Chapter One:
The first thing he saw was the roses as he walked up to the ceremony. He stiffened at the sight of it, not because he didn't like the roses, but because they reminded him overwhelmingly of Sibella.
Tears pricked at his eyes as he took in the beautiful array of colors of the roses. They were varying shades of crimson, pink, and white, and Monty couldn't have picked out the colors any better.
He bit his lip as he glanced at the flowers surrounding the coffin, feeling himself become terribly upset and devastated again just like he had been when he had first heard the news.
"It was such a shock," he heard someone around himself and Phoebe remark. "She just died so suddenly."
Monty felt a lump in his throat begin to form. He couldn't stand it, the thought of Sibella being dead. The thought of his Sibella forever lying in a coffin, cold and pale. It was too much, too painful.
Phoebe took his hand gently, and without a word led him to a pew where they both sat down silently. The brunette kept her gloved hand clasped over his tightly, letting him know that she was there for him.
Monty's eyes drifted around the church, seeing all of these high society people flitter in and out of his gaze. He barely recognized any of them… He wondered if any of them really cared about Sibella, or if they were just here for the publicity and for the gossip, and to spread vicious rumors about the blonde now that she was dead. They looked like crows, dressed in all black, scourging the dead for any last bit of meat they could take from them.
He hated the lot of them at that moment.
Phoebe noticed that he was silent and brooding with anger, and she kissed his cheek gently, her brown eyes looking at him sympathetically, her entire being radiating pity and sadness.
She knew, and she alone knew, how much of a toll this was taking on him, how devastated he was at Sibella's passing.
He loved Phoebe for her devotion, for her compassion. She didn't have a mean or hurtful bone in her body and he loved her even more for that. She was always able to put her own feelings aside in order to comfort others.
Monty knew deep down she was hurting just as much as Monty was. She had loved Sibella too.
They both had loved her.
This was a shock to both of them. When the news had arrived Thursday by way of the morning post, Monty had been stunned into silence and a feeling of numbness. When he had called the Holland residence to confirm what he thought had been a horrible joke, he was informed by Lionel himself that Sibella had died suddenly of a mysterious illness. Monty hung up on him abruptly after that, and neither him nor Phoebe left the house that day.
Now, here at the funeral, it was all becoming real for Monty and for Phoebe. Phoebe, bless her heart, was being strong for him and he could never thank her enough for that.
"Well, isn't it the Earl of Highhurst," the remark from Lionel was enough to pull Monty out of his thoughts.
He blinked and looked up at the man. He stood, though he felt like he was moving robotically.
"Mr. Holland," he said stiffly, looking at Lionel with contempt. "My condolences."
Lionel nodded, "Thank you." He paused. "Would you care to take a walk with me for a moment, Mr. Navarro?" He asked him.
Monty swallowed, feeling as though he couldn't refuse.
He nodded and stood, leaving Phoebe in the pew. She caught his eye as he started walking and she bit her lip, wondering what would transpire between the two men, though she had a clear idea anyways.
Both Lionel and Monty were quiet as they walked around the church until Lionel finally began to speak.
"My wife was very fond of you," he said softly, "Some may say she was too fond of you… some would have thought that you were her husband rather than me the way she talked about you."
Monty took a sharp intake of breath, he knew Lionel was baiting him and he couldn't resist taking it and running with it.
"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the impression she gave, seeing as you weren't the greatest husband to her either way."
Lionel's face fell and it turned angry and harsh.
"At least I was her husband," he shot back in a low, cold voice.
Monty felt, in that moment, that he could snap Lionel's neck and he would be doing the world a favor by doing so.
"She never loved you," Monty spat at him, his voice rising just a bit so that people were starting to pay attention to them.
"And yet she was my wife, not yours," countered Lionel.
There was a pause.
"You should have died instead of her," Monty uttered darkly, a murderous glare in his eyes.
Lionel opened his mouth to say more when Phoebe suddenly came up to them and laced her arm through Monty's delicately.
She put on her sweetest smile for Lionel, and leaned her head on Monty's shoulder gently.
"Monty, I believe the Earl of Grantham wants to see you," she told him, an obvious lie, but he nodded nonetheless and followed her away from Lionel.
They walked away from Mr. Holland and suddenly found themselves near the front of the church where the casket was. Monty felt Phoebe's grip tighten on his arm, and he heard her sigh in sadness.
"I miss her," she said quietly, glancing at him.
He looked at her and kissed her lips. "So do I."
His eyes then glanced at the casket and he froze.
Sibella looked so beautiful, too beautiful to be dead. For a second, he feared that Lionel was going to bury her alive, she looked so fresh, so radiant. He stared at her… at her perfectly curled hair that lay around her head and across her shoulders, at her soft red lips, at her pale smooth skin.
"She looks so pretty," remarked Phoebe softly looking at her.
He nodded solemnly. "She looks beautiful," he said as his eyes grazed over Sibella's body, taking in her cold, still form. He was glad that she was dressed in a pink gown. She would have liked that. He smiled at the thought of her being glad that it was a pink gown instead of some other color.
Monty bent down and kissed her cold lips gently, "I've always loved you, and I always will love you," he whispered.
Phoebe squeezed his hand afterwards, "We should move to let others come and pay their respects," she told him.
He nodded, leaving a lingering glance at Sibella before turning away to move.
Just as they were about to move, an older man moved up to the casket when he suddenly gasped and hissed.
Monty, hearing the strange sound escape from the man's lips, turned and saw that the old man was crossing himself and muttering something under his breath. Phoebe turned as well and frowned.
"Sign of the devil that is," muttered the old man in some foreign accent Monty could not place, looking at Sibella, "Sign of the devil…"
Monty peered at the old man, and asked him. "Excuse me sir, is something the matter?"
The old man turned and looked at him.
"Don't you see that?" he said pointing to Sibella, more specifically her throat. "It's the sign the devil's been to her."
Monty scrunched up his face trying to figure out what in the world the old man was talking about when he saw it.
On her throat were two puncture marks, almost like teeth marks. Monty couldn't believe he didn't see them before. They were small, almost fading but they were still there.
"I-I don't understand," said Monty looking up at the old man.
The old man began to laugh, his stomach shaking but his face was serious.
"'Course you don't understand, you fools know nothing," he said harshly, his voice losing its humorous quality.
He looked at Monty and Phoebe seriously and sternly before he looked at Sibella's throat once more, and pointed to the marks on her neck.
"That… that is the mark of the Undead," he told Monty.