“Lilith.” She gave me a sad smile. “That dress is lovely.”
I glanced down. “Um. Thank you. I wore it to church last week.”
She clasped her hands and tilted her head, the look she always made when about to chastise someone.
I fidgeted. What did I do?
“The neckline is low, dear. You know we have standards.”
My stomach sank, and I glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, most women were too busy washing dishes to see me.
“Don’t you normally wear a shawl and tuck it in your neckline?” she prompted.
“Oh.” My mind blanked. “I…I suppose I do. I haven’t been thinking clearly today.”
She nodded, all sympathy. “I understand. You and your mother just lost Elder Meadows. But…before you go into the church, you must cover yourself.” Her tone remained gentle, but her eyes turned sharp. “Do you understand?”
My face heated. “Yes, Mistress Dalton. I…I didn’t mean anything.”
Her smile was all condescension. “Let’s try better next time, shall we?”
I nodded miserably, shame dripping over me, head to toe, like someone had dumped a barrel of hot tar on me.
The sound of footsteps broke through my humiliation. I looked up to see the women filing out, heading toward the church.
“The funeral,” I blurted. “It’s about to start. Can’t it wait? I need to be at the service with my mother. I promise I won’t bend over or anything.”
But she shook her head. “It must be done now. To honor Lord Erlik we must obey his precepts. Do you want people to think you are a prideful, vain woman?”
Helpless, I shook my head.
“Run along if you don’t wish to be late.”
My chest tightened. “Yes, Mistress Dalton.” I grabbed up my skirts and ran out the door for my home, my breath coming in sharp staccatos.
Seven
Castiel
I sat in a special chair off to the side of the raised platform. The high carved wooden back and velvet padding turned it into a throne. It was also deeply uncomfortable and not made for a being with wings.
I squashed the urge to fidget, to lean forward and extend a wing over the armrest. You’ve got to look the part, I reminded myself. After this ends, you’re getting the book from Lilith and flying away. You’ll never have to deal with this miserable group of people ever again.
All but one elder sat in the front row, a line of somber black. They all blended together for me. I couldn’t remember which name went to which person, and I didn’t care to. These sanctimonious men made my lips curl. The oldest elder, who had needed help to step up onto the platform to reach the pulpit, gripped his cane and surveyed the congregation for a silent moment. Elder Nelson, I thought his name was, the most senior elder who seemed to rule everything now Grimshaw was dead. He was going to give two eulogies. He opened his mouth and began to pray.
I shifted again in my seat, gritting my teeth against the pain in my wings. My primaries were going to be bent after this. I’d have to fan them out and smooth them straight again. Ugh, that was so much work.
In the echoing silence, a door creaked open.
My eyes shot to the back of the church, where a thin strip of winter light widened down the center aisle. Lilith slipped inside, head down. The light shone off her pale blonde hair. She quietly closed the door behind her, then tiptoed toward the front pew where her mother and Absalom’s widow sat. She wore a thin white shawl draped over her shoulders and tucked into the front of her neckline, something she hadn’t worn at breakfast. Had someone made her go back for it?
The elder didn’t stop praying and no one turned to stare, but I could see the spots of red on her cheeks and the way her shoulders hunched she was convinced everyone was watching her. Maybe they were, from the corner of their eyes. This creepy little place probably did all sorts of things to each other.
The pungent smell of rot hovered around the pews. Could the humans not smell it? Were they as unaware of that as they were the decay in their leadership?
Lilith slid onto the pew near the front, sitting beside her mother. On the other side of Mrs. Meadows sat the wan, black-haired woman called Silence. Poor girl had been Absalom Meadows’s wife.
The rest of the funeral went on. At one point I stood while they sang a farewell blessing. I bowed my head when an elder asked us to pray. I nodded thoughtfully and frowned contemplatively during pauses.
