“As you wish, Xavier,” I said firmly, squaring my shoulders as I marched toward the doors that Ezekiel and Enzo prepared to open into the backyard, where the ceremony was beginning.
“No theatrics, Kid. Keep to the plan, and just do as you’d intended to do before you knew I wasn’t dead. I went through the plans you made, and if I had died, I’d have been proud of you. No hunter could want more from his child,” he admitted, causing my stomach to churn and bile to burn the back of my throat.
You Should Be Here, by Cole Swindell, played outside the door, and I blinked away the prickling of tears. Straightening my shoulders once more, and shaking off his hand, I spun, smiling coldly.
“I’m glad you approve,” I lied. The smile on my father’s lips thinned as the doors was opened.
Exiting the house, I walked tall. I didn’t balk at the glances or the pitying stares that turned my way. I ignored them, heading to the makeshift podium. The heavy weight of those watching me was smothering, and the grief and sadness within the yard only made it more so.
Standing on the small wooden stage, I stared at the crowd, focusing my attention on the front row, where my father sat, wearing Micah’s face. Looking away, I waited for the song to end before I swallowed and exhaled to calm myself.
“Today marks the end of an era. My—Xavier Anderson was one of a kind,” I stated, fumbling over the title that littered the paper I was reading. “They say you don’t get the parents you want. You get the ones you need. Xavier was that to all of us. Each and every one of us that was abandoned and left to rot because of our differences. He created something here. It’s bigger than we could have ever prayed to find.” I glanced at the words, watching them blur with the denial and anger that shot through me. Wadding up what I’d written before finding out he wasn’t dead, I tossed the paper from the stage, listening to the murmurs running through the crowd as my father rose, fully intending to intervene. “I’m not going to stand up here and read some pre-written shit that came from the heart. That isn’t us. We accept death as part of this job. We know one day it will come for us. Those blessed with immortality can succumb to it, and sooner or later, you die. It’s part of living. We live by the sword, and we understand we will eventually die by it, too.” I slipped my gaze to the next page, nodding as I found the hunter’s poem.
“Every life is a light, and when it’s extinguished, this world becomes a little darker. Xavier was a bright light that shone in even the darkest of places. It was as if the sun came into the room on his shoulders, kissing the flesh of those around him. You could always say the sun was close to him, but as hunters, we don’t know that element well.”
Xavier’s eyes flashed in silent warning, and I slowly blew the air out of my lungs. The crowd echoed their agreement, and I waited for them to calm down once more. I scanned their faces, noting each one that wasn’t paying attention to the eulogy.
“When the road ends, and my hunt is finished, do not grieve for me. Let me go. When the sun sets and the moon rises, think of me, but do not mourn as I am finally free. This earthly body and useless flesh wasn’t enough to house the soul set free. I neither need nor want any funeral rites in a gloomy field. Why would you be sad or grieve for a soul that has been released? You may miss me and cherish the time you had with me, but do not drink for me with your head bowed. Lift it instead for the memories we made. Hunters know that our time is short, and that life is fleeting. We understand death is a journey we must walk alone, a final hunt that no one else can take with us. When you remember me, go to a friend, and find solace in the living, for the dead do not weep. Laugh at the things we did together, but do so with pride.” I tampered down the emotion, sliding my eyes back to my dad. “For I am gone, and this isn’t me. I am not this weakness that you feel, nor this desolate despair that clouds the air. I am a hunter, and I am strong. I know that life doesn’t end here, because I will always go on through you and the others that will come after me. I am infinite. I am the song you will play and hear while you recall a moment shared. I am the air that floods your lungs when you run after prey and make this world a better place. I am not shrouded upon the pyre, for this flesh does not house me any longer. Salt my bones, and burn it to ash, for fire brings new beginnings and cleanses the world of lost souls.”
I stepped back, staring off into the sea of vehicles spread out in the field beyond the gates of the estate. James Blunt’s Monsters started through the speakers, and I shifted, moving toward one of the fires, grabbing a handful of salt and a smudge stick of sage. Talia’s eyes caught mine, and I nodded, standing ready to burn the body of my father’s twin brother the moment she’d finished blessing it to return to the earth.
Silently, I watched her and the witches placing flowers and herbs over his corpse. Ironically, it was a full blessing for the monster that had hurt others. It had to be perfect, though, because most of the creatures present tonight would know if one thing was done incorrectly. Xavier had even changed the setting, removing the covering from the head to ensure they saw his face and thought him dead.
Once the witches finished their part of the ceremony, I stepped forward, holding the salt in my hand. Xaven looked exactly the same as Xavier. There wasn’t a single thing I could find that would signal to anyone else that he wasn’t the man that had raised me. A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned, peering at Micah—my dad, before I jerked my arm away and tossed the salt onto his brother.
“And with this salt, I return your spirit from whence it came. May you find peace and solace in death, Xavier,” I whispered, lighting the smudge stick from the flame beside the body, tossing it on the deceased. I moved as the flames rose, rendering Xaven to ashes and embers that lifted into the darkening sky, catching the wind.
It would be really ironic if we ended up causing a forest fire from a mock funeral. Turning from the dead, I walked to the spot where we had planned for me to accept condolences, but instead of remaining there, I walked to the podium.
“Drink, and find peace tonight. Tomorrow we return to hunting,” I stated firmly. “Noah will lead us into the next prayer, but I find that I need a moment for myself. I will change my clothes, and then we’ll all drink to the memories of Xavier Anderson, the founding father of this establishment.”
My dad narrowed his eyes on me, but the crowd seemed appeased by my need for some time alone. Plus, I wanted out of the outfit. I entered the house the way we’d come, feeling eyes on my spine while I made my way up the staircase and to the baby’s room.
No sooner had I slipped out of the dress, than a knock sounded on my door. I opened it a sliver, peeking through the crack to find my father staring through it, lowering his gaze to my exposed side.
“Did you need something? Maybe send in my babysitter if you don’t trust me to get changed and return to the party, Xavier,” I offered, watching his eyes close before he nodded.
“Make it fast, Kid. Noah is floundering out there,” he muttered.
“It isn’t my job to save his ass. It was to become a sacrificial lamb to protect his life. Nothing else,” I snorted, waiting for him to reply with something. Anything would have been better than the pain-filled stare that locked with mine before he stepped back, allowing me to close the door.