AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And before anyone can stop me––hell, before I can stop me––my fingers fist in her hair. Yanking roughly, I tilt her head to the side, sink my teeth into her neck viciously, and drink.
And I don’t stop until every drop of life has been drained from her cooling, dead body.
29
SAYING GOODBYE
Ihave a lot of conflicted feelings, being back in Asheville after all this time. This is my home. Where I grew up, lived, and worked, writing all those vampire romance novels that paid the bills before I met my very own real-life vampire, fell in love, and followed him to California.
Where I found out I was a witch.
Then turned into a vampire.
It’s been a bit surreal, visiting my apartment and seeing all the things I left behind. The remnants of my human life.
And all of those things are just that…things.
They don’t matter.
What matters is the marked absence of Bernadette’s singular presence when we stopped by Blessed Brew this morning to grab several to-go boxes of coffee and tea for the service.
The mourning expressions on her employees’ faces as they ensured us they’d get the shop closed down and cleaned up before the funeral started so they could attend.
The tears that are tracking down Steph’s face as she whispers words of goodbye to the only mom she’s ever had, then accepts condolences from the long line of grievers who’ve come from all over the country to pay their last respects.
Witches from every corner of the U.S. and every state in between have descended on Asheville for Bernadette’s service. She was well-respected in the magical community, even before she took the role of leading the council in her dead sister’s stead. And it’s obvious she was also well-loved, if the symphony of sniffles and soft cries are any indication.
Steph doesn’t even get through half the line before a man in long, black robes steps up to a podium and quietly announces through a microphone that it’s time to begin.
We’re not in a church. Apparently, witches prefer to hold their services––whether they be birth celebrations, weddings, or funerals––closer to nature. So the service is being held at the private cemetery reserved for the witches of Bernadette’s coven and their families. It’s a beautiful morning, sunny and bright, yet not hot enough to make the mourners uncomfortable.
Steph heads for the empty chair I’ve saved next to me on the front row. Jesse is on my left and Erik is on Steph’s right. The three of us have been on the receiving end of several curious looks and more than a few scowls, but there’s no way we’re letting the witches’ hatred for our kind get in the way of our support of Steph.
Plus, Bernadette was important to us. We deserve the chance to say goodbye, too.
Leif is around here somewhere, but he whispered to Jesse earlier that he’d stay on the perimeter and watch our backs. Particularly, Jesse’s.
He’s still the vampire king and this would be an easy opportunity for someone, or a few someones, to try to take him out.
Steph reaches over and threads her fingers through mine, tears dripping down her face as the witch leading the service begins to speak of Bernadette. He waxes poetic about her life, her accomplishments, and all the positive ways she’s impacted the witch community as a whole.
He talks about how much everyone loved her. How she maintained peace between the covens with her gentle, yet firm leadership.
And finally, he describes how she saved us all––the witches, the humans, and the vampires––by sacrificing herself to stop Brimmwise from becoming powerful enough to complete their dark agenda.
A few accusatory looks shoot our way with that, but I try to ignore the poorly guarded hostility. I feel guilty enough as it is.
If I hadn’t insisted on going to New Orleans to find answers about my past, Brimmwise never would’ve known I existed. They wouldn’t have kidnapped Steph to force me to give up my magic to them, and Bernadette wouldn’t have felt the need to go there.
She wouldn’t have been in that clearing.
She wouldn’t have stepped in front of Steph to protect her from that killing blow.
She wouldn’t be dead.
“I spoke with Bernadette at length before her trip to New Orleans,” the witch goes on, pulling me from my tumultuous thoughts. “And you all must know, though her life has been cut short, her death wasn’t as premature as you all must think. She told me she was dying, that her time as our council leader was coming to an end. Her niece, Stephanie Brummett, was always meant to hold that position, and as the young witch has come into her full powers, the time was nigh for Bernadette to pass the reins to her.”
Steph hiccups as she tries to hold in her grief. I can feel some of the hostility focused on me wane as the witches digest that revelation. Even if Bernadette hadn’t gone to New Orleans, she still would have died. And soon.
