And maybe I was.
Now, whispers followed me like ghosts. Threats lingered in every corner.
If I showed my face, they’d tear me apart.
My heart pounded as I ducked behind a thicket of trees, watching from a distance as the funeral procession wound through the city like a black serpent.
It was grand. Ornate. A spectacle of grief.
Priests and friars in sweeping black robes led the line of mourners, their hands clasped around golden crosses and relics, their voices raised in solemn prayer.
Somber music echoed through the narrow streets—flutes, trumpets, and low, mournful drums.
A death march.
A symphony for the dead.
The heavy wooden coffins were draped in wreaths and adorned with mementos—pitiful reminders of lives cut short. Glistening black horses pulled the funeral carts through the graveyard, their hooves striking the cobblestones with dull finality.
I stood cloaked in shadow, hidden beneath my long black gown. The high neckline clung tightly to my throat, as if trying to trap the emotion that swelled within me. Each passing breeze pressed my sheer mantilla against my face like a veil of mourning, delicate yet suffocating—an invisible cage I could not escape. My rosary lay cold and unforgiving against my skin, each bead like a frozen tear.
Desperate for absolution I knew I didn’t deserve, I whispered prayers under my breath. The words were hollow, automatic. No penance could save me now. The small wooden cross hanging from my bracelet burned against my wrist, as though touched by hellfire.
A chilly wind cut across my sweat-slicked skin.
The procession crawled forward with ritualistic solemnity, but the weight of it—the grief, the spectacle—pressed down on me until tears blurred my vision. Whether they were real or fabricated, I no longer knew. I was grieving something... but I couldn’t name it.
And then I felt him.
Balthazar.
I knew he was out in the crowd, cloaked in silence, watching. Waiting. The sensation of him slithered across my spine, awakeningthe dread and longing that lived side by side inside me. Was he here to stop me from returning to Zampa? To punish me for daring to hide?
I bowed, scanning the sea of mourners with furtive glances, searching for his unmistakable form. But he did not emerge. Not yet. The predator remained in the dark.
I longed for the funeral to end so I could slip away with Signor Zampa and return to the safety of locked doors and ancient scripture. The priest droned on, his voice like dust—dry and endless.
Another priest stepped toward the mausoleum where the Tocino family would be sealed in their eternal tomb. He raised his hands and began to pray in a sonorous, almost theatrical voice.
“Almighty and merciful God, we gather here today to commend the souls of our dearly departed Tocino family into your loving and forgiving hands…”
My eyes narrowed behind the protective lace of my mantilla.
“…They have met a tragic end through an act of violence. We mourn lives cut short, the anguish and pain inflicted by this heinous crime…”
I rolled my eyes behind the veil of my shroud. A pious display, polished and rehearsed for the grieving masses. As if prayers could scrub the rot from this city’s underbelly.
“Lord,” the priest droned, “we pray for justice to be served, that those responsible for this crime may be brought to account. Grant wisdom and strength to those who pursue the truth, that they may uncover the fullness of it, and ensure the guilty do not go unpunished.”
Come on. Come on.
“We also pray for the family and loved ones of the Tocino family. Comfort them in their grief, O Lord. Surround them with your tender embrace and grant them solace in knowing their kin now rest in your eternal care. Ease their sorrow, and grant them strength for the days ahead.”
Goodness, enough already.
The words spun around me like gnats, buzzing with empty virtue, stinging at my temples.
“We beseech you, Lord,” he continued, “bring healing to ourcommunity. In the face of violence and unrest, instill a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation. Please help us prevent such tragedies. Guide us to a world where love, compassion, and justice prevail.”
