Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris is the sole owner of the Southern Vampire Mysteries universe. I'm just taking her beloved characters out to play dress up.
Dead in the Morning
It was time to go. I took one last glance in the mirror to confirm that my long-sleeved black wrap-around dress covered the nastiest scabs of my still-healing wounds, before cautiously joining Amelia on the front porch. Alcide had promised to send a car to take us to Tray's funereal. He knew that neither Amelia nor I was in any state to drive. When the sleek town car pulled to a stop in front of the house, neither one of us made any move towards it. Confused, the driver got out and opened the back passenger door and gestured for us to get in. Amelia shuddered. Afraid to intrude on my friend's grief --- and more honestly, afraid to learn how much blame Amelia placed on me --- I gently took the mourning witch's hand in mine and led her to the car. It was taking all of my concentration to maintain my shields to protect the privacy of Amelia's thoughts. Of all the things that I owed Amelia, privacy was the least of them.
It was quiet in the car. Amelia seemed to sit as far away from me as possible. Her stillness was interrupted every few minutes when she brought a shaking hand up to wipe away an errant tear. She stared out the window. Lost.
I struggled to keep my nature in check, to keep my shields in place. I didn't want to know what Amelia thought of me. Despite the grimness of our errand, the sun shone brightly in the Louisiana morning. It was 10:30 and Tray's service began at 11. As the car made its way to the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, I stared out the window at the passing streets of my beloved hometown.
For as long as I could remember, I loved Bon Temps. I loved its haphazard blend of historic architecture and homes that were cobbled together over the last century, expanded with the purpose of making room for a growing family, much like my familiar homestead. The trees on the route to the Church seemed to bow with the gravity of the day, burdened with the morning's dew still lingering on their leaves, heavy and still. The air was so humid that I was glad my hair was carefully pinned into a chignon. For some reason, it was important that my hair was under control.
I've been struggling with trying to resolve the after-effects of the Fairy War, including how to think of it at all. To me, it was more than a war. It was the day I lost my family, or what was left of my family. Claudine, dead, along with the child in her womb. Niall was dead to me, closed off in the Fae world. I still hadn't heard from Claude, but I couldn't imagine him choosing to stay, when nothing was left here that he truly loved. I didn't just lose my fairy family that night. The earthly family I'd chosen had suffered great losses. Tray. Even Clancy gave his life trying to save mine, despite his clear disdain for the task. And Bill. Driving away from the hospital that night Bill was as close to finally dead as I could have ever imagined. The spark of magic in him that kept him "alive" was nearly out. Yet he'd gladly risked his immortality to rescue me. And Eric. Well. Eric hadn't…But he had. But he didn't come. But he did. Well, Eric. I guess. Rather than continue thinking about Eric, I once again looked out the window to stare at the passing sights.
As we drew closer to the Church, Amelia turned to me, paused, and looked away. Unable to quell my curiosity, I lowered my shields and listened in.