Page 18 of SIN Bone Deep

I glanced over my shoulder and the young man’s grin was wide and delighted. I smothered my smirk as I turned back to the funeral, sobering as I remembered why we were there.

The aunts and I stood respectfully to the rear of the gathering, and still our presence drew glances from those around us. I was not imagining the hostility. I knew the feeling well - ever since the day Nova, and I had been brought to Mortensby by our mother. My aunts didn’t even seem to notice it. I did not know if they were so skilled at appearing indifferent, or if they had truly become immune to its effects.

The words of the priest as the little coffin lowered into the ground were lost in the whip of the wind that seemed determined to disrupt the ceremony. Many of the mourners had opened umbrellas in anticipation of rainfall, and the wind billowed the sails, threatening to invert the canopy and making the ribs strain to hold their shape. I pressed my thighs together, discretely capturing my skirt between them to prevent the wind from lifting it.

As the formalities ended and the gathering broke, many queuing to give the family their final regards and condolences for their loss, but more scattering around the cemetery, heading off for shelter and a drink before the weather broke, I saw a man separate himself from his company and head our way.

His expression was solemn.

“Ah, here we go,” Callista sighed wearily, anticipating, as we all were, that he had been delegated to send us on our way. “We were just leaving,” she told him as he reached us.

“My apologies,” he said. “I hope that I may be able to detain you for a moment. My name is Harvey. Harvey Ashbourne. I am the new Dean of Pinegrove Academy. I am told that you are the Vossen family and that this is Elenyx Vossen?”

“That is so,” Callista evaluated him with a slight frown pinching her brows.

“It is nice to meet you, Mr Ashbourne,” Fennel intercepted, softening Callista’s reserve. “This is, indeed, Elenyx.”

“Elenyx,” he held out his hand, and when I uncertainly placed my palm on his, clasped his other hand over it, a smile lighting his eyes. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I was very impressed by your submission essay and the scores from your entrance test. Your grades were the highest I saw this year, and the combination made you the clear leader for the scholarship. I am hoping you’ll accept the position at our school, and I am very much looking forward to showing you our facilities next Monday during orientation.”

“I’ll be accepting,” I told him, breathless. His gaze was intense, and his hands heated mine between them. “And I’ll be there on Monday.”

“Wonderful,” he said warmly. “You will be a valuable addition to our community of students. I am very pleased to have had this opportunity to meet you in advance, even if the event is,” his expression became solemn. “A tragic one. It is nice to see the community come together in support of the bereaved. I will leave you, then,” he squeezed my hand slightly as he inclined his head. “Until Monday.” His hands lingered on mine as he stepped back and he released me only at the last moment, inclining his head politely to both the aunts, before striding back to rejoin the group of people by the grave.

“I think we’ll be adding some extra spells to that memento mori, Fennel,” Callista said quietly.

“Mhm,” Fennel replied in agreement.

“Why?” I frowned at them both, confused and unnerved by the encounter. “He seemed very nice,” I added as the aunts exchanged a look and linked arms again, turning towards the car. “Didn’t he?” I questioned as I trailed behind.

The red-haired young man was no longer under the tree.

“What spells will you be adding?” I insisted as we reached the car and Callista searched her purse for the keys.

“You!” A woman cried out and I turned in horror as the mother of the little girl came towards me. Her fury turned her face monstrous, her teeth bared, and hair and eyes wild, her fingers clawed. She had broken away from a group entering a car that had pulled to the curb to our left, and they all followed behind her in alarm, reaching out to catch her and failing.

She seized me by the shoulders, her fingers digging into my flesh as she shook me, her spittle, snot, and tears spraying me as she fought to get the words out that she needed to stay. “It should have been you! She deserved life! She was beautiful and brilliant, and you… you…”

“Bianca,” a woman pulled her away and wrapped her arms around her, cradling her skull. “Oh Bianca…” She glared at me over Bianca’s head, before turning and trying to steer her away. But the woman broke free and backhanded me across the face, taking me by surprise so that I fell to the side, almost dragging Aunt Fennel down with me when she tried to catch me.

“Now that is more than enough!” Callista cried out inserting herself between us, and planting the tip of her closed umbrella down on the concrete as a paladin might have done his spear. “Your grief does not give you authority to strike my niece, nor to say such hateful things to her. We have been indulgent in your pain and turned the other cheek to your unjustified victimization of Elenyx. She is not responsible for the death of your child.

“She was simply the unfortunate observer of your tragedy. She was the one there offering comfort to your child as she died. She was the last gentle touch, the kind hand that held hers, as she passed from this life. You should be grateful that your child’s final moments were not spent alone, but that Nyx’s compassion saw her not only offer comfort but then seek out immediate help. Instead, you are here spitting vileness in my beautiful, gentle-hearted niece’s face and striking her!

She drew in a deep breath through her nostrils and released it slowly, having silenced the weeping family. “We will forgive the assault. But I want you to go away with the thought that Elenyx has only recently turned eighteen. Barely an adult herself. Only a scant handful of years older than your daughter. If the position were reversed, would you accept us laying the burden of guilt at your daughter’s feet?”

“I am sorry, Callista,” a woman from amongst the group said softly.

“Grace,” a man complained. “Don’t - ”

“No,” she held up her hand, silencing him. “No, Chris. You know what they did when Matt… Without Callista and Fennel, I would… well,” she shook her head. “They believed me when the rest of you tried to ignore the bruises. They helped me when none of you would.”

“Grace,” Callista’s expression softened. “I am sorry. I did not connect you with this tragedy.”

“It’s okay,” Grace smiled sorrowfully. “You cannot know every family tree in Mortensby, Callista. Chris is my cousin, and Bianca, here is his wife’s sister. So it’s a convoluted connection at best - ”

“All the more reason you should stay silent!” Bianca wailed.

“Whilst you strike a helpless child whose only crime was riding her bike up the same hill at the same time as yours died?” Grace retorted. “I’m sorry, I see no sense in that. I’m sorry, Callista,” she repeated. “And I’m sorry…”

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