Chapter 35
Clare sat on a bench in the graveyard next to her father.
The sky glowed red on the horizon—the sun had set a while ago, but it was that last hurrah of summer that only October could deliver.
Winter was around the corner. It was a time of year she had always loved—its gentle sadness had never worried her, and now she understood why.
Inside the family home next door, Oliver was helping her mom with the dishes after a very pleasant evening meal. She could hear their chatter, Oliver’s deep laugh and her mom’s mellow chuckle. Clare’s heart settled in her chest. Oliver and her mom were getting on famously by the sound of things.
The family had been remarkably cool about the fact she was romantically involved with a vampire—and her boss at that (soon to be ex-boss).
They had agreed not to mention the small matter of him having turned her.
Not with Trina there—she was prone to get hysterical, so they’d decided to tell her parents when the other guests had left.
But first, Clare needed to raise her necromancy heritage with her father.
“Dad, I have a question.”
“Yes, honey?”
Clare twisted her fingers in her lap. “I need to check out something about our family background.”
“Sure.”
“This may seem a strange question, but how old are you?”
She sensed her father glancing sideways at her. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve never said. And it seems like you don’t age much, and we’ve lived here a long time but there’s no real history of our family anywhere, apart from a few photographs.
You and Mom never talk about the past. And we do seem to have been kept at a distance by the townsfolk.
” She paused. “I used to get called a zombie at school, and honestly, I was always happiest right here in the graveyard. There were so many things that didn’t add up—until I found out that… I have necromancer blood in my veins.”
Her dad sat silent, staring at his hands in his lap.
“Dad? Did you know?”
“Yes, yes, I’ve known for many years,” he said quietly.
“And Mom? Is she… too?”
“Yes, she is also descended from necromancers, but she tries to deny it, even to herself, to fit in with the Tween wives. We met at college. A fortune teller at a fair told us soon after that we were necromancers. It made sense. Your grandparents on both sides were slightly odd folks who spent a lot of time chatting to dead souls and we have records that confirm our background. I never really thought much of it, and as you know, we’re all very comfortable being among the dead.
As for age, I am ninety-seven, and your grandparents on both sides lived to be well over two hundred. ”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Your mom and I thought it would… make you and Adam feel different.”
“Dad, I always felt different. I always got treated differently as school.”
Her father sighed. “I know, sweetheart. I hoped in time things would normalize.”
“Who needs normal?” Clare huffed. “When I went to work in Motham, that was when I—I felt like I belonged for the first time. And then when I met Oliver, it was like it was meant to be.” She didn’t mention that maybe they had started off on the wrong footing; Dad didn’t need the details.
“It sounds a bit woo woo, but it was like we were drawn to one another. He’s had such awful trauma in the past. He lost his family, they all died in the mass staking in 48,356. ”
“I know,” her father said softly.
Clare’s head swiveled, eyes like saucers. “You know?! We didn’t discuss that over dinner.”
Her father stood up, and smiled down at her a little sadly.
“I think it’s time you rescued Oliver from the washing up. Bring him and your mom out here. I have something to show you all.”
When Clare walked into the kitchen, Oliver could tell by her relieved expression that she’d had the conversation with her dad.
He’d been getting on splendidly with her mom.
Laura Doyle had a sparkly sense of fun, and the same thick curls as her daughter.
If you had to have a mom-in-law, which he guessed it would come to eventually, he’d do okay with Laura, he was sure.
“Guys, Dad wants to show us something in the graveyard,” Clare said.
He looked at her, perplexed.
Her mom sighed. “Your dad probably has another hare-brained plan for improvements. I keep telling him there’s not much improvement to a graveyard except to add another soul.” She winked at Oliver. “Not a problem you have to face, Oliver.”
“True,” Oliver laughed ruefully.
Clare came over and folded her hand into his and led him outside and through the graves, her mom following.
Ben Doyle was standing by a small corner plot, head bent as if he were praying.
When they stopped beside him, Ben pointed to a small memorial stone, recently uncovered by the look of the earth dug around it.
A familiar vibration started in Oliver’s finger. The magick was at work. He rotated his ring, glancing down at it. What on earth was this about?
“Please, look at the inscription on the stone, Oliver,” Ben said quietly.
Oliver bent down and read the words in the dying light.
In memorial
Here lie the hallowed remains of
Abraham Hale, his wife Katharine and daughter Effie.
Who perished at the hands of humans
On October 31st
48,356
May they rest in peace
And may their legacy bring harmony to
All sentient beings in these blessed
Valley Lands
Tears spiked the back of his eyes. The Hale ring was fully alive now, the heat of it almost searing his skin.
He groped for Clare’s hand as she crouched down next to him, and heard a little sniffle. He knew she too was weeping.
They stayed like this for several minutes, heads bowed, Clare’s parents standing quietly behind them.
Finally, Oliver asked, “How long have you known about this memorial, Ben?”
“Only a few weeks. I was digging the other day, clearing to make more land available, and there it was. I believe my parents would have buried your family’s ashes here after the great staking, hidden from view but safe and consecrated.”
“I owe your family a deep debt of gratitude,” Oliver said softly.
“I used to sit here as a little girl,” Clare mused, “right in this corner of the graveyard, talking to the dead. I had no idea this headstone was under the briar bushes, but maybe, who knows, my darling, maybe your family were talking to me, guiding me.”
“That is a beautiful thought.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and for a while more they stayed like that, quiet, in reverence. Finally, Oliver stood, helped Clare to her feet. He gazed into her eyes with a question in his, and she smiled sweetly and gave a nod of assent.
Together, they turned to her parents, hands clasped tightly together.
It was time to come clean about their eternal mate bond.
Oliver drew in a deep breath. “Clare and I have some news to share with you…”