Page 136 of Sin

Holding President Osborne’s gaze now as we sat before Lewis’s casket, I wondered if she’d ever regretted her decision in letting us go. She certainly didn’t hold any fond feelings for me, if her expression were any indication.

“Stop it,” London muttered, elbowing me and making me flinch back. When I shot him a glare, he glared right back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond really. After that night, we’d been taken to the hospital. We’d used the blood we’d been given, sure, but it wasn’t enough to heal us completely.

When we’d showed up, I’d been taken immediately to an operating room. The doctors wanted to repair as much damage. Turned out, Keith had only managed to slice one of my vocal chords, but the damage was severe.

I’d woken to Mend checking my chart over and giving me a hard look. He’d been pretty damn mad at me, not that I blamed him since I’d forced him to give us his blood. But despite his anger, he’d removed the tracker from my skin and let me know that I’d need a few more surgeries for my throat. But he believed with some time and healing, I’d be able to talk somewhat normally again. My voice would most likely never be the same as before that night at Keith’s, and he wasn’t sure how it would affect using my power.

That had been… surprisingly rough to hear. But I’d lost my power before. I would deal with it again. Even if I currently sounded like I’d been smoking two packs of cigarettes for the past twenty years.

The pastor closed his Bible and asked the congregation to stand. As we all rose and sang one final song asking God to be with us until we met again, it hit me once again that Lewis was truly gone.

His body wasn’t actually inside the casket resting at the front of the room. Lewis had asked in his will to be cremated, and his ashes to be given to our team to do with as we pleased. The casket was instead filled with all of his favorite things. Everything from his Super suit, to several CDs from some of his favorite music artists. There was candy, and pictures of him and the team that Blade had downloaded from his phone and printed off. Before they’d closed the casket, however, I’d spied Jinx swipe Lewis’s ridiculous safety glasses and pocket them in his suit jacket. None of us said anything. Because we all understood.

Blade clutched the silver urn holding his ashes to her chest as the church filled with music. She didn’t sing. None of us did, but we listened as the congregation sang the remaining lyrics.

Afterward, the pastor invited the pallbearers to come carry the casket. The five of us stood and moved to our positions around the casket. Jinx and Mare carried the left while London and I carried the right. Blade trailed behind us as we transported the casket outside the church and to the waiting hearse.

The congregation followed after us, and I could feel the weight of all their stares as we helped the hearse driver place the casket properly in the back of the hearse.

With the funeral service over, most of those who’d attended left. Some stragglers stopped by to visit with the Legion, but I hung back, not feeling like socializing. I was getting enough suspicious looks as it was. I didn’t think I could take any verbal attacks right now. Not today. Not when I felt so raw.

London met my eyes over the head of some girl who’d come to offer the team her condolences. His eyes said what his mouth didn’t. Lewis had been his. His to take care of. His to protect. And he felt like he’d failed him.

We’d all failed him.

President Osborne drew London aside at one point, leaving the team and me to pile into our van. Jinx sat behind the driver’s seat, his face contorted into a mask of anger and pain.

We didn’t say anything while we waited for London to join us. Didn’t say anything as we drove to the graveside. No, we didn’t even speak as we watched from afar as the funeral home lowered the casket into the ground.

Sometimes, silence helped soothe better than words.

When the casket was covered with dirt and the workers left, we finally moved to stand before Lewis’s grave. There wasn’t a stone yet. The funeral home said it could take several weeks to get the one we wanted placed. So for now, they’d marked the plot with his name, birthday, and death date.

Blade set the urn on the freshly packed earth.

The air chilled as the sun shifted across the sky, and as we sat there in a circle around the plot, Jinx pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his suit jacket pocket. How he managed to hide so many random things in his clothes, I still hadn’t figured out.

He popped the cap off and took a swig before passing it on to Blade. We all took turns taking a drink from it, letting the alcohol warm our blood even though it couldn’t warm our souls. Well, everyone but me. It was Blade who eventually broke the silence telling us a story about when she’d been sick and Lewis had rushed to the store and gotten her one of every kind of cold medicine they’d offered. Jinx went next, talking about how he’d once told Jinx he was taking him to a bar, only for them to arrive at a Taylor Swift concert. He told us that Lewis knew every word to every song, and even though he’d acted putout to be there, Jinx had secretly enjoyed himself. He said he wished he had told Lewis that.

Mare and London told stories of their own, and I listened and laughed and cried right alongside them as they shared their memories about their fallen friend. I simply listened, content for now to hear more about the man who’d saved my life.

London pulled out Lewis’s phone from his pocket, something he’d managed to keep from being confiscated. He scrolled through the most recent photos and videos Lewis had taken of the team. There was one of us all at the gas station. Jinx was ruffling Blade’s hair, much to her annoyance. Mare was flipping off the camera, even as she gave it a small smirk. London and I were crowded side by side, and while I grinned at the camera, London’s full attention was on my face. And then there was Lewis, cheesing front and center at the camera.

There were the videos of all of us performing our dares, Lewis’s boisterous laughter and words a loud commentary in the background.

There were lots more pictures and videos, some of us in the van or plane, a few random ones from various pit stops. But in each one, he’d photobombed the shot. In each one, he smiled that bright smile of his. With each one, the team laughed and smiled and cried.

“So,” Mare said, breaking the silence after London had pocketed Lewis’s phone once more, picking a dandelion from the ground. “What did President Osborne want?”

London blew out a long breath and leaned back on his hands. “She offered us our positions back.”

“No shit?” Blade asked, sitting up straighter.

“No shit.” London continued gazing down at the bottle of whiskey. “I told her we’d think about it, obviously.”

Jinx smirked. “Obviously.”

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