Chapter 5 #3
Tristan and Danny retake their seats, and before I know it, the coffin is rolling back through a curtained area and it’s done. I choke down everything I’m feeling and rise along with the others, filing out of the small room in numb silence.
As soon as we get outside, Sam pulls me aside while the others head over to look at the flower arrangements. His eyes are filled with concern, so I can only imagine how bad I look.
“Are you okay, Prickles?”
“It’s just…” I break off and swallow, feeling how dry my mouth is.
“That’s not what magic should be used for.
It’s an abomination, beyond cruel, to bind a soul like that.
” I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to dispel the image of her that’s now seared into my mind. “She has to be in so much pain.”
“Prickles,” Sam whispers. I look up at him. “We’ll find a way to help her. I know we will.”
I nod, not trusting any more words coming out of my mouth. I want to tell him the truth.
“I just want to go home. Besides, I got a good look at the symbols. It would help if I had a physical record of them, but I think I remember enough to identify them in one of my books.”
“Harrison,” he says, and I know he’s serious because he’s using my name, not the teasing nickname that I secretly enjoy. “That can wait. Why don’t you come with us? I think everyone is going back to Tris and Danny’s for a kind of wake.”
I shake my head. “I can’t,” I mutter. “I don’t feel very well. I don’t think being around that kind of magic is very good for me.” Which isn’t the whole truth but is certainly not untrue.
His expression flips from concerned to alarmed. “I’m fine.” I reach out without thinking and grasp his forearm. “I promise. I just wasn’t prepared. Not a mistake I’ll make twice.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.” I give his arm a little squeeze and then let go. “You go with the others. They need you.”
“But I’d rather be with you,” he says simply, and I’m not sure what to do with that because deep down, it’s what I want too.
“There’ll be time for us,” I say honestly.
Just as soon as I get up the courage to tell you the truth about me.
“But I need some time on my own to think over everything.”
“At least let me drive you home.”
My mouth curves. “I told you I don’t need a babysitter. I’m not going to get murdered by an evil wizard in broad daylight on the Bakerloo line.”
“Prickles,” he says lightly, even though I know he feels anything but. “Did you just make a joke?”
“It’s been known to happen on occasion.” Then I sober. “I’ll be fine, Sam.” He hesitates, his brows drawing down. “Would it make you feel better if I text you when I get home?” I offer.
“Yes.”
I chuckle, then glance around. Tris and the others are quite far away, looking at the memorial flowers, and no one is paying attention, so I impulsively lean in and drop a soft kiss on Sam’s lips. When I draw back, he’s surprised but can’t hide his pleasure over me taking the first step this time.
“Go spend some time with the others,” I urge him. “I’m sure Tristan is a little shaken up after what happened.”
He nods and steps back. “You promise you’ll message so I know you’re okay?”
“I promise,” I reply softly.
“Because if you don’t,” he says, walking backwards in the direction of Danny and the others, “I’m coming to stalk you.”
“You’re going to do that anyway,” I reply, and he grins. Sending me one last wink, he turns and heads to the little group huddled in the distance.
“This is such a bad idea.” I sigh and set off down the winding path towards the main entrance of the grounds.
When I reach the main road, I’m about to turn left towards the Tube station but instead stop dead in the middle of the path. There, a short distance in front of me, is the fox I saw last year in front of Vivienne’s shop during the eclipse.
Its distinctive black and burnished red colouring is unmistakable as it sits there calmly, like it’s been waiting for me.
We stare at each other for several long seconds, then it stands up and trots off down the road, but after a few steps, it pauses and looks back over its shoulder at me, and I know it wants me to follow it. Strangely, I don’t feel afraid, just curious.
Before I can second-guess myself, my feet are moving.
We head down winding back alleys and across roads until we finally round a corner and are in front of a large, slightly weathered iron archway.
The fox saunters straight through, so I follow.
Once I enter the grounds, I see an old, run-down chapel.
The fox has led me to a sprawling graveyard. An old one.
We wind between aged headstones and overgrown grass, and I catch a glimpse of some of the dates on the graves, none of which are later than the early to mid-1900s. Eventually, the fox stops and sits, elegantly wrapping its long, bushy tail around its legs while it waits for me to catch up.
When I finally approach, it dips its head, then stands up, walks directly into a headstone, and disappears through it.
What the hell?
I look around, but no, it’s nowhere to be seen. It had seemed so solid, so real.
I dip my gaze to the gravestone I’ve been led to, and my breath catches in my throat as I read the inscription.
Here lies Cordelia Crawshanks…