Evelyn led them to a tall, iron-wrought gate that blocked the way to rows of above ground tombs and statues, with mausoleums scattered throughout. Paths were lined with stone and gravel with tall, dark trees that draped their branches over the dead resting here like a blanket. A couple of people roamed the aisles, bouquets of white lilies and roses in their arms. A few others stood in front of tombs, lighting candles to pay their respects to the spirits that graced the cemetery. With the veil so thin, many hoped for just a glimpse of their loved ones.
Evelyn hesitated at the gate before reluctantly pushing it open. The attendants throughout the grounds froze in place. They glared as Marcus stepped through the gate. A burning like silver dragged like nails across his bones. He hissed and stepped back out the gate.
“Knock it off!” Evelyn hollered. The pain faded away and Marcus walked back through the gate. The sensation returned, but came over him like an itch rather than a burn. He glanced over at Evelyn who shrugged with the barest glimmer of amusement in her now milky eyes. Glancing over her more, Marcus saw the scars and stitches, marks and bruises on her grey-tinged skin take on a more visceral form. They no longer looked like fancy makeup or clever uses of practical effects – they were, without a doubt, real.
“No glamours or disguises here, Marcus. Nobody gets to hide in the Cemetery.”
Marcus sighed, but nodded. Glamours weren’t his thing anyway, but working any form of Pack magic was up in the air now.
She guided him to a large mausoleum at the end of one of the gravel pathways. A tall tree stood to one side, Spanish moss dripping from its branches. Lit lanterns book-ended the heavy iron doors. One person leaned against the wall. His silver hair was scruffy and had a scraggly beard to go with it. He stared pensively at the ground, futzing with a strand of wayward moss. He glanced up and his stare turned furious. Ice cold eyes met Evelyn’s and then it pierced Marcus.
“Why did you bring him here, Evelyn?” he demanded.
“Aaron, please-” Evelyn squirmed under the man’s oppressive glare.
His gaze fell on the woman in Marcus’s arms. All attempts to intimidate fell away. “What happened, Marcus?”
A growl rumbled up from the wolfman. “A Callaghan died,” Marcus said.
Aaron’s eyes widened. “Who? Agnes? She shouldn’t have died yet; she was still young.”
“No one told the Reaper.” Marcus adjusted Judith in his arms but winced as she cried out in pain. “Judy found her. She’s been like this ever since, Aaron.”
Aaron grimaced and nodded. He took Judith from him. Or tried to. Marcus reached around his neck and tried to pull her arms from around his neck, but her grip tightened. He sighed.
“Judy,” Marcus said, resting a hand on her cheek, “Judy, you gotta let me go. We’re with your brother. He’s gonna help you.” He felt her grip slacken and he gently placed her hands in her lap. He turned to Aaron. “How are you gonna help her?”
Judith’s brother shrugged. “The only thing I can do is coerce her to follow it through.”
“’Follow through’?” Evelyn asked, narrowing her eyes. “What does that mean?”
Aaron turned toward the old mausoleum. “What it always does for us.” He paused and sighed. “I’m not gonna lie, this one is gonna hurt more than the other ones did.” He turned back and met Marcus and Evelyn’s eyes in turn. “Agnes was the last of the Callaghan lineage. After this, I’m not sure what will happen with my sister. I’ve never lost all the members of my family. I’ve come close, but…” He shook his head. “This is uncharted territory for me.”
“Can we go in with you?” Evelyn asked, she rested a hand on Judith’s arm.
“No. This isn’t the time for an abomination such as yourself, no offense,” He looked at Marcus. “or someone among the living, hardy though you may be.”
Aaron withdrew inside the mausoleum. Evelyn fell onto the bench, chewing her lips and her eyes frantically darting back and forth. She wrapped her arms around herself and her knee started to bounce. Marcus fumed – his eyes seemed to be glowing in the dim light cast by the lanterns. He paced back and forth, growling at passerby’s when one got too close. Both froze as a shrill wail sounded from the other side of the door.
Marcus froze mid-step as the keening reverberated around them – a cold hand squeezed his heart. The sound flooded out into the cemetery. Attendants froze and whipped their heads around to find the wailing banshee. The ones closest to the mausoleum fell to the ground, grasping their heads, while others stumbled in place with tears of blood poured down their cheeks.
The crackling of stone beside him forced Marcus’s eyes from the door to Evelyn. Her eyes were closed, one hand clenched on her chest and the other clawing at the marble bench. A stream of tears, the color of ichor, flowed from her eyes.
The keening faded, along with it the chill in the air and the pressure on their chests. The shaky breath Marcus took was echoed throughout the cemetery. Though the tears continued to fall.
The door creaked open. Aaron strode out, arms around his sister who hobbled beside him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, less from her species and more from the tears that were pouring down her face.
Evelyn and Marcus stood upon seeing her and she looked up, a sob breaking up in her chest. She darted forward, pulling them into a hug. “They’re all gone,” she whispered.
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