The car pulled up outside the graveyard and parked quietly. Valkyrie didn't want to get out. She didn't want to see the hearse carrying the coffin with her dead cousin inside. She couldn't help but think that it might be her mum, or her dad, or Alice, never to move again in that cold wooden box. She couldn't help but feel guilt wash over her as she thought of how she was the reason Carol would never see another sunrise or never smile that contented smile of hers.
Her door was opened for her, and she looked up at her dad, who was smiling at her grimly. She averted her eyes to the floor. She didn't think she could look at her dad's face, not when he thought she was his innocent little girl when she was in the fact the reason for the whole ceremony taking place that day. She couldn't bear it.
She stepped out on the gravel ground and the car door was closed behind her. Her mother was carrying Alice in her arms. Valkyrie could already hear the sobbing coming from the entrance to the church. They followed the sound, Valkyrie trying to walk behind her parents, trying not to look as guilty as she felt inside. There were very few people at the church. Beryl, Fergus, Crystal, about 3 of Carol's friends, Valkyrie's parents, Alice and Valkyrie herself. And there, in the distance, parked a few streets away, barely visible through the gaps between the houses, the sleek black Bentley. Valkyrie felt like she could let out a deep breath she had been holding in for her entire life. But then she heard the wailing and the crying of Beryl as the coffin was brought from the hearse, and the lump came shooting back to her throat, sickness churning in her stomach. She wanted to cry, but her eyes remained dry, the tears clogging in her throat instead, adding to the ever-growing lump.
Crystal, with her skeleton like figure and gaunt face, had tears streaming down her face, but seemed unable to sob. Fergus's eyes were wet, his sobs silent. Carol's friends seemed to be trying and failing to hold it in. Alice, being so young, didn't seem to acknowledge the sadness around her, or was trying to ignore it.
The coffin was lifted by the funeral workers into the church, and everyone filed in behind it. They sat in the front pews, barely filling up the first two rows. It didn't seem fair. Carol didn't deserve to be dead. She didn't deserve to have so few people at her funeral. And she didn't deserve the lack of tears.
It was when the service was being held that Valkyrie heard her mother's quiet sobs, noticed her father's wet eyes, and saw how quiet Alice had become, snuggling into her mother's chest. But Valkyrie couldn't cry. She bet to herself that she looked stone cold, in her black buttoned shirt and black trousers, eyes drier than the Sahara desert. She couldn't look anyone in the eye, averted her gaze away form the coffin. There was overwhelming sadness, but Skulduggery had been right. She'd cried herself out when she first 'saw' the reflection kill her. It was harsh, horrible, but true.
The words hung in the air like storm clouds as the small congregation moved outside to the graveyard, and Carol's coffin was lowered into the grave. They threw a handful of dirt in each before it was properly buried in the earth. Valkyrie could now read the inscription on the gravestone. Carol Edgely, aged 21. Daughter, Sister, Cousin, Friend, taken before her time. She will be forever missed. The lettering resonated in Valkyrie's mind as the ceremony was declared finished. Her dad put his arm around her shoulder.
"You alright kiddo?" He asked. Valkyrie nodded quietly before her mother began to move, and after a few consoling words with Beryl, they went back to the car.
The drive home was cringingly silent, and as soon as she stepped foot in the house, Valkyrie went upstairs to her room. Darquesse spoke as soon as the door was closed.
"Well that was sad." She said.
"Why would you think it sad?" Valkyrie asked quietly, sitting on her bed "You like death."
"That I do, but I'm not as fond of funerals. The mood is so depressing."
"That's because someone we care about is dead." Valkyrie said bitterly.
"If you let me out it would never happen again."
"No, because everyone would be too busy dieing to have funerals."
"Exactly!"
"No, Darquesse. I'm not letting you out. And now's one of the worst times to talk about it, even thought the answer will always be no."
"I think now is the right time to talk about it. You see, your mind is very unstable at the moment, so you might agree to something you've said 'no' to several times."
"Well I won't."
"Shame. I'm getting awfully bored in here." She sighed.
"Deal with it." Valkyrie muttered, changing out of her funeral wear into normal clothes. She could go and see Gordon. He would understand her feelings, and she could be perfectly honest with him. He wouldn't tell anybody. Skulduggery was busy – even if he had taken time out to be near the funeral in case Valkyrie needed him – and she didn't want to hear that he was right about her not crying, or that everything was going to be ok. Echo-Gordon would give it to her straight and tell her to man-up, because things weren't ok. And that was life. Purely unfair life. Valkyrie would ask him what death was like, but he wasn't the 'real' Gordon. He wouldn't know. And she didn't particularly want to find out for herself. Skulduggery knew death first hand, but it wasn't exactly the topic you'd bring up in a normal conversation. Excuse me, just wondering what death was like after you were murdered at the hands of a psychopath before your head was chopped off and put on a pike for all to see? Yeah, that would go down well. Totally normal conversation. Didn't get much more normal than that.
Melissa Edgely watched as her daughter went upstairs quickly and quietly. Something about her seemed different. She wasn't as happy as she had been the past few months. Quieter. Less confident. Then again, they had just been to a funeral. But she wasn't like that after Gordon's funeral. Yes she was sad, but not the same kind of quiet retreating sad she was now. And Gordon and Stephanie were as thick as thieves. Stephanie and Carol weren't nearly that close, were they?
She put Alice down on the floor, and the toddler stumbled away hurriedly. Her husband hung up his coat and sat at the table, brushing away the wet patches under his eyes.
"Desmond."
"Mmm."
"They haven't caught the driver that hit Carol yet, have they?"
"Not as far as I'm aware."
"What if he's still out there? You don't think, he could hurt Stephanie, do you?" She sat down opposite Desmond and put her elbows on the table.
"Stephanie's street wise, she can handle herself." Desmond said.
"But Carol was street wise too. She was 21 for God's sakes. Stephanie's 17."
"Then we'll tell her to be extra careful when crossing the streets and to not walk too close to the road."
"Desmond, I think this is serious." Melissa said "Until he's caught, I don't think we should leave the house unless we have to."
"Then we won't." Desmond shrugged "We're both off work. We have enough food to last the week. All the Christmas shopping is done. We have no reason to go out."
"There's something else too." Melissa said as Alice toddled up to her. She picked her up and put her on her knee. "I don't think Stephanie's very well. Doesn't she seem a bit… quiet, to you?"
"Maybe a bit, but she's just been accepted into an exchange programme, she's going to be leaving us for months, and she's just been to her cousin's funeral. It's perfectly normal."
"I know, but… something just doesn't seem right. She seems… distracted."
"She's 17. She's probably thinking about boys or clothes or phones or whatever it is teenage girls think about nowadays."
"I guess so." Melissa murmured. "I just can't shake this feeling that something's not right."
"You're just over reacting." Desmond sighed. "Why don't we call Stephanie down and watch a movie or something. It's been a while since we spent some quality time as a family."
