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Twenty-Eight
Today ismy first real taste of the island air. So far, I’ve mostly been inside the castle, not out of it, and the sea breeze is like salve on a wound. I enjoy it more than I probably should on such a sombre occasion, but when I look over to Laila, I see her breathe deeply too.
Maybe we need this.
The school walks in procession. Apparently, Jenny’s body will be taken away by her family, so this isn’t technically a funeral. She isn’t with us. But it feels like a funeral.
No one did this for me, Cyrus says sadly.No one mourned me.
Tears prick my eyes. He’s right. While his mother poisoned him, his father’s severed head was presented to a battlefield. Shortly after the battle, the vampires were executed for not swearing allegiance to the new ways. No one mourned Cyrus because there was no one left to mourn him.
I shiver.I’m sorry, I tell him.
He doesn’t speak, but there’s a soft breath in my mind, like he’s trying to send me good thoughts or good vibes orsomething. It caresses something deep within me, as if Cyrus is trying to soothe my soul.
I turn my attention back to the island. The cliffs are high, with a turbulent sea below crashing against rocks, sending spray tens of feet into the air. No one could swim off the coast of this island, that’s for sure. It’d be the magical bridge for me.
The teachers reach a high point up on the cliff and stop. Standing in a line, they turn to face us.
All students gather as a crowd, and Octavia steps forward. “Honour our sister with your fire.”
There’s awhoomph,and half a dozen tiny flames form. They rise up above our heads, flickering like candle flames.
“Honour our sister with your water.”
I expect the same thing to happen with water, but instead, the crashing of the waves against the rocks calms, replaced by a gentle, rhythmic sloshing.
“Honour our sister with your wind.”
Laila inhales deeply and lifts her head. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and when I look up, I gasp. The flames are gently moving around in a circle, like a slow-moving tornado of candle flame.
“Honour our sister with your spirit.”
For a brief moment, I feel a sense of complete inner peace wash over me, and at that moment, I know that I am part of something. I am loved by the people around me.
I belong.
“Honour our sister with your howl.”
A shiver runs down my spine as several werewolves in the crowd tip back their heads and let out a heartbreakingly sad cry for Jenny Valetta.
“Honour our sister with your blessings.”
A quiet chorus of “blessed be” spreads around the witches, then it echoes and harmonises, rising up into the air.
Tears fill my eyes as the peace of spirit fills my body. Jenny was my age, and she lost her life. Anyone here could lose their life to the serial killer targeting us.
When I blink, the tears run down my cheeks. I look down at my feet, confused by this sudden welling of emotion, and when I raise my head, Cooper is staring at me. I wipe the tears away and smile, and he smiles back.
“Honour our sister with your connection to the otherworld.”
Necromancers,I think.
Four students I’ve never noticed before kneel down and place their hands on the grass, closing their eyes. Something stirs beneath my feet like a tiny earthquake rippling across the surface of the earth. Then the scent of moss and soil fills my nostrils. I can hear the worms moving through the ground and feel the cycle of nature.
Jenny will be committed to this earth, this ground under my shoes. She will be returned to the universe.
Octavia leads the procession again, and no one speaks on the way back to the school. The closer I get to the castle, the more I don’t want to enter. Inside those walls are death and confusion. Out here, the air is clean and fills me with a sense of freedom.
