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“Just because I helped save Pax’s life doesn’t mean you can all start quoting that playwright willy-nilly,” Edward huffs. “I still havesomestandards.”
I rub my eyes. I’m so fucking tired. It must be after three in the morning now. And I still have to figure out what to do with Father Bryne. I can’t leave him here – I’m pretty sure B&B guests leave bad reviews if they discover a murdered priest in the entranceway.
I could call the police and say…what? Pax and I were the only ones home, the only Living humans who could have shot that gun. Father Bryne had been staying with us for weeks, letting people in the community get to know him as a kindly man of God. Wilson won’t believe I mistook him for an intruder. And Pax doesn’t exactly have records like a birth certificate or a passport. That’s going to make him more suspicious than his penchant for stabbing.
If they discover Father Bryne’s body, one or both of us is going down for his murder. And I’m so exhausted that it almost sounds like a relief.
Ambrose must be thinking the same thing. “Perhaps you could bring the priest back to life, as you did to Pax? It’s not ideal, I admit, but you cannot be accused of murder if no murder took place.”
The idea of pressing my lips to the priest makes bile rise in my throat, but Ambrose has a point.
However, when I bend over to inspect Father Bryne’s body, I realize that’s no longer an option. I can’t see any trace of a silver cord. I pull out the priest’s cross from my pocket, but it’s no longer leaking the red mist. Once again, I have no idea how I know this, but I sense that Father Bryne can no longer be brought back the way I brought Pax back. And I can’t see his ghost nearby, so he has no unfinished business.
Good.I surprise myself with the ferocity of the thought. Father Bryne was a murderer. He brought Jack the Ripper back to life…or a semblance of life…to kill Lazarii like me and Vera. He sent his monster afterPax. The world is better off without him.
But the ring of red spreading across the rug is a problem.
Edward floats over, his eyes dropping to the body before returning to meet my gaze. His mask of princely arrogance is firmly back in place, leaving no trace of the vulnerability back in the graveyard. “As much as I’d like to take you to your boudoir right now and ravish you with all of my ghostly tricks, what are we going to do about the good father?”
“I don’t know…” I say honestly. “He can’t stay here, but gosh darn it, with all my travelling I never had the time to take a class in body disposal. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
Edward shakes his head sadly. “My father always had the palace guard deal with the mess after he got a little enthusiastic with the beheading blade. I don’t suppose you’re suddenly flush with cash so you can hire that shirtless Spartan fellow to kick him into a demonic abyss?”
It took a second for my sleep-deprived brain to catch on to what he was talking about. “That’s Leonidas from the movie300. He doesn’t exist. Well, he did exist, thousands of years ago, but he doesn’t now, and I haven’t seen his ghost around. Besides, we don’t need a burly, Spartan king when we have Pax.”
“Yes, I am here to serve Bree.” Pax takes a deep bow, then starts rolling up Father Bryne in the rug. “I know what we should do with him. He was a Roman, like me! So we give him a Roman funeral. It’s the only right and proper thing to do to honour the gods and wipe away Ambrose’s guilt for being the one who killed him.”
“He’s a RomanCatholic, Pax. It’s not quite the same thing.”
“I don’t know this Catholic – is it a province we conquered?” Pax’s face lit up. “I love conquering new provinces. It means we get more takeaway options back in Rome.”
“If Pax is going to get rid of old monster-britches’ corpse for us, I say we humour him,” Edward says.
I’m barely listening. My gaze is distracted by something I see out the front window. A figure is walking up the driveway toward the front door. A veryfamiliarfigure wearing an incredible purple-edged toga.
No.
Not now.
Of course now. Because that’s how my life works. It all goes to shit at once.
Pax hoists Father Bryne’s rolled-up body onto his shoulders. “Yes! We shall give him a proper send-off.”
“And just what exactly does that involve?” Ambrose asks tentatively.
The figure steps around the zodiac mosaic, and the moonlight captures her features and the determined look on her face. Raw panic courses through me, especially since Pax is now blocking the doorway with Father Bryne’s body rolled up in the carpet.His rosary is sticking out the end.
But if she’s here, maybe…
Maybe I can dare to hope…
Maybe it’s time I truly let her in, let her see all of me.
“First, we must have a loud funeral procession through the streets of the village,” Pax declares. “We bang drums so that everyone comes out. Then we take him to the graveyard and light an enormous fire and throw his corpse upon it, and collect the remains and place them inside an urn. Then we will host a mighty feast in his honour, with the finest wine and prostitutes we can afford. I will go next door and ask Maggie if she can bring along enough scones for the whole village—”
“As much as I personally would like a Roman funeral when I die, especially one with scones, I don’t think a procession and a feast will help us keep this a secret.” I wave at the figure as she steps onto the porch. “But maybe Dani will help us.”
“Bree? What are you doing awake?” Dani steps onto the porch. This close, I see her eyes are ringed in red. She looks as tired and wrung out as I feel.
