally, the priest stops his droning, but when he does, Lukas takes his place.
I feel Skye’s cold slim fingers slide through mine, and I give her hand a squeeze.
“Pierce would have really hated all of this.” He says looking out across the crowd with disdain. A laugh escapes my mouth, and the woman turns around again to glare at me.
“He would have wanted music, and dancing. A celebration of his time here, because Pierce loved to have a good time. He was full of life and fun and love.” I feel Lukas’s gaze boring into me with that last word, making my face flush.
“He was my twin. My other half. He deserved to grow old and have a family of his own one day, but instead we are here to honor his memory. Pierce, brother, I love you, man.”
He takes his seat, only to have his father take his place at the podium.
“Thank you all for coming today, I know it’s not under the best circumstances, but it’s under the face of adversity when you find out who your true friends are. Seeing you all here, having all of you show up here for us today, it shows me that you are true friends.”
He drones on about the importance of family and other bullshit I’m sure he doesn’t really believe, before the priest says a prayer over the casket, lowering it into the ground.
The silence that engulfs the space is deafening as we all watch the empty casket become less visible by the second. A lone tear escapes my eye as it disappears completely, feeling like the last of my hope has been squashed while my heart cracks even further.
ChapterTwenty
LUKAS
SONG: KISS FROM A ROSE BY NO RESOLVE, KAYLA KING
It’s fitting that it’s fucking pouring today. We’re crowded underneath a tent, while the rain slaps against the vinyl in an angry rhythm. A closed casket sits at the forefront of the white tent, with a larger-than-life picture of Pierce smiling in his football uniform stands beside it. As if we could forget who we’re here for.
Everyone in my father’s elite circle has turned out to offer their condolences while also using today as an opportunity to schmooze and wield business deals. It’s disrespectful but unsurprising. That doesn’t stop me from glaring at every single one of them that passes me. Here they were, scum of the earth and still breathing, while my brother was being ‘put to rest.’ I clench my jaw, so I don’t snap on them or worse, start pummeling them like I ache to. None of them are really here for Pierce and it disgusts me. The fakeness of it all.
I can’t wait for this to be over with. It took everything in me to get up and talk to this crowd of people who couldn’t have given two shits about Pierce. My hands shake with barely controlled anger.
They still haven’t found my twin’s body, theorizing that the weight of the rocks had crushed him into dust. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I feel a random hand clamp down on my shoulder. I flinch, ripping my arm away from the presumptuous owner. A man in a Tom Ford suit and slicked back hair puts his hands up like he’s trying to calm down a rabid dog. I sneer down at him, noting the strong cologne wafting off him. I was in no mood to be fucked around with at my twin’s funeral.
“Just wanted to offer my condolences.” He says.
I roll my eyes, “You can do that without touching me.” I growl.
