“I’m already holding Embry’s, and I don’t want to levitate my candle the whole time”—his face fell briefly before Ames made a very strategic move to nestle one hip next to his—“but I’ll allow you to wrap your arm around my waist.”
“Deal,” Fairfax agreed without hesitation, already slipping into place.
So, there they were, lined up on the dais behind Skye, who’d finished with the microphone and was gesturing for everyone’s attention. Embry looked out into the sea of humanity. Witches, Bitches, Stitches, Glitches—hundreds of them, all illuminated from below by their candles, all sending a shining light toward the dais. Faces both familiar and not-so-much smushed in between the ring of trees.
The powder-puff team—minus Skye—and the regular football team crowded together on the right side of the podium, their boulder shoulders quaking as some teared up. The shifter girls Embry and Alistair had helped out during room assignments handed out tissues.
Many of the Stitches had camped out by the largest of the decorative coffins, sitting and standing and hovering over the thing, a dark void in the settling night. The Glitches filled in the gaps as they always did, too many of them to count.
The cast and crew ofInto the Woodshung together in the back,toward Marlow Theatre. Jonesy was ensconced with them—already absolutely bawling her little empathic heart out as revenant Magda patted her shoulder. Alistair stood with them, off to the right, and silent, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his Raven’s Head vest. When she spotted him, Embry gestured for the diviner to come stand with the rest of the senior Witch crew on the dais, but Alistair shook his head. It made her heart ache more than it should. He punished himself too much.
And the rest of the Witches? Well, they swarmed together on the left side of the podium, more bonded now than before, after the fight at Raven’s End.
Headmaster Martinelli stood with Merlin behind the dais, clustered with the rest of the administration.
Even after locating everyone else, Embry kept searching for the one face she wanted to see. The only one she didn’t—Rye. He’d be here. She knew he wouldn’t miss it.
“Hello, all. Hello, if I could have your attention,” Skye began, doing her best impression of a teacher into the microphone. “We’re here to celebrate the life and memory of Oakley Riddle. If you would like to share something with everyone about Oakley, please line up in an orderly fashion on the left side of the stage.”
There was a flurry of movement as a line formed, but Skye motioned for the first person in line—a craggy freshman mummy—to stay put. Then, with a toothy nod, the werewolf stepped away from the mic and, as she’d promised, waved Embry forward. “The floor is yours.”
“My name is Embry Woodcross,” she started, stepping up to the mic, holding fast to her burning candle, “and I know most of you probably already knew that before last Saturday, and if you didn’t, you certainly learned it since then.”
She nodded, the crowd eerily silent at her weak attempt at self-effacement.
“By now you’ve seen the video of me saying not very kind things to Oakley. I was trying to make a joke, and, as you can see here, I’m not actually very funny. She sure didn’t think so.”
Her voice broke. Embry closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying to will the tears to hold back. Her makeup would be intact, but the rest of her wouldn’t be—and she needed to get this out. As well as she could.
Embry swallowed hard and lifted her gaze back to the crowd of faces that had made up her world the past three years. People she framed in contrast to what she’d done for them—bestowing her grace one potion, elixir, magically updated room assignment at a time. She truly did spend so much time and energy trying to make Raven’s Head the best it could be. But looking in the face of the student body now, she realized she’d never seen each of these people as more than just a clamoring mass providing background noise below her pedestal.
They were individuals. Not just members of their groups, or commodities based on their magical gifts—people. All of them. Just finding their way.
Like Oakley.
As Embry drew in a shaky inhale to continue, realizing she’d taken too long, her attention caught on a face a few rows back in the crowd. Close enough that even in the falling light and the flickering illumination, she could make out the riot of blond hair, the searing attention of his green eyes, the taut expression.
Rye. He was here. And now, just as she’d been taught to do as a young performer, Embry was going to give her speech straight to him. “I wish I could take every single word back—”
Voice cracking, Embry glanced down at her candle, trying to collect herself. When she looked up again, her gaze snapped right to Rye’s. He waited, rapt, encouraging, sweet.
Hers. She’d need him after this. And forevermore.
“If I’d known that interaction would be the last time I saw Oakley, I would’ve instead told her all the reasons I found her incredible.” Her throat constricted, but her words still came strong and stage-clear. “I would tell Oakley that she was an amazing friend. She really was.”
Embry nodded, her heart lifting as some in the crowd nodded at her. Yes, this was right.
“When we needed to save the school musical, Oakley joined up and took a big role. When the social committee wanted to perfect its homecoming theme, she didn’t hesitate to join, even with her commitments to the musical.” At this the rest of the cast began cheering. Tears formed in Embry’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Oakley adored her roommate, Magda; loved to sneak out as a bat to skirt curfew—sorry, Headmaster, but it’s true—and let Amethyst and me dress her up like our very own Goth Barbie.”
Embry glanced back at Ames, saw her crying sheets over her magically fortified makeup, and turned back to the crowd, nodding now. “I know so many of you here identified with Oakley because she identified with you—Stitch, Glitch, Bitch, or Witch—she was all of us.”
Embry looked out over the bobbing heads, flickering candles, and magical decorations, and found her favorite pair of grounding, loving green eyes.
“And even though she was taken too soon, we won’t forget her. Our homecoming royal, our vampire, our friend—Oakley Riddle.”
EPILOGUE
WELCOME TO HAPPILY EVER AFTER
