Page 77 of All Saints Day
Almost as quickly, I see the horrible sight of Patrick—bleeding out in Francis’ arms, an almost identical scene transposes over the tragic tableau; Frank clutching the lifeless Mike as he keens and wails—Susan Lowry standing over his shoulder like an angel of death in both memories.
When I awake, I’m in the back of a kitchily-outfitted Airstream trailer.
I blink my eyes into focus–everything outfitted in red andwhite gingham with green ticky tacky and hand-rendered fabric painted strawberries; my surroundings gently vibrating as we trundle down some anonymous highway.
My hand lifts to my mouth, Frank’s bite still hot and tender through the left side of my bottom lip.
There’s a dull warmth at the other end of the bond as I feel my bite mirrored on my fated mate—the response to my call is weak, but still unquestionably there.
I drift into sleep again, plagued by dreams that may or may not belong to me.
A woman’s hand turns a card, a knight on a white horse in black armor brandishing a sword.
Upon closer inspection, the knight bears the likeness of Frank, face clean shaven—a more discerning look revealing that the sword is not adorned with a black rose, but with the turret of a castle rendered in glossy black stone.
I can feel his loneliness—Francis Castle; the depth of his pain, a bottomless pit.
The woman’s hand turns another card. A man and a woman standing in high grass—nude, holding hands; a quintet of angels hovering above as the clouds part to beam sunlight down on the happy pair.
An eerie chill falls as I realize that the woman in the grass, with her long scarlet waves, wearsmyface.
I don’t feel a great deal more comfort when I realize that the man standing beside me is none other than Michael Duboze; the angels above us lending a sliver of hope as I regard them from left to right: A pale blond angelic rendering of Caz, Sébastien looking more like a powerful bronzed demi-god with his impressive wingspan and cascade of dark curls, Dennis and Quentin hovering just beside him with Frank hovering just above them all.
Before I can reach out and touch the tall, skinny rectangle of printed paper, the scent of balsam, rich plum brandy, and deep, spicy black pepper fillsmy nose.
Michael.
We’re standing in the Alerion Hotel, just like the night he and Frank bonded.
He’s taller than Frank, almost as massive as Q and so much more handsome than his photos—which made him look like an old timey movie star to begin with—gave him credit for.
Mike stalks toward me in the cool blue light of night—the city skyline twinkling behind him through the massive windows.
We gravitate toward one another, taking step after step forward until we’re so close that I can feel his body heat in the narrow space between us.
There’s so many things I want to ask him. So many things that I want to say.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.” He smiles weakly and reaches down to cup my face.
I hadn’t realized until this very moment that both of us are completely naked, just like the illustrations of us on the tarot card.
“I wanted so badly to meet all of you, to be with you.” Michael blinks away a few tears, and I feel my heart breaking for the fated mate I never met.
“Me too. I’m so—so sorry,” I weep, wiping my tears from my eyes with the backs of my hands like a child.
When I open my eyes, we are no longer at the Alerion. We are in a meadow of tall sweet grass; the sun shining overhead—a host of angels descending from the clouds.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Louise.” Michael smiles sadly, his face dipping down to mine.
“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” he whispers—our lips ghosting against one another. “Promise me you’ll take care of all of them—love them in my place.”
“I vow to always uphold this oath—to forever be the morning star for my pack, my fated mates, including you,” I sob.
“Thank you, Lucifer,” he sighs, sealing our covenant with a kiss.
Our lips meet, our arms tangle around one another; the two of us suddenly swallowed up by impassioned flame.
But when I pull my face back from Michael’s—I am standing alone at the edge of a black stone parapet, watching him plummet to his death below with a smile on his face.
