We slow to a stop at the tall row of vaults lining the back wall… right in front of one open vault. It is clearly awaiting the arrival of Mr. Flores. In front of the vault, stands a temporary platform on which they set the coffin. The family gathers around and the pallbearers step to the side and wait. All, aside from one who joins the family. Luna’s uncle, I assume.
The priest delivers a lovely eulogy, and when he’s finished, the escort invites the members of the family to participate. Mrs. Flores steps forward and shares a few lovely memories. The share is contagious because his family all choose to say a few words. First, Mr. Flores’ brother, then his father and mother. Luna declines to speak and chooses to stand just far enough back that she could disappear if she so desired.
When everyone has spoken their desired shares, the escort steps forward and lifts the lid of the casket. “Anyone wish to whisper a final goodbye to our loved one?”
My heart jumps against my ribcage, and I suck back a breath. Luna glances at her dad within the box and turns away. Her mother does the same. But her grandmother, her father’s mother, falls to her knees beside the coffin and breaks into sobs.
I find myself overcome with a morbid sense of curiosity, grandma’s words still holding strong in my thoughts. They continue to work long after the soul should be at rest. I inch forward, stare into the casket. Stare straight at Mr. Flores’ face. Never before have I gazed upon a dead man, but I don’t feel like this is the way a dead man should look. There’s more color in his skin than I would have expected.
“Hold on,” I say to Luna and maneuver through the members of her family, moving closer to the open coffin.
My stare is intense and unwavering. Something in my vision flickers. Did his eye just twitch, or was there a fly on his face? I step to the front of the group and slide in beside Luna’s sobbing grandma. I lean closer to the opening and the body of Luna’s father.
The lid crashes to a close before me. I jolt back and lock eyes with the beady-eyed escort. His glare is tight on me. And for those forever-fleeting moments that our glares are connected, I get the feeling he is trying to prevent me from knowing some truth regarding Luna’s dad.
The escort steps back and gestures to the pallbearers. Stepping forward, they each take their position along the sides of the casket and lift. Move to slide the coffin within the open vault.
“Wait.” I reach forward in a stop-now motion.
Everyone pauses and stares at me. Luna rushes to my side. “What are you doing?”
“He’s not dead,” I say. “I don’t think he’s dead.”
The old priest shakes his head and turns away. The escort stares at me, his brows raised, and the pallbearers begin to lift the casket once more.
“Please. Don’t.” I push my hand out signaling them to stop. “Don’t you want to make sure I’m wrong? Open the coffin and check him. Just check him.”
“What are you doing?” Luna’s mom says. “You come here, to the burial of my husband, and make a scene? Why? Why would you do that?” Her gaze snaps to Luna. “Why would you do that to Luna?”
“I’m doing this because I care about Luna, and I don’t want her to make a larger-than-death mistake,” I say, voice raised.
Luna’s arms drop to her side, and she stares at me. Doesn’t move.
“Please,” I beg. “Just check him. Make sure he’s really, truly dead before you encase him in brick.”
“We need you to go,” the escort says with a harsh voice.
“Not until you make sure. That’s all I’m asking.” My gaze shifts from Luna, who appears lost in thought, to her mom.
“Go,” her mom says.
With Mrs. Flores’ decisive word, two men step away from the casket and grab me, drag me away. The entire funeral party stares at me causing my cheeks to flush with heat. Before I lose sight of the group, even Luna looks my way. The men drag me down row after row until they deposit me outside of the cemetery.
“You will not care for the consequences, should you try to return to the funeral party,” the taller guy says.
“I would advise against it,” says the other. “Go home, little witch.”
They turn and walk back into the cemetery.
I am not going home. I won’t abandon Luna. I bite my nails and pace in front of the cemetery entrance.
Grandma’s words return to my thoughts once more. They continue to work long after the soul should be at rest. What if Luna’s father is forbidden to rest because of his contract with the bokor? What if I can do something to prevent that, but don’t?
What could I possibly do?
“Hey you.”
I spin around to find a young version of Cruella de Vil, if Cruella were to swap her white hair for red. Black hair dripping down one side of her face, and red down the other, the girl is a walking symbol of darkness and blood. So very New Orleans dark side.
She adjusts the hood of her black pullover and steps forward. Something about the girl is off, and I can’t pinpoint what it is. Her skin, her eyes, her sunken cheekbones… she doesn’t give off a healthy vibe.
“Haven’t seen your type around as much these past few years.” She glances over me.
“My kind?” My head angles, jerks back.
“You know exactly what I mean, blood witch.” She takes another step forward, and I take a step back.
“Relax,” she blurts. “I have no intention of hurting you. You belong to another.” Her hand is in constant motion, her fingers flicking and flicking at the empty air.
“What are you talking about? I belong to no one.” I punch my fists into my hips.
“Hmmm.” She raises her chin and narrows her eyes. Glances to the cemetery entrance. “Kick you out, did
