Chapter 16
I followed behind Chance in my own car for the short drive back to my parents’ house, amazed at how unsettlingly foreign the streets of Auburn felt to me now.
Until six months ago, this town was the only home I’d ever known, and yet I felt like I could be driving through any upper middle class suburb for all the connection I felt to the place.
Leon and Tobin were kicking a ball around with Creed in the front yard when I arrived.
They spared me a wave before returning to their game, which stung a little, but I was used to it.
The age gap between us—a strange one that had baffled the entire community and my parents when Mother had realized she was pregnant—was too big for us to have a regular sibling relationship.
But at least I’d had Mercy. She was more like a sibling to me than my little brothers were.
Everyone else seemed to be busy getting ready, so I made my way directly to her room—my old room—with my garment bag slung over my arm, makeup case in one hand and heels dangling from the other.
“Come in,” Mercy called when I knocked on the door, and I slipped inside before Mother could dash out and accost me from the master bedroom across the hallway.
The room was still the same garish shade of lavender that Mother had painted it when I was young, with the same white wicker furniture she’d chosen, and the white quilt with ruffles around the edges she was so fond of.
I’d found it monstrous when I was growing up, and I knew my cousin wasn’t a fan either.
Mercy was sitting at the vanity with her back to me.
Her naturally curly black hair had been twisted into the kind of prom-ready curls that Mother approved of, and was pulled back into an elegant updo.
She paused with her eyeliner hovering in front of her face, giving me a weak smile when she saw me.
“No hug?” I teased, setting my things down.
“Of course you get a hug,” she said, setting her makeup down, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around my waist.
“I missed you,” I told her, giving her a quick squeeze before stepping back and fixing the sleeves of her high-necked black A-line dress I’d messed up.
She didn’t seem as bitter as she’d sounded on the phone yesterday, and I didn’t want her to think there were lingering hard feelings because of that one conversation, but her mood wasn’t quite as peppy as usual either.
Still, no need to make a big deal out of that. Despite what Mother thought, we were all entitled to have bad days.
“Come on, I’ll do my makeup with you,” I said, leading her back to the vanity and setting my own stuff up on the corner, bending over awkwardly to see my reflection. “How are you feeling today?”
I glanced at her carefully in the mirror, noticing a hint of sadness in her eyes that wasn’t usually there, that she was valiantly trying to cover up.
I knew better than anyone what it was to cover up emotions.
“I found out this morning we have to go back to the community center,” she replied, her voice a little too cheery to be natural. “We rushed yesterday to try to get it done, but it needs touch ups.”
“It’s the one just outside Milton, right?”
“Yep,” Mercy practically squeaked. Huh .
I struggled to think of what could possibly upset her or throw her off-balance about that.
Maybe she didn’t like spending time near Milton?
She’d never visited me there, but neither had anyone else in my family except Chance, who’d helped me move in.
I doubted Mercy would be allowed to visit my apartment even if she wanted to.
“Did anyone find a soul bond?” I asked, carefully applying concealer around my bruised eye. Those projects were mostly an excuse for mingling under the guise of charity. Sugar, Mother was going to be furious if I couldn’t make this eye look somewhat presentable in front of the whole community.
“Find their soul bond?” Mercy replied with a borderline hysteric laugh before busying herself looking through her lipstick selection. “That would be something.”
I frowned at her in the mirror, my concealer stick hovering near my face.
She sort of had that look in her eye that I got when I was desperately wishing I could tell a lie, though I didn’t think Mercy had that same darkness lurking in her that I did.
There was probably an innocent explanation.
Maybe she was jealous that someone else had met their soul bond, but didn’t want to talk about it?
“If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.
If you specifically don’t want to talk about anything, I’m here for that too,” I told her, giving her a smile in the mirror that I hoped was comforting.
She didn’t need me putting pressure on her to talk.
I’m sure my mother was doing a fine job of that already.
“Can we not talk about it?” Mercy whispered, blinking back tears. “I think I did something bad and…I don’t want to lose you.”
I grabbed her hand and gave it a tight squeeze.
“You never could, I promise. We don’t have to talk about it now—you can tell me when you’re ready—but please come to me if you need help, Mercy.
I’m sure whatever you did, that it isn’t as bad as you think, and you’re never alone as long as I’m around.
You don’t have to go through this by yourself. ”
She squeezed my hand back before releasing it and returning to her makeup, and I forced myself to do the same, even as the unsettling realization that she didn’t entirely believe me lingered at the back of my mind.
* * *
I fidgeted uncomfortably in the one black dress I owned, smoothing out the full skirt unnecessarily and tugging down the three-quarter length sleeves as we all waited in the foyer of the auditorium.
Mother shot me a chastising glare, and I gripped my nude clutch tighter in both hands in front of me to stop myself from fussing, wishing I’d chosen more comfortable shoes than the nude pumps with the ankle straps that were currently murdering the balls of my feet.
I had taken extra care to look the part, twisting my hair back into a demure chignon that showcased the simple diamond studs my parents had gifted me for my 21st birthday, and applying my barely there makeup flawlessly, though my eye was still obviously swollen.
Mercy and I looked like good little agathos robots, and I had a feeling we were both trying not to draw any attention to ourselves today.
Mother had given me a onceover and offered zero critiques, which was basically unheard of.
Maybe she was feeling one percent guilty about the outreach trip.
All of my parents had been unusually quiet with me except for Chance, and they hadn’t even protested when I’d driven my own car here so I could leave straight after the service.
This auditorium in central Auburn, opposite the town hall, was the one used for all big agathos events north of New York.
It was a starkly bright space, with white coffered ceilings, white carpet, white walls, even white pews.
The only splashes of color were the gold chandeliers overhead, the black outfits of the guests and the pale gold curtains I could just glimpse in the main room through the double doors as we waited in the receiving line.
The mood at this memorial was even more somber than that of a regular funeral.
Joy Lyon had died in a car accident aged 40, leaving behind her four bonded and three young children.
Usually, after bonding, the women in our community were so well protected that this kind of thing didn’t happen.
Or it was never just the woman, at least. My mother had already made one comment about Joy’s “independent spirit” that definitely hadn’t been a compliment.
We approached the front of the line, me standing behind my parents with Mercy, Leon, and Tobin, since as a single woman I was counted as a child at these events. Us “kids” stood silently while my parents murmured their condolences to the four broken looking men in front of us.
One of them, probably Joy’s consort, was taking the lead, stiffly thanking my parents for their words.
He was dressed in a suit like the others, but his dark hair threaded with gray was messy like he’d been tugging at it, and the smudges under his eyes were almost purple.
It had only been a week since she’d gone, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t slept since, organizing the private funeral then today’s public performance as well as looking after three grieving children.
My chest hurt, and I gave in to the urge to rub at my breastbone while my mother wasn’t watching.
I felt sorrow for them, though I hadn’t known Joy well and I didn’t know her bonded at all really.
They were 15 years older than me, and I’d just seen them around at events.
I suspected the pain in my chest was more to do with missing my own soul bond.
Comfort was a big part of what soul bonds provided, and it was difficult to be away from Riot at a time when I would have appreciated his emotional support.
The men’s three preteen children were surrounded by a huddle of grandparents in the corner, and I was glad they hadn’t been forced to stand with their dads to receive everyone like many agathos parents would have insisted on.
At least one of them was sobbing loud enough for us to hear from where we stood, drawing disapproving looks from older members of the community who tended to frown upon excessive displays of any kind of emotion.
Their mom had died a week ago, it wasn’t the time for observing social niceties. It was an effort not to openly glare at the judgmental spectators, but I was being on my absolute best behavior today. Just until I’d figured out a solution to this whole outreach issue.