Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Samael
We drop into the final future scene, the one that never gets easier, no matter how many people I help in this way. The funeral home itself isn’t cold and bleak, but the stark emptiness and sadness in the air matches my sullen and sour mood.
I knew I had to show Greer her bleak future and couldn’t hold back, but it’s been harder than I expected it to be. After spending time with her, the urge I felt at the ice rink to protect her, to keep her from harm, is back in full force but even stronger.
Seeing her in pain, experiencing it firsthand, shouldn’t affect me this much, but it is. I’m an empathic being, but this goes beyond my usual empathy for a job.
I’ve had to resist the urge to be soft, to bring her into my arms and finish early in each future vision I’ve shown her, but not only did she hold out her hand for me to bring her to this last one, I can also see she wants to experience what I have to show her. Greer Mallory is strong.
She observes the funeral home with wide eyes, her hands fisted and flexing at her sides.
She takes a few steps down the aisle lined with empty chairs. Her gaze travels over them, and she stops to grip the back of one of them, looking forward. “Is this my—”
Her question cuts off when she sees the funeral director walk up onto the small stage and step past a silver urn on a platform. Next to it is a large image of the Greer we saw before but older.
“I’m dead,” Greer says, gripping the chair tighter while turning to look at me.
I swallow down my continued urges to protect her from this and take a step forward. “Yes. This is your funeral.”
She stares at the photo of herself, brow furrowed. “How old was I?”
I shake my head. “I can’t tell you that.”
She pauses and looks around again. “Nobody is here, Sam.”
Her voice is strained, and I take another step closer so I’m at her back, my mouth near her ear. “There’s one.”
I point to the right side in the front where there’s a single woman with gray hair in a modest black dress sitting and looking straight forward.
“Who?”
“Go find out.”
Greer’s steps are tentative and small, so unlike the self-assured woman who stalked into the bar three nights ago and demanded the Wi-Fi password. But she’s being brave, regardless.
“Avery,” she says under her breath. The woman looks up as if she heard Greer, but she didn’t—she’s looking at the funeral director.
“You can start,” she says.
The man looks out over the empty seats. “You’re sure?”
“Nobody else is coming.”
Greer’s jaw clenches, emotions flooding through her at rapid speed: anger, sadness, fear, and confusion.
“Very well then.” The director picks up a sheet from the podium in front of him and begins to read from it.
“Greer Mallory was a dedicated professional and successful business owner. In her life, she was known for her sharp mind, drive for excellence, and being the best in the investment real estate world. She could take any underperforming company and turn it into a thriving business.”
Greer bounces her eyes between Avery and the funeral director. Her fists are clenched to near white, and I see her blink enough that I know she’s fighting off tears. I start to move closer to her but stop when Remi’s voice enters my mind.
Let her feel it, Sam. Focus on her aura, on the healing gold.
I run my tongue over the top of my teeth and hold in a sigh.
I know he’s right, and when I focus on her aura, I see the gray is nearly gone.
She’s feeling, truly feeling. I can’t interfere.
I have to do what I’ve wanted to do all along and let her see the consequences of her choices.
She needs to really absorb them so she can decide how to move forward from here.
“It’s as if he’s reading a LinkedIn bio,” she says quietly. “Is that really all I was?”
I don’t answer because I know the question wasn’t for me.
The director continues. “She was preceded in death by her parents and leaves behind no immediate family.”
“No one?”
This time, the question is directed at me. “You chose work and building wealth over relationships. The life you saw before this was the life you lived.”
“But I really had no one?”
Cold sadness pulses through Greer’s aura, sending a tremor up my spine, and I move to stand next to her, clenching my hands at my side. My chin angles to Avery, who’s looking toward the funeral director.
“I thought you said she moved on from my life.”
“She did, but she’s here, anyway. She organized the funeral since there was no one else to do it.”
Greer’s bottom lip quivers as she looks at her oldest friend, the person who has always been there for her even when she didn’t see it.
“There was no prepared statement or family contribution,” the director says. “So if you’d like to say a few words…?”
Avery shifts in her chair, her hands wringing in her lap.
For a moment, it looks as if she’ll say no, but then she stands.
She walks between Greer and I, taking the few steps up to the stage slowly with the help of the director.
Instead of going to the podium, she stands in front of the ornate silver urn.
She places her aged hand near the base of it and sucks in a ragged breath.
“I’m at a loss for words, but I’ll do my best.” She clears her throat.
“Greer was once my best friend. She was kind, beautiful, and funny. We’d laugh for hours and rewatch the same animated shows over and over again until our moms would yell at us to go outside and play.
I thought we’d grow old together, be those friends you see at coffee shops and at water aerobics classes after our husbands were gone, maybe raise kids together and be neighbors so they could grow up to be friends like we were. Then something changed. She changed.”
Her voice cracks, and she pauses. “Greer and I haven’t spoken in a long time, but I’d like to think she thought about me as much as I thought about her.
I wish things were different, that this wasn’t how it ended for her.
She died alone in that big house of hers, and it’s not right.
I just hope that wherever she is now she has found peace, that she isn’t alone.
Maybe her old dog, Cooper, is there with her. ”
A choked noise has me turning to Greer, and before I can stop her, she’s up next to Avery. “I’m right here, Avery. I’m not dead.”
I exhale and step next to Greer. “You know she can’t see you.”
Her face hardens, and she turns to me, a flash of anger moving through her. “Is this really what happens to me?”
“It could be, Greer.”
She looks back at Avery, and a tear tracks down her cheek. “I didn’t think…”
I move closer so she meets my gaze. “You didn’t think…?”
“I didn’t think this is where I’d end up.” She steps around me and looks at all the empty chairs. She’s a mirror of the Greer we saw standing in front of the fireplace, gaze vacant and smile withdrawn. It makes my heart ache.
“And where did you think you’d end up?”
Her chin drops before she meets my gaze. “I was fine with being alone—or at least, I thought I was. That Christmas, when I fought with my parents and my boyfriend broke up with me, when I was rude to Avery…I didn’t expect it would lead here.”
“Where did you think it would lead?”
Her chin drops to her chest, and she rubs a hand over her eyes, wiping away the tears. “I thought I could make myself happy, that success would fill the void of connections in my life. And maybe it’s stupid, but—”
Her voice falters, yet she forces the next words out.
“But despite it all, I think I always hoped that if I was good enough for my parents, if I could show Avery my sacrifices were worth it, that maybe—” Her voice breaks, another pulse of deep, bone-aching sadness flaring through her aura.
“…they would still find a way to love you?” I finish for her.
She nods and swipes away another tear as Avery and the funeral director leave the room. Greer and I are left standing together onstage in front of the urn.
I take her hands and look directly into her eyes. “I know you may not want to see it, but people do love you, Greer. They always have.”
“But how? You’ve seen what I’ve said, the things I’ve done in the name of…what? Money? Success? How could they still love someone like me? How could they want to love someone like me? I deserve to die alone!”
The room around us dissolves, and we’re back at the inn, this time, in Greer’s room. The early light of Christmas Day streams through the windows, and the tree in the corner is lit in all its multicolored glory.
It’s not something we’ve done for anyone else, but Kai and Remi are there waiting for us. Her eyes meet theirs, and her gaze softens for a brief second when she sees them, comforted that they’re here.
Remi steps toward us, eyes on Greer. “I beg to differ, love. You’ve seen that they do.”
“But—”
“Think of the moments we’ve shown you, how, despite what you’ve done, they’ve given you grace.”
“Maybe so, but I didn’t deserve it.”
“Regardless of if that’s true or not, they did.”
“Even in the end,” Kai says, moving to stand next to Remi, “Avery was there.”
“But I don’t understand why.”
“Because what you hoped for deep down is true. Avery, your parents…they do love you,” he adds. “Think about it, Princess. Really think about what we’ve shown you and why.”
Greer squeezes her eyes shut, the room silent with only the sound of our breath. Her eyes track back and forth beneath her lids as if she’s replaying every moment we’ve shown her in order. Little by little, her shoulders ease, and her aura flares brightly around her with more gold.
I glance at Kai briefly, nodding to let him know he said the right thing. Greer’s emotions are fully breaking free—she’s allowing herself to feel everything, to see how she is loved.